Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Dear Nike

Dear Nike, I'm a loyal customer. I run in your shoes, walk in your shoes, feel sympathetic with your brand. The cold season is approaching fast. I was thinking I should get a pair of Nike high tops so went to both Niketown and Nike Running to look for new shoes.

There were high tops, but ONLY HIGH HEELED ones.
When asked why there were no regular high tops, a female staff member looked sad and said "I don't know why, actually another customer asked the same thing earlier today".

At a different floor, I asked a male staff member.
He said you only carried high heeled high tops cause they're a lifestyle fashion choice.
Regular high tops,  I was told by your dedicated employee, are a specialty shoe for playing  basketball.

Seriously, does all your marketing research show that your female customers buy high tops to play basketball? In that case, someone or rather lots of people, are lying to you.

Please sell regular high tops in your stores. I'm a non-basketball playing adult who need to be able to move fast and not freeze. Call it my lifestyle if you want.
But don't give me the lone option of buying high heeled shoes under the caption "TO LIVE".
To me, it would make more sense if that store heading read "To struggle, to fall, to move at less than ideal speed."

Speaking on behalf of myself and at least that other woman customer at your store today.
-emi guner,

Sunday, October 27, 2013

Meanwhile, in Sweden

Just received this pic from dad, taking care of fall business at the commune.

Monday, October 21, 2013

I love you, lost camera

I lost my (actually Anders') Canon 500D in a yellow cab in NYC. The loss of the camera has given me phantom pains. I keep looking for it in our home, though I know it's not here. I just want it to materialize, magically. I hate myself for losing it. Can't let it rest. 

If you're in NYC and find a Canon and browse through the pics and recognize us, let me know. 
I loved that camera. Really really did. 

Förbjud mig, tack.

Ny Metrokrönika om att vara en som tappar precis allt. 
Som för att bevisa sanningen i min egen text har jag tappat både mobil (fått tillbaka) och kamera (ej fått tillbaka) sedan jag skrev den. Den helige Antonius är mitt skyddshelgon, han som alla vi som tappar saker ska vända oss till, inklusive de som förlorat ben, armar och eventuellt förståndet.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Life as a mom in New York

The question I get the most from old friends these days is "How is life in New York"?
It's better than I could have dreamed of, I love it so far. 

But there are some things people don't tell you that I thought you should know if you're considering a move here. 

Be prepared to suddenly develop a "need" for manicures and to fill out 2-3 release forms for your child.  Every day. 

Here, a child's freedom comes in writing. Signed by you. Over and over and over. 

Thursday, October 17, 2013

Actually looking forward to this

For the first time in history, Vince Vaughn seems to be cast as a somewhat sympathetic character.




Imagine the joy of the little gold leather fringe as I skip down the street. 
Perhaps I'm too young for this stuff. 
But maybe not. 

More Cloisters

Lech, I saw you at the Cloisters!

Also: our source of joy next to a source of water.

Just pics.

It takes an hour to go from The New York Aquarium to our house. 

The artist. 

The behind the scenes.

Dad just left

Miss him already. Oh the joy to have parents to love, year after year after year. 
I still remember the feeling of seeing the world from his shoulders, from my little hand disappearing into the vast warmth of his hand.

Friday, October 11, 2013

So bold.

Everything about Hungry-Man seems like it's made up by and narrated by Ron Burgundy.

Älskar denna rubrik

Welcome to Brooklyn

The other day, saw a mother on the street who had shaved her hair into a thick tonsure.
It looked like a giant, shiny hairy donut.

Impressed and bewildered.

Is there no other kind?

Tried to google "Midlife" and found it impossible to do so without also encountering its unwelcome sidekick "crisis".

Thursday, October 10, 2013

My one and only stand-up joke and it's not even a joke

My one and only stand-up joke is not even a joke, but heartfelt bewilderment.
It's about dry cleaners who supposedly are in the business of caring for your most treasured textile possessions. They return the sentiment by stapling your clothes. And we let them keep doing just that.

