Looking Forward

The Irish Hunger Memorial, Battery Park...the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend

The Irish Hunger Memorial, Battery Park…the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend

It’s been seven months since my last post about a breakup I was going through, and a very dark time in my life. I’ve been kind of hiding out since then and having all sorts of bad associations with my blog. Bad associations with my own blog! The blog I worked so hard to get going. The blog that was born of my getting laid off from work, which became a productive little way for me to spend my time, and get back to my writing and myself.

But really that’s not the whole story. I stayed away out of shame, because after writing my grand Breakup Manifesto—filled with heartache and despair and Gloria Gaynor-isms (I Will Survive!)—I wound up getting back together with my boyfriend. Yes, the one who withdrew and acted shady but didn’t have the decency to admit to me that something was “off.” The one I badmouthed and felt mistreated by. The one I twisted myself into a pretzel for to get back with…well guess what? It worked! I managed to milk another four months out of it.  Continue reading

Are You Breaking Up With Me?

I’m going through a breakup. Not the kind where you have a fight and he says, “Listen, I can’t do this anymore. It’s over.” And then you scream and yell, have makeup sex, text wars for days, then let’s-take-a-break’s, then more makeup sex. And then maybe after all that you do really break up or maybe you don’t. But no matter the outcome it’s fiery and dramatic and full of “Eff you”s (“No, eff you!”) And what you are is an active participant—an equal player who refuses to go down without a fight—all the while sporting an “Are-you-serious?” attitude. “You wanna give up all this?” (Sweeps hand up and down body). Continue reading

Google’s Tribute to Claude Debussy

Google's Tribute to Claude Debussy

Today’s Google Doodle set to Claire de Lune to commemorate Claude Debussy’s 151st Birthday. Hauntingly beautiful.


Colombian flag.My sister Helen posted a beautiful story about Colombia, South America—the country my mother is from, and a very special place to us. I’m sharing it here:

I’m flying back from a week in Colombia. I was there doing press for my new show that I’m hosting, That’s Fresh Colombia. I’m in a bit of disbelief of all the wonderful and indescribable things that have happened this week. I’ve been nervous, overwhelmed, grateful, full of pride, and love. This week has mostly reaffirmed my belief in magic and divinity. CLICK BELOW TO READ MORE…


New York, A Love Story

Who the heck goes to the dentist at the Helmsley Building? A New Yorker does, that’s who.

I went with my aunt to her dentist appointment on a gorgeous day in New York—one of those rare but beautiful summer days: 80 degrees, sunny, dry, breezy. My aunt is 87 and doesn’t get around so easily anymore, so I go with her to appointments and help with errands. It seemed like the whole world was out and I couldn’t help thinking how I often run around this city mindlessly trying to get from one place to the next, barely stopping to catch my breath while elbowing people out of my way. But then there are days like this when I slow down and take it all in (that, plus my aunt can’t walk so fast).

And then it hits me: I LIVE IN NEW YORK CITY. New Yorkers have appointments with their dentists in the Helmsley Building. Actually, my dentist is on Central Park South, where I drool overlooking the treetops while my teeth are flossed and polished. I walk past The Plaza Hotel and the Essex House on my way there and breathe in the smell of horse shit from the carriages that cart tourists around the park. Sometimes I’ll treat myself afterwards to a quiche at Bouchon Bakery in the Time Warner Center down the street. And then I’ll meander through the park or just hop on the subway home. Technically, I suppose I am bridge and tunnel now that I live in Long Island City, but I’ve been in and around this city long enough to have earned my NYC badge.

View of Central Park from Dr. Farrington's office

View of Central Park from Dr. Farrington’s office

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Mango Salsa

I’ve been eating magoes like they’re going out of style these past few weeks. I get them in the Indian markets in Jackson Heights, Queens where they sell them by the box for like $7.99 for ten. Did you hear me…$7.99 for 10, for the big red and green, juicy ones!

The great thing about Queens is that it is super-ethnic, meaning the food and ingredients you find here are the real deal, and super cheap to boot. Nothing gives me greater pleasure than sharing an amazing food find and these mangoes are an absolute gem. They remind me of the mangoes we eat in Colombia when we visit my family in the little town of Girardot, where my mother grew up. It’s a tropical place [read: hot as blazes, although not unlike the weather we’ve been having lately in New York] but I have great memories of spending time there as a kid and eating the most delicious mangoes for breakfast.


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Being Awesome in Drag

—An acquaintance who read the title of my blog too fast, then admitted: “I’m a gay man.”

Carmen Miranda, Chica Chica Boom Chic

Carmen Miranda: not a drag queen, but certainly fabulous and the inspiration for countless future generations. Click image for clip from That Night in Rio.

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