Community Yoga: Just Another Reason to Love the Lotus

So now that I've successfully escaped my cozy cubicle and my promising career as a speechwriter (Sam Seabourne was already feeling threatened) what on earth am I doing with my days?? Well, aside from the run-of-the-mill teaching and writing and soap-selling, I pretty much go to yoga class. And since teacher-writer-soapsellers don't make the big bucks, I tend to opt for New York's signature donation-based classes - unfortunately, these cattle calls usually involve jam-packed studios and zero individual instruction. Except! My dear Laughing Lotus. As always, their weekday Community Class (2:30-3:45PM) offers attentive teachers, innovative asanas, groovy music, and a kitschy painted goddess coming out of the wall: all for a pay-what-you-wish price. I usually shell out five bucks, which is much less than my officewear dry-cleaning ever was (and I'm convinced that those polyester work pants were terrible for my karma.)

HippieLit: this just in

Talk about offbeat and overeducated.

Exhibit A: Comic book history of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Neal Cassady and co., in all their rambling, bloodshot-eyed glory.

Exhibit B: Non-novel about the perils of being a carnivore and the values of the veg, from the trendy bespectacled Lit King himself, Jonathan Safran Foer (who has frighteningly and unsurprisingly been referred to as "JoSaFo" in those nether parts of Manhattan that refuse to speak without abbreviation. TriBeCa, I'm looking at you.)

Anyway, these neon tomes recently started appearing on bookstore front tables everywhere, and I haven't bought or read them yet, and I'm STILL posting on them. That's just how pretentious they promise to be. And we all know I love me some pretention.

masters of low-fi folk: the Mountain Goats

Nothing warms up a cold Chelsea morning like the scratchy sounds of the Mountain Goats. I wake up, hand-crank some coffee beans, put on some jangly Goats tunes and I feel like I'm in some sort of alternative Appalachia - or at least in my college painting studio where the professor would only play the "Americana" radio station, regardless of reception quality.

Based in North Carolina, the Goats have an ever-revolving cast (of drummers, usually) that revolves around songwriter / singer / guitarist / pianist John Darnielle and his signature style of recording on the most low-tech recording devices available. Like a 1980's boombox.

That said, the primary source of my Goat love is Darnielle's lyrics, which are often sad, snark-filled poems that would turn Billy Collins green with envy. My personal favorite: "I love you. I love you because / you gave me sausage and cheese / when I was hungry." And the truth has spoken, folks.

Death By Yoga: Bikram at Yoga to the People

FYI (in case you live in Nebraska or under a very un-trendy rock) Bikram yoga is hot yoga - a specific series of poses to be done in an extremely heated room. At Yoga To the People's 27th street outpost, "extremely heated" = a miserable 105+ degrees Fahrenheit.

Let's do a comparison study. Your usual vinyasa yoga class: breathing deeply, happily grooving through the poses and trying out new bizarre ones (hello, sideways crow!) before flying upside down into headstand, smiling all the way. YTTP's Bikram yoga class: unable to breathe, doing the same poses over and over, trying to fight the overwhelming feeling of total suffocation and rising nausea while the midwife-wannabe instructor is yelling at you to "push!" and your hearing goes funny and all the colors in the room start to blend together and there's a very high chance that you're gonna puke. Personally, I'd rather be at the dentist.

Freeganism: It actually has nothing to do with cheese!

Sometimes I can be a pretty half-assed hippie. It must be the lingering influence of my privileged Connecticut upbringing. Here's proof: until recently, I sort of had a vague idea that Freeganism was some sort of Veganism, except you were allowed to eat cheese (because, honestly, what hippie doesn't like cheese?) Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Freegans actually don't give a damn about cheese - unless, that is, it's been recently tossed into a dumpster. As I have now learned, with the help of well-spent hours on freegan.info, Freeganism is based on contributing as little as possible to that great big evil economy. Hence jumping in dumpsters in search of tasty treats.

Although I'll admit I have mixed feelings about the actual dumpster-diving part (although if you're up for it, I applaud you) I realized that I am already involved in various Freeganesque activities, like local eating, craftsmanship, bartering, repurposing, waiting outside the bakery for free muffins at the end of the night, general sustainability, and of course the almighty mantra of Not Buying Crap. So I'll give myself an A for effort, but I'll save the A+ for the real Freegans - those much mightier than I. And I'll also keep checking freegan.info for indescribably cool NYC Freegan events and tips like "How to Find and Eat Wild Mushrooms in Prospect Park."

