Gnocchi! And A Band

Ciao, Tutti!

Well, there are certainly some things I couldn't do from my 21 to 21 list. One of them was to make gnocchi so I could break down my self-confidence. Well, in guilt (and in four hours) I was able to use my new 21-year-old self to make gnocchi. All by myself. Without my awesome mother. That's right: I'm the first person between the two of us to make gnocchi from scratch all alone! Eat them apples!

Um, Mom's not a very competitive person. So this "victory" is very bitter-sweet. But whatever, I got to eat gnocchi. Here's the photographic evidence:


In the bowl


In the pan

And now, for the more important news for you potato haters out there. I think it's been enough time to announce my new musical endeavor, my joining rock band Flaming Fire as their deep electric bassist (what?). It's true. At the beginning of the semester I got a call from my friend, who sings and plays keys for the band (as well as Owl Eyes, our group), saying they were in need of a bass player. I've rehearsed with them a few times now, I'm slated to play a gig with them in October, and the dog who lives in the studio gave me a bloody nose, so I guess that's as official as it gets. So I think I can post this on the blog without being preemptive.



So, with no further ado, I have posted both the band's MySpace page and official website on the left-hand column "Links," formerly "Free Streaming of My Music." Feel free to check it out and wonder how I ended up involved in this whole thing. But as you wonder, please remember, it's quite amazing and fun. And no, Nana, I'm not doing drugs with them. Not yet.

Kidding, folks. Just kidding.

-Sam goldsmith

Group Therapy - A Reprise

Ciao, Tutti!

Here I am, once again, being a horrible person and fulfilling my promises I made in 21 to 21. I have, as of yesterday, made my first short story submission, complete with a cover letter that will probably disqualify me right away because I don't know how/if to write one.

On a completely unrelated note, you may or may not notice that "Group Therapy" has been removed from this blog. It was an old draft anyway. (I think that was draft 3 out of about 15. Yeah, I'm a freak about editing. Deal with it. Your lives will move on without it.

Ok, those weren't completely unrelated. Or even slightly unrelated. But don't worry: you'll get to see the story again soon enough for one of two reasons: 1) The Re:Write Review sends me my first ever rejection letter for a short story. This is probably most likely. 2) The Re:Write Review publishes the story, and you all buy it (right?) to read all the amazing work they publish from budding young writers.

All of this is simply to allay the panic in your hearts. You're welcome.

-Sam goldsmith

P.S. It's Hazal's birthday, everyone! And also the birthday of roughly 6.4 billion/365 other people you don't know! Yippee!

Sudden Fiction - How I Keep My Kitchen and History Does This

Ciao, Tutti!

I like "How I Keep My Kitchen" best, so I'll put it first.

But Sam, how was the first week of classes?

How was what?

How I Keep My Kitchen

She knew how I liked to keep my kitchen. She knew how I liked to wrap a rag around my hand and slide it inside the cylindrical cups and smoothly sleek wine glasses, then fold the rag into a triangle and rest it on the washer once a fine layer of dust had tinted its whiteness. She knew how I liked to restack the plates one by one, watching from above with a professor’s eye to make sure everything lined up so it looked like I was holding a single plate. She knew how I liked to set the bowls facing down to look like colorful, glazed hills rolling into the back of the cabinet without the hint of wind or of grass. She knew how I liked to coordinate the direction of the silverware, turning each fork, spoon, and knife to face the left, lying against each other’s backs like a set of curved, silver matches. She knew how I liked to align the handles for all the pots so that they each pointed to the stove next to it, a row of metal and cast-iron fingers paying homage where homage was due. She knew how I liked to keep my oven mitts lined on top of the shelf where all the cookbooks were, watching over the recipes like gargoyles over a cathedral. She knew how I liked to keep my kitchen. That’s how she knew I’ve been seeing another woman.

Fine

And now, as if out of a dream, here comes the second story:

History Does This

It happened right about when the news stations started showing reruns. Some wise guy at CNN figured he could cut costs by showing old footage from the 70’s and hope no one would notice. Soon enough all the major channels were doing it. Somewhere, far away, the current anchors were probably lying on the beach, working up a Los Angeles tan to go with that Hawaii sunburn, while the rest of us were still breathing Pittsburg air, living in downtown Cleveland apartments, and wondering when our brothers would be coming home from Vietnam.

