Nothing Wild

My name is Nikkitha and my rising sign is Capricorn. I live in Brooklyn and it's not as cool as it would have been 6 years ago, but I like it nonetheless.

Nothing Wild

Just another Wednesday at #bookcourt

Just another Wednesday at #bookcourt

Am I the only one who found the cover of this NYTimes mag totally bizarre? Or not so much bizarre as…huh?

Am I the only one who found the cover of this NYTimes mag totally bizarre? Or not so much bizarre as…huh?

Reflection on a construction site on N 7th St #brooklyn

Reflection on a construction site on N 7th St #brooklyn

Got a random text… From 1970 #scifi

Got a random text… From 1970 #scifi

Up Close and Personal with an Average Chennai Produce Section

I love supermarkets in other countries, especially the produce aisle, because it’s so familiar yet not, hyperlocal culture peeping through a globalized model. Eggplants here are called brinjal, and are about a third of the size of your average American eggplant. (Eggplants are aubergines in the UK. Clearly eggplant is the Rumpelstiltskin of vegetables.)

I had intended to just by a Kit Kat and leave, but was mesmerized by these colors. I locked eyes with a gourd and that was it (you had me at gourd). With the acres of time I have here, I decided to make some sort of half-baked photo essay about all the differences that caught my eye, from the availability of “snake gourds” to Fuji apples that are Limited Too pink. 

Vegetables with cute double names:

image

image

All of the gourds, all of the gourds:

image

image

image

image

How odd vegetables sound with the adjective after the noun:

image

image

image

(Corn, baby!)

Endearingly misspelled:

image

image

(Fun fact: the core of a Jack Furit can be enjoyed as a cocktail nut)

Tropical fruits: 

image

image

Dragon Fruit! I had only ever seen it in Vitamin Water form.

image

image

(I think those are avocados)

These just looked cool:

image

image

Roma and I rendezvoued at a restaurant called Cafe Tryst en route to Pondicherry, and I insisted on ordering mozarella sticks because that’s what people do in India didn’t you know? As predicted, they were rubbery little things and we left a few on the plate before going for a walk. When we came back, this happened:

Inside a Bakery (and a Convenience Store) in Seoul

I know there’s no logic to blogging about Korea while I am in India, but I’m not really known for speediness. It’s taken me about two months to upload these photos onto the computer. 

I walked into this high rise with chrome glass windows and a futuristic etching of a large red bird at its entrance, thinking this would be a good place to use the bathroom (not sure how that logic gelled). Look what I stumbled upon!

That’s when the baker told me I couldn’t take photos, but I wasn’t going to let my only two photos from this place be of willies (spliced, shriveled, edible…), so I snuck in just one more:

A croque monsieur volcano, essentially. The baker was about to kill me so I bought this last one and then photographed: 

An “Olive Boomerang,” which is exactly as it sounds. Bakeries in Korea are such that you pick a tray and a tong, pick up what you want and then pay for all of it together in the end. I can’t be trusted with that kind of self-control. Or this kind: 

The Chivas right above the frozen food section! As an afterthought to those frozen rice cakes, might as well throw some of this in the cart. 

"The landlady called Liao unsociable and eccentric"

"The landlady called Liao unsociable and eccentric"

The Romantic Movement, Excerpt I

I am continually astounded by every few sentences in Alain de Botton’s The Romantic Movement, and have decided to post the ones I find particularly resonant or just funny. But first, never judge a book by its cover:

                  

"The Stendhal of the 90’s dating scene," according to Pico Iyer. John Updike calls it witty and cogent.

Now, the quote: 

"No wonder Alice admired the great love stories, with their enviable sense of necessity and inevitability. Her attraction was not naively based on the assumption that stories were happy, but rather that they had sense to them. Every scene was there to make a point, even a boring scene was there to say something about boredom. Aristotle defined the difference between horror and tragedy as plot.”

"After a time we do become types, sad parodies of all we have striven to be. With what desperate speed do we rush into our lives and later, bewildered, behold them recede like some wave which, not finding a rock whereon to gloriously shatter itself, only puckers its lip on the sand."



- Evan S. Connell, from “Cocoa Party”