January 6, 2014.  Day 2 of my new life.

I live on a block I never would have dared to walk on when I first moved to NYC.  It’s in Alphabet City — and my apartment — and my building — and my neighbors — and my neighborhood — are all divine.  If I weren’t so social and didn’t have so many friends who I always want to see, I would never leave my apartment.  And sometimes, I don’t.  I’ve been known to hunker for two days at a time.  That doesn’t mean I am sitting alone in the dark (although I love that too), it just means I don’t actually leave my apartment — which by the way has a deck — so outside exposure is possible.  It also doesn’t mean that people don’t come to visit me.  Friends come.  Manicurists come.  Yoga teachers come.  Dry Cleaners come.  Fresh Direct comes. Wine delivery man comes. There’s a whole village of people who come to my apartment to be with me, the cats, and well, just be.  It’s pretty cool — and probably not your standard NYC apartment experience.  People just like to be here. I remember reading an article in the New Yorker by Nora Ephron YEARS ago (obviously). She described her life in the Ansonia on the Upper West. While it was quirky, I remember getting a sense she had truly created a home. I have too.

After my brain aneurysm, more people that I can count or remember came to my apartment. From different states, from different stages of my life, from every job, every school, the list went on and on.  Even the psychopath/sociopath who discarded me recently came on a regular basis — we did actually know each other for 12 years after all.  People drank wine, drank Prosecco, ordered in food, watched TV….it was a regular party except that for a bit of it I had metal staples in my head and could barely stay up longer than to drink my one or one hundred glasses of wine before I passed out in sheer recovery agony.

The best things about the apartment are:

1.  The cats.  Yes. I’m a cat lady. And if you haven’t met my two extraordinary cats: Stevie Wonder and Macy Gray, you shouldn’t be so quick to judge.  Just trust me.

2.  It’s comfortable.  That’s my main priority.  Making seating and watching TV as comfortable as possible.

3.  Did I say there is a deck?  Yes….  Many a friend and psychopath has spent hours on my deck watching the expansive Alphabet City sky on a summer Friday evening.

4. The elevator opens right into my apartment. Mostly cool but expensive and awkward every once in a while. Very convenient. And the wow factor for new guests is fun…..

5.  The art.  It’s mostly by my amazing grandmother, who passed away in 1980 — but not without making her indelible mark on canvas.

One new piece of art I have is something I painted jointly with a little Japanese man who didn’t speak a lick of English.  As part of my cool job (see previous post), I went to Japan this past October with the wife of Charles Schulz.  Because she is important in Japan, we were invited to a tea ceremony that no Americans ever get to go to.  At the tea ceremony, we sat on our knees (which was very painful after a while), watched the little man make tea, drank the awfully strong green mud he poured for us, and acted awkward. (I also craved wine.)

At the end of making tea, he pronounced in Japanese that we would now create art together.  So we did.  When it came to be my turn, he asked me what part of nature I like the best — and I told him that I love looking at mountains.  Then in like 5 minutes, he painted the most amazing scroll of me, Mt. Fuji, and a tree with his signature at the bottom.  He then asked me to contribute to the piece– so I painted a lame McDonald’s looking arch — which was my representation of Woodstock the bird.  (I was there in Japan because of Peanuts afterall.) Then he had me sign my name too — in Kanji.

When something shitty in your life happens, I truly believe you have to change up the energy to get over it.  After my brain exploded in my living room, I changed out my carpet — to make the apartment different and not be reminded of that awful night I got the worst headache of my life.  If I knew how or where to buy sage, I would so I could burn it. People keep saying to burn sage to get rid of the bad energy — but do I just buy it in the herb part of the grocery section?  Or is there a special anti juju sage you buy in a special store?  Seriously — someone please tell me.

The tea ceremony painting now hangs in my hallway where there used to be an antique map of Italy that the proposed sociopath/psychopath gave me.  It feels so much better now.  And totally right.

Thanks for reading.  Oh — A photo of a sketch of my building is below!  That’s me on the third floor — in bed of course.