That’s when I started seeing my ex-girlfriend again. It was a significant coincidence that we were both living in Philadelphia now, bumping into each other at a downtown cheese steak stand, both of us lonely and single. What happened next were practiced motions, but after nearly a decade without them it felt just as exciting back when I was a newbie pimple-faced horny freshman at Berkeley. It was like looking through an old collection of elementary school assignments and remembering that I, too, was once a cute little energy mass. At the same time the news reruns started. I should have paid more attention. I missed the message the first time.

Fine

I hope you enjoyed these short pieces. I am still yet to write the story about the Sierra Club guy coming to our door just after we put our dog down, but when that happens I'm sure I'll be making that dark humor piece available to you all.

As I start finding places to submit my pieces, you will notice that they will mysteriously be disappearing from the website. Copyright and everything good like that. The point is, if you feel like reading the first drafts of "A Fascinating Line," "The One Tale From College," "Cliche Central," or "Group Therapy," your days are numbered. But don't forget: these are only rough drafts. All these stories (especially "Cliche Central") have undergone significant changes since you last saw them, and hopefully you'll be able to see these changes in a real life publication someday soon.

Now, to motivate myself to do actual schoolwork...

Nah.

-Sam goldsmith

Story - June's Confession

Ciao, Tutti!

I know I've been blogging a lot lately. But I figured instead of moving my stuff out of storage so my mom can stop paying for it, I would accomplish one of my 21 things and post a new story for you all! Mom will forgive me.

I hope you all like fantasy...

June’s Confession


June's Confession has been accepted for publication by FictionBrigade for it's April e-book under the name "May's Confession," and for this reason has been removed from this page.

I figured I should write a story where the "bad parent" is the father, not the mother. I've developed a bad habit throughout my storywriting life of making my mother into a villain. Now it's the father's turn. I hope you all enjoyed the genre shift. Reminds me of "Bud Sparkle."

I'm still trying to figure out how to enable comments. Damn it all!

-Sam goldsmith

21 to 21

Ciao, Tutti!

I know, this is my third time posting a blog in the past 2 days (go make some friends!). But I realized that, with me turning 21 in exactly three weeks - yep, 21 days - I only have one day left to make a post like this. That way, I'll have to do exactly one of the following things each day to make it work. So, here goes:

21 Things I Want To Do Before I Turn 21

1) Grow up. I figured it'd have happened by now, but sadly that has not been the case. Sadly?

2) Figure out my courses for this semester. I'm only taking 15 credits this time, 3 more than I have ever taken in college so far. So why is it this stressful?

3) Choose a private instructor who will get in my way the least for my recital. I've already got a plan, dude. Sorry.

4) Go to the Metropolitan Museum and see that sculpture that Mom and Dad were raving about so much. And maybe that Michelangelo painting to get my nostalgia for Italy back in gear.

5) Run for president. I'm sorry, I mean to type "Run errands for the president." Much less glamorous, but equally impossible.

6) Go to at least one show at the Jazz Gallery. Next weekend James Carney, Ambrose Akinmusire, and the Claudia Quintet play there, all in the space of four days. I'm going to buy a sleeping bag and sleep under the bass cases in the back.

7) Post another short piece of fiction. I've been writing a lot of new stuff lately, mainly regarding a larger project, as well as editing pieces I've already shared with you. But don't fret! There's more to come. These aren't empty promises.

8) Fulfill my empty promises.

9) Write another piece of music. A good piece of music, I mean. Something I can show to my new private instructor with pride - and so he understands that I want him out of the way of my recital decision-making process.

10) Lose my virginity. Again. Because everyone knows that the first forty-two times don't count (but who's counting?)

11) See old friends. Especially Jordan and Megan, of Owl Eyes, so that we can take over the world together with our music, and Courtney and Aurora because I was in California for their housewarming party, so I still don't know what their new place looks like.

12) Find a way to listen to more music. I still haven't set up my stereo yet, and even when I do, one of the speakers is broken, the other soon to follow. Without being able to listen to music over the air, I've had trouble finding the time to listen to anything but Joe Henry. I can't just leave it on as I go about doing things anymore!

