I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, I took a mental health
day week week and a half. But things happened! The boyfriend and I went to New York. Yes, that mecca of art and culture and the place that all my hopes and dreams revolve around. It wasn’t too dreamy at first because I stupidly forgot my coat and almost changed my name to the freezing art historian. We went to the Met and MoMa (my first time at the latter), and of course I’ll get to writing about that.
I have this very specific fantasy of my future in New York. I’m an assistant curator in European Paintings at the Met. I’m working really hard to help organize a big exhibition and my boyfriend is off in some dangerous place. On the eve of the exhibition’s opening and the night of the boyfriend’s return, it’s winter and the weather is dismal and snowy. He finally gets into the city late and we go to Balthazar, both looking ragged and overworked. We get the roast chicken for two and some sort of gin drink and live happily ever after.
This was conceived the last time I was in the city, literally starving, with a very overactive imagination. However, I will make this happen someday, mark my words.