Tompkin's Square Farmer's Market: From Junk to Pumpkins. Ha.

My first order of business in returning to the States is to instruct you, my fellow eco-savvy locavoracious New Yorkers, to hop on over to the Tompkins Square Farmer's Market this Sunday (7th Street and Avenue A, 8AM-6PM, open through November so catch it while you can).

My mom thinks it is beyond sketchy that this area, once a haven to NYC's 1980's heroin junky population and formerly known as Needle Park (how my mom knows about all this, I refuse to ask) is now a family-friendly spot for picking up apples and arugula. The best part: this is one of NYC's few all-accepting food stamp-friendly farmer's markets. Which means that cash is still king, but if you're of the poorer persuasion (ie me) you can swipe your EBT card in return for a fun bunch of food stamp tokens, which you can then trade for fancy maple syrup and other expensive items that you probably wouldn't buy with your actual money. And nothing beats sweets and tokens - it's just like going to the arcade!

Just another travel excuse: Northern India

Yes, I haven't written for a bit, and I know all of my dear friends and blog-followers (not to mention Sam Rosenbaum's mom!) have been missing out on their weekly dose of NYC hippie antics. But my excuse is that I've been missing out on them too, as I was running around India doing offbeat and overeducated hippie activities such as becoming a badass Hindi-speaker, getting covered in mehndi (which is now freaking out my soap store customers), jumping up and down in front of the Taj Majal, and doing headstands at 4AM at an Indian farmhouse. But I'm back now, so just chill out, ok??

Veg Patrol: Community Food and Juice

Somewhat lame name, decidedly good food - for veggies and meatheads alike. Community Food and Juice, on Broadway between 112th and 113th, recently reopened (after a fire, I think) and inspired throngs of joyful Morningsiders to line up outside and recommence the exciting-yet-boring NYC weekend ritual known as Waiting For Brunch.

But never fear: the folks at Community know how to make the wait worthwhile - not only is there a 7-grain waffle (with rum roasted apples and pears and cinnamon creme fraiche) and a Barnard Bear (hot lemon, mint, apple cider and honey) waiting for you at the other end of that brunch line, but if you're lucky the servers/foodfairies will bring you some free tasty treats while you're waiting. And no matter what, the wait won't be as long as at Sarabeth's.

The Quest for Free Yoga Continues: Lululemon

I found another one! And it may be the best deal yet. Although my standby studios (Laughing Lotus and Yoga to the People) both offer donation-based classes, AND I recently discovered the amazingly free yoga open house day at Sivananda Yoga Vedanta Center, so far Lululemon is the ONLY place in New York that offers weekly yoga classes, 100% free. Correct me if I'm wrong (which I hope I am, because more free yoga = happier and healthier me. And perhaps you, too.)

Anyway, every Saturday at 9AM at Lululemon's Union Square branch, you can pop in for a not-too-crowded class that features a different guest teacher every week, moonlighting from various studios across NYC. So if you don't like the style, just wait a week. And after class you can step straight out into the Union Square Farmer's Market for lavender-mint tea and a delicious pumpkin muffin. Or, hell, buy a whole pumpkin pie. The yoga class was free, so you're allowed.

Because its Halloween, and this is better than candy.

Just a quick post to say Happy Halloween (when brainstorming costumes, my boyfriend idiotically suggested we dress as hippies, to which I responded "Um, how would that be different from any other day of the year??") and to rave about a newly discovered sweet treat. At first glance, Raw Ice Cream Company's yummy stuff seems to be made out of nothing: it boasts that it is dairy-free, sugar-free, soy-free, gluten-free, rice-free...the list goes on. Given the remaining ingredient possibilities (I dunno, seaweed?!?) this could turn out to be pretty disgusting. OH but it is not. It's actually fabulous (and seaweed-free): made from cashews, coconut, agave nectar and magic, this stuff is even better than Haagen-Dazs. So skip the candy and cancer sticks tonight (Twix, duh. They're worse than cigarettes) and enjoy some raw vegan ice cream goodness.