13) Work up wicked bass calluses. I need to dress to impress when I play that instrument in front of people, which I presume I will be doing this year (maybe at my recital...? Insert coy smile here).

14) Stop perspiring. I'd really like to do that at some point before I turn 21, okay, weather? Plus I hate my air conditioner.

15) Use the swimming pool a few times, play basketball a few times. I say this every year. But what else will I do with the time I gain from not taking those three credits? Wait, don't answer. It's too depressing to think about.

16) Get a little bit through "100 Years Of Solitude." Fiction sometimes is the only thing that keeps my mind focused enough to read the endless essays of college assigned reading.

17) Finish buying everything I need for my dorm room and unloading everything from storage. That was on my to-do list for TODAY. I'm maybe - maybe - a third of the way through.

18) Try cooking gnocchi again. I could use a good confidence crusher before I reach 21. Then making it to the drinking age will seem a lot more advantageous.

19) Still have not used a single meal on my meal plan. Wouldn't that be something?

20) Submit my first finished piece of fiction to a literary journal. Most likely that journal will be NYU's 10th Street. Seems like a good place to start.

21) Not tell anyone it's my birthday. God, no.

And now, for my birthday wish list! [insert here: dictionary] Just kidding. Actually, just to make your lives easier, I have absolutely nothing on my wish list right now. Seriously. I have the list in front of me. All I see is the title, "Birthday list." That's it. Sorry.

Yay for creativity!

Until I turn 21 again,

-Sam goldsmith

Do The Robot

Ciao, Tutti!

Today as I was walking down East 12th street I saw a small crowd of people hanging out with a life-sized robot. He actually looked something like this:



He was standing outside an antiques store, for some reason, and he was being very animated with the few people around talking with him. And as I walked by, he said to me enthusiastically, "Dude, NYU athletics! All right!" because I was wearing this shirt:



I gave him a thumbs up. What a friendly robot! Though in retrospect, I should have asked him to say, "Fitter. Happier. More productive." He had the perfect voice for it.

-Sam goldsmith

P.S. I still can't figure out how to turn the comments on for this thing! What the hell! I'm working on it, I'm working on it...

Welcome Back

Ciao, Tutti!

Hello. How are you? Well, enough not talking about myself.

I arrived in New York City today at 5:00 on the money, to no fanfare. There was a cute girl next to me on the plane, who I valiantly ignored (she took the middle seat! It was supposed to be so, so empty...). Plus there was a girl I could swear is from my high school across the aisle. So, naturally, I didn't say anything to her, either.

I have realized, even in this short half-day (not even) here in the city that I will always harbor a deep-seeded hatred for this place. It's unavoidable at this point. You see, there's no reason that I should start feeling lonely while taxiing in the runway. It's a triggered reaction. Ring a bell and I salivate. Send me to New York and I get lonely.

But, here I am, not wanting to talk with anyone or do anything other than unpack and sleep. Maybe this mentality will change once I've had a chance to rest off the flight. However, how can I explain this feeling that, as I watch the throngs of cheery pedestrians crowd the streets, some holding hands, some touching lips, some in schools like minnows, some in packs like wolves, that spending time with people is an incredible waste of a limited resource?

Speaking of wasting time, you might want to re-read that sentence again. It didn't even make sense to me.

Aurora said in her blog that we should get over the awkwardness and adjustment period as quickly as possible, since it's so annoying. Well, I couldn't agree more, except that I'm a little worried about what happens once I've adjusted.

My air conditioner plays a consistent high F note at a consistent interval in a very specific timbre. It happens to be the exact same as the song I wrote, "Not A Love Song," which happens to be my ringtone. So I always think my phone is ringing.

There's no room in this dorm for a vibraphone. Whatever shall I do?

I still haven't met my roommate. I've met just about everyone else on this floor, though. Maybe the whole year will be like this. ...Nah...

In the future, look for these new updates: a new story draft, possibly an improved version of "My Own Fault," maybe a hint of a song called "Window Frame," and even more possibly a song my friend Leo wrote that I performed for his recital last semester. Keep your eyes peeled!

May the zombies spare your brains... for now.

-Sam goldsmith