If, By Screenplay Writer, You Mean CREEP (in a cab)

If you are my cab driver, and you hear me talking on the telephone, and I mention my website, it is because I am talking to a boy who is in the process of fixing it for me, NOT because I'm inviting you to Google it, visit it, and then send me an e-mail inviting me to go see the Miami Vice movie with you.

And, if one week passes, and I have not responded to you, you are not supposed to send me a second e-mail that says,"Hi jen what's up? It's richie the screenplay writer.jen e-mail me back when you get a chance. 1 sent you an e-mail last saturday. Thank you." (sic)

You are not a screenplay writer. And you are not my friend. And although I've never met an old dude who has such good Googling skills, I think you should leave me alone.

The third, fourth, and fifth e-mails -- even I'm not bitchy enough to reprint them here. Today.

Youwantcompany? No, thank you.

I got off of the subway. (The elevated train.)

And, at the bottom of the stairs, when I reached the street, there stood a small man.

And he said to me, “Youwantcompany? Youwantcompany? Youwantcompany? Youwantcompany? Youwantcompany? Youwantcompany? Youwantcompany? Youwantcompany?”

And he stood in my way.

And I, pissed that it was 3:00 a.m., and that it had begun to get cold, replied, “No. You want me to beat the shit out of you?”

He was a small man.

And he seemed shocked. And he stepped aside. And even though I had 8 blocks to go, I wasn’t worried that he’d follow me. I’m pretty positive that I don’t know how to “kick the shit out of” anyone. And every time I looked back he still stood there, at the bottom of the stairs. Blocking the way of any imaginary girls getting off of the train even later than me. And just thinking of that phrase made me laugh.

Sure, Not.

I'm not sure if this means that I'm back.
Or that I'm bored.

Miss You

1. One of the best songs ever.
2. The truth.
3. Love, this:





originally uploaded by jensnow

This One's For The Children

As long as there's nothing new here to read, let me direct you to something you should do instead -- SOME CHILDREN LIKE TO WRITE BOOKS, SOME CHILDREN LIKE TO EAT BOOKS: BUY TICKETS AND SUPPORT THEM BOTH.

Also, you should enter the contest.

And you should go see the show.*

(Umm, yes, I do realize that you can't win the contest because you are my friend, and since you are my friend you do not live in Seattle, but you should enter anyway. Please. And you should tell your westerly-dwelling friends to go to this, the penultimate stop on THE REVENGE OF THE BOOK EATERS tour.**)


*"People Talking and Singing," a benefit for 826Seattle, featuring Stephin Merritt, Daniel Handler, Sarah Vowell, Dave Eggers, John Hodgman, Smoosh, Colin Meloy, Ben Gibbard, and others who are good with words or music, or both.

** A tour put together to determine "words or music: which is better?" featuring Sufjan Stevens, David Byrne, Jon Stewart, Ben Gibbard, Fred Armisen, John Krasinski, Jenny Lewis, Stephin Merritt, Aimee Mann, Daniel Handler, Ira Glass, John Hodgman, Andy Richter, Dave Eggers, Sarah Vowell, ZZ Packer, John Roderick, the Mountain Goats, Davy Rothbart, Jonathan Richman, Mark Kozelek, Jonathan Coulton, Zach Rogue and some other people who are equally swoon-worthy not only for their style, but for their generosity in flying around the country to talk and sing and to raise money for 826 writing centers nationwide.

If By Blog, You Mean

Though I'd all but given up on riding around town in a yellow box, I'd recall my password each time I went to blog in a book. And by blog, I mean scrawl a note on the back of a receipt.

I think I'm back.

I'll backdate soon.

For now, you've only two more chances to catch The Revenge of The Book Eaters: Shows That Ask The Eternal Question -- Words or Music, Which Is Better? (A Series of Benefit Shows For 826 Writing Centers Nationwide)

Back in Business

If, unprovoked, your cab driver tries to sell you a script, then it must be a sign from Hashem that you should, in fact, become an agent.

Free Lunch? No Such Thing.

If a girl walks into Whole Foods, and immediately upon stepping through the door, and into a pool of water, falls backward, and hits her head on the floor, then the management will offer to put her into a cab. But they will not pay.

Yet.

One

There are cabs here.
Or, more correctly, there is a cab here.

One in 24 hours.
One is better than none.

No Time For Traffic

I've no time for traffic.

I'll see you after the move.

Strung Together

Tonight I shot:
- a reading
- a book party
- a celebutant and his secret boyfriend
- a hipsterish dance-off in a bar basement
- some cops beating up what looked like a very respectable young man and woman outside on my corner

Tonight made me less sad about moving away.

Things He Told Me When He Took Me To Brooklyn

"I don't like to pick up those people."

"It is only my second day."

"They told me that if I find a cell phone, I should throw it out."

"Maybe I should get a map. Or call my uncle."

"I turn on the 'off duty' sign. Sometimes you just want to drive by."