Munro wins Nobel Prize

Happy about this year's decision, an author I've read and really liked, a person who personifies the only writing tip that's ever worked for me:

The proper subject of the novel is universal human experience grounded in the minutiae of ordinary life.

Ps. Margaret Atwood, not sure how this will affect your future chances. We love you too!

Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Didn't know I agreed with Nietzsche so much

I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you

I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time.

Found these two quotes that really resonated with me and am now worried, does this mean I actually have to go ahead and read Nietzsche?


So started reading the NYT review for Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch but couldn't finish reading the review because my inner child screamed "Don't tell me the story before I get the chance to read it for myself".

Does it work that way for you too?
I know it's childish, it's naïve but still.

How do you treat book reviews? Do you read them or shy away from them? After reading the review don't you feel you know too much to fully enjoy the book?

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Coelho, Sting och JAG.

Igår när jag var på fest började de spela "Every breath you take" med The Police och då trillade de sannaste ord jag någonsing sagt ur min mun:

"Sting, han är som sandpapper på min själ. Och det menar jag på det dåliga sättet."

Fick noll respons på det. Ibland är man så ensam, särskilt med det man känner starkast.

Jag tycker egentligen inte att man ska TILLFOGA UNIVERSUM MER SMÄRTA i form av tex negativ input om Sting men tror ni att någon form av kritik når honom?

Jag klarar inte Sting. Så det är tur att det finns så många andra som älskar honom.

Eftersom jag skriver saker som "Jag tycker egentligen inte att man ska TILLFOGA UNIVERSUM MER SMÄRTA" så vet ni nu att jag är på väg in i en Coelho-dimma och undrar samtidigt:
Har ni tänkt på att Alkemisten stavas med "emi"?

det var bara det.

Ung, kär och förnedrad

En sann historia från mitt liv - nu som krönika i Metro

New York this weekend

This city leaves you with one single phrase in your head: Never a dull moment.

Such a weird dish. Peanuts in vinegar? Why would you do that? Even more important - why would you serve it to innocent visitors? Do you really hate tourists THAT MUCH?

A friend who really knows me brought important fare. Marzipan is a food group.

I know this doesn't look too friendly but this is one of my kids' favorite spots in the world. That is actually one of my kids in the distance, on a bike. And me behind the camera thinking to myself "did he learn to use the breaks on his new bike yet? Soon, I'll find out".

I think this is a very harsh and scary way to get kids worried about stuff they're not usually worried about. And by kids I mean myself. Invisible nasties.
That's a very British way of encouraging dental hygiene paranoia is it not?


Went to a birthday party this weekend but didn't drink that much because I thought the oil on the table was honey and so poured it into my chilled vodka and thus sat through dinner with an oily vodka. People, there are good reasons you've never tried this drink. The very nice man who sat next to me offered to try it and said - which proves he was a very nice and optimistic man "You know it's not bad. You don't really reach the oil - it's elusive in nature compared to the vodka so when you tip the glass the oil shies away."

Later on, he had meat and I asked him what kind of meat he was eating -  like what body part was in his dish. He  happily offered his guess: "I think every single one of them".

Post my vodka gaffe I thought the contents of large carafes on tables was ready-blended vodka cranberry so had a few of glasses of that and then realized it was just juice. 

Was so behind the rest of the party by the end of my peculiar drinking behavior that I felt like we were traveling on different trains heading into the night and so just had a few beers and left it at that. 

Then, while I was happy to just reunite with a bunch of friends who'd flown in from Stockholm for this party, was told that months, perhaps even a year ago I had made a favorable impression on two people I really like but barely know. They said "now let's meet your husband too" and so the four of us were suddenly out together talking on the street and I felt a little like I was on audition but had sadly forgotten my lines. 

All in all though, great party and most important: the birthday person himself seemed so happy, basking in love. 

Then today had such a great day. It rained a little and fall was in the air  or even more - fall was so palpable it didn't feel like you could just breathe it in but eat it. 

How I still feel every time I get a text.