Sunday, November 8, 2009

About Last Night...

by Liz

Geez, you Manhattan kids lead such bourgeois lives.

Who had the better Saturday night? Hard to say. A typical Saturday night in Brooklyn includes cheap wine, meat substitutes and an impromptu dance-party-for-one (all enjoyed while I mix a new playlist for the café, a playlist which is invariably better suited to one-off dance parties than early-morning latte-sipping).

Oddly enough, Jyll, our respective Saturday nights ended in a similar fashion: we both fell asleep with the lights on, still in our clothes and mascara.

Moral of the story? No matter the borough, the night always ends the same.

* * * * *

Well, as expected, Jyll has set the bar rather high. Write what you know? I don’t know a single thing.

So, instead, I’ll write about Jyll.

(Jyll, we can use this for the back flap of our eventual book jacket. Or for our Wikipedia article. From what I’m told, any self-serving jerk can reserve a spot on Wiki these days. )

Jyll is brunette and model-esque; were her life to be depicted onscreen, she would no doubt be portrayed by Carla Brüni or Sophie Dahl (or, in a pinch, any actress other than Amber Tamblyn). She epitomizes what it means to be a woman in the modern era. She is at once maternal (as when she assures Liz that she is “skinnier than Janeane Garofalo”, an impressive fib) and fiercely independent, having traveled the U.S. and Europe as an au pair extraordinaire.

Jyll lives for gently sardonic banter. Forthright and authoritative, she is always plausible, even when paraphrasing Wikipedia articles and quoting Dr. Oz. Her voice messages, however, can be disarmingly bashful, as when she invites Liz to join her for a brownie after work (but only, she clarifies, if Liz wants to).

Jyll doesn’t need to know your language to fall in love with you; she believes that language is a needless prop, the invention of an un-emotive man. She values aesthetic principals and disdains the presumptuousness of those men who so much as wink at her.

An overly precocious young adult, Jyll is yet unsure of how to navigate the self-conscious pretense of New York’s East Village.


  1. My nights all end the same way too. Actually, they alternate. Nights with a certain someone, nights without him. What happened to my single-tude? Ahem, part of the reason behind not being in an actual committed relationship. Thought Quote **I'm in search of "the one," must not limit myself, no restrictions...**
    Tonight is an off night, so i get a touch of the lonely blues and wish i could call the C-word, X-word, unspeakable name... but no, I've vowed my pride and self respect and emotional education against making any mistakes, or causing myself any distress (which would undoubtedly come which is why I can't allow myself) by retracing those steps. Just saying, 'cause, i don't feel this way on nights that i spend with that somebody. Long comment short, something isn't quite lining up here, and I'm too tired to take it into full consideration, but i feel the monotony striking, and i must not make a long New Hampshire winter longer by continuing the... .... ... rut?

  2. Just a phase, Honor. Your twenties are just a phase.

    (I'm banking on the validity of this mantra; Caitie mentioned today that she once worked alongside a thirtysomething NYU a Starbucks...)

    - Liz