"I'm not a racist. I just don't like to pick up those people."

"Those people have knives; they'll hold them to your throat."

"Those people pay with hundred-dollar bills."

Pretty Girls Make Greatness

Today I visited two pretty stores owned by two pretty girls:

- Yanina Landsaat is the proprietress of Don The Verb, an adorably curated (and named) consignment shop on Delancey Street. She lined the walls with the metal shelves of the trimming store that previously occupied the space, and her stock of pocketbooks is one of the best I've ever seen. Lots of little framed bags, shoes in great shape, a mix of vintage and contemporary castoffs -- great finds, great labels, great prices. (Don the Verb: 61 Delancey Street, NY, NY 10002, 212.219.7633, www.dontheverb.com)

- Anne Saxelby might be my favorite cheesemonger. Might be because she recently opened Saxelby Cheesemongers in a stall in the Essex Street Market. Might be because she talked about how cute two of her farmers are. Might be becuase she's redefining "American cheese." Might be because her logo and her packaging are impeccably well-designed. Might be because her dairy is delicious. (Saxelby Cheesemongers, Essex Street Market, 120 Essex Street, NY, NY 10002, 212.228.8204, www.saxelbycheese.com)

Moving (me)

Some time ago the question was hypothetical.
Not now.

I'm leaving.

And I've no van to move my stuff.
So I'm doing it in cabs. And mom's car.

Which is sort of like a cab. Because I won't drive.
And she'll tell me how pretty I am (when I smile, fix my hair, wear a little lipstick, etc.) And I'll tip her and kiss her goodbye when we're done.

Loser

Despite my lack of peripheral vision, attention span, and coordination I admit: in lots of ways, bicycles do win.

Have taxis ever had so catchy a theme as the song from The Triplets of Belleville?
(All my rides would be accompanied by that song. Perhaps this is why I'm not to be trusted with a bicycle.)

This morning, apparently, bicycles did win.
So taxis are for losers.
Join my club.

Reading in Cabs With Girls (Again)*

"The–-the–-damn it, are you deaf too? Who said undertaker? I said taxi; can't you hear what I say?"

"You want me to call a taxi, sir?"

"No; I don't. I already told you so. I'm going to walk."

Edith Wharton, from "After Holbein"




*A sometimes series

Carry The One

Sometimes even the least logical of girls needs a mathematical equation that proves...fuck it.
Sometimes that illogical girl just wants a proof to make sense.

Service Station

Pretty smart: car services/cab companies are advertising on hand-stamps used by doormen at clubs.

Not that I go to clubs.
Not that I drive.
(Although I do have a drivers' license wherein my shirt is falling-off in the photo.)
But still.

8K47

Sounds like a gun.

Is honest.

Jolie Laide

When I was young, the story goes, a friend walked into a hair salon in North Jersey and asked for "the Jennifer Snow haircut."

This is nice, but I'm no Aniston, and my hair at age 6 didn't exactly spark a trend.

But I understand the impetus. Of asking.

Last night I walked into Sephora. I was looking for black eyeshadow. I have black eyeshadow. More than one kind. Slate. Midnight. Smoke. I have a whole host of non-colors with which I attempt to make shadows around my eyes. But I'm looking for a specific shadow. And until it came out of my mouth I didn't recognize that it is one that I probably will never achieve.

The smocked-lady asked what I wanted and I realized, "Can you make my eyes look like my French roommate's?"

So now I have an "Onyx"-colored kohl pencil that has a smudgey-sponge at the other end. And buying it, and calling it such, pretty much affirmed that I'll never have that shadow.

This is all sounding like I'm trying to be grossly poetic. It's not. It's simple. I just need to convince myself. I'm not from Paris. My smudging looks less like a smoky shadow than it looks like a mess. A mess I made by drawing on my eyes with a big black crayon. I think that if I start to cry and then rub my eyes it will look better.

This seems like a perfectly viable option.

Pretty Pants?

Yesterday I passed a girl on Essex Street -- such aplomb she showed by wearing not just leggings, but leggings with huge dots! (Cream-colored circles on black, more Marimekko than polka. Surprisingly flattering!)

Even so, I like that someone is attempting to right such important wrongs in public. The stickers ("NO MORE BLACK LEGGINGS WITH DENIM SKIRTS. PLEASE!) are polite, yet firm. And they're even more special when placed inches from the snoozy "9-11 was an inside job" and "The Bush Regime Engineered 9-11." (Near the bottom of the frame.)

Also there is a cab behind the pole.

There's Some Truth In Your Advertising

"You're pretty," he said.

So I ran.

Backseat Shooter: Well, That's The Law in New York City

One day later.
No joke.
How refreshingly colloquial!

Backseat Shooter: Tissue? I Don't Even Know You

So if someone gets into your cab – drunk, and surly – and they’re about to light a cigarette, they’re careful to mind your allergic condition?

Rather than sharing your medical history, you could have added: “IT'S ILLEGAL.”