Choire Sicha

Hi, I'm Choire Sicha, and we aren't fools to fall in love but let 'coupledom' die.

Please note: All email on 12/22 and early 12/23 bounced. Also, everything here is a little broken right now; having some "stuff" done "under the hood" over Xmas week. Don't mind the mess!

I'm also the editor of Gawker, a website obsessed to death with Manhattan's media and culture, and a contributing writer at The Morning News. I do like me some parties and I also love some freelance. Enquire within.

Recent essays and stories:

Entertainment, Weakly [in The New York Observer]. An evening with The Believer, in which -- go figure -- I find myself as conflicted as everyone else.

Meet Me On Joey Ramone Place [in The New York Observer]. Sometimes memorials have meaning; East 2nd Street gets a new name.

Chelsea's Crazy Hanging Garden [in The New York Observer]. West Chelsea may get an incredible -- or unincredible -- public park. But what do the landlords get?

French Film, French Film [at The Morning News]. After a decade in New York, every streetcorner, building, and section of the deli will remind you of someone you've been in love with.

Over the River And Through the Sleaze: Corcoran Uncorks [in The New York Observer]. Real estate queen Barbara Corcoran, conceptual artist Glen Seator, and a theory of the gentrification of Brooklyn.

The Media Lunch [in The New York Observer]. The California recall, porn star and candidate Mary Carey, The Day of the Locust, and the media profit centers do lunch.

Ronald Reagan and Reading Proust [at The Morning News]. So heavy hangs the head of she who wore the crown the night before: a three-day diary of literary celebrities, self-loathing, and the Wolfowitz Riots at the New Yorker Festival.

The Non-Expert: Broken Hearts [at The Morning News]. In this everchanging world in which we love in, to misquote Mr. McCartney, people get hurt every day. What we sometimes forget is that people get un-hurt every day too. Let's patch you up and get you back in the game.

The New York City Tattoo Convention [at The Morning News]. In a generation, body art has gone from subversive to suburban, so it now takes a lot more ink to stand out. Geoff Badner and I cover the permanently-etched tragedies that become comedies.

The Problem With Airplanes. Tonight, I'm riding on an airplane for the first time in 12 years. Probably. If I start throwing up before we board, I might not get on. I don't really want to get on the plane, but really, I'm tired of being the person who doesn't get on planes.

A Letter from New York City's President. From time to time, my office receives petulant letters from recent visitors to New York who live in the quaint villages and hamlets of America. New York is so smelly, they write. My vacation there scared me, they whine. I was beaten up by your police officers, they claim. Ever so rarely, I receive a letter with actual grammar and real content worthy of my response. This letter is one such marvel.

Logic. While my father and step-mother were off milking the goats on their farm on the grounds of the state mental hospital for the criminally insane, I would practice the logic exercises left to me for entertainment and education. Beneath my window in my part-time bedroom a massive mint bush sprawled; out past that was the barn where the food animals were slit open as they hung from hooks in their ankles, beyond that the sheep pasture, and then the 101 freeway. Staring out at that and beyond in the dry afternoons, I'd try to learn the order of the Greek alphabet and fail.

Notes Toward a Constitution for Communal Beach Houses. While we all at least conceptually understand the basics of living with other people -- don't crap with the door open, don't leave your fingernail trimmings on the coffee table -- there is a finesse to summer household arrangements that is often never properly learned. To hasten the end of lifestyle disasters, I would like to offer a few observations.

It Must've Been Something I Hate [at The Morning News]. I spent three days recently in New York City's ~~prison industrial complex~~ Criminal Court, being judged on whether I was the right person to judge others in a series of unseemly trials. Join me on an in-depth tour of jury duty in Manhattan, won't you? Just pass through this metal detector, check your politics at the door, and come on in!

Bling Bling Strategies for the New Economy. While commingling with the impecunious recently, my thoughts naturally turned to the state of my dot-com ravaged brokerage account. Suddenly it came to me: there is a way to make money in these rocky times! I really don't have to end up like these awful poor people! If you're rich, and you need help either now or after your death, I have -- no, I am -- the solution for you.

Celebrity. Like two avenging Rapunzels high in the vertiginous brick towers of their massive London Terrace apartment complex, Susan Sontag and Annie Liebowitz gaze down upon Manhattan. Often (of course, before their alleged estrangement), I would picture them knitting an endless kaffiyeh-and-dollar-sign-patterned scarf in their vine-crusted rooftop garden. In my mind, Susan would pause in her knitting to lean against a gargoyle, fixing her Mothra radar gaze to Tenth Avenue in fond protection of conceptually-pure ideologues. Across the patio, Annie, our avatar of photographic commerce, rests her multiple blue arms whilst x-ray scanning the desolate cross-streets for the best facial structures.

The Complicated Art of Chelsea [at The Morning News]. Don't get me wrong: my middle name is Art. No really, after my grandfather. Anyway, I love the the stuff... or at least, I did. Join me on a three-hour tour of West Chelsea's art galleries.

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the xml feed is here, and if you really must, you can delve into the past here.
thanks for spending a moment with me. perhaps you'd enjoy seeing who i see:

my girl gang will totally cut you:
→blaise →elizabeth →jennie →jonno →lance →leslie →meg →philo

gangsters from the block:
→aaron →anil →ariel →ernie →faustus →lisa →lockhart →mom →nick →richard →steve

join me for a meeting in town hall:
→gothamist →the morning news →world new york

clock some mofos who can write:
→alison →bob →dana →dong resin →mary →matthew →michael →mimi →skot

about this site:
©2000-2003, choire sicha. i use blogger for posting automation. the rest is handcoded by my squirrels. i am hosted by kinetic medium. this page is validating css.

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