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And here we have a Classic Melanie Sunday with all the fixins:

- Jazz club morning feat. oddball chanteuse Nellie Mckay

- Stumbling upon the gorgeous Jefferson Market Library (a former courthouse with a fascinating history) and taking a moment to stand in awe of this gorgeously rare site of adaptive reuse in NYC

- Making a game-time decision to go to Fotografiska for the (I’m sorry to say, disappointing) David LaChapelle exhibition. It was a thrill to see Death by Hamburger, though—that image was my phone-screen background for many years.

- Thought for a moment I might rebound with dinner at the Union Square Cafe, but decided to just call it a night with a Lucy Worsley BBC docuseries at home instead

Ah, the spinster life!

This was another Classic Melanie Saturday. It had everything:

- Biking to LIC with plans to stay there much longer than I actually do

- Embarking on one random out-of-the-way errand that serves as an excuse to take the ferry into Manhattan (today’s was tracking down an older issue of The Paris Review to read the feature interview with Sigrid Nunez) (Speaking of the ferry, the best vantage point is standing on the back deck. No people [usually]. Shielded from midday sun. Sweeping city vistas. Epically churning water. Incredible vibration beneath the feet.)

- Biking into West Village traffic and getting flustered

- Getting weirdly read by a drunk girl after I watched her drop her debit card on the ground: “I’m gonna analyze you. You’re not gonna like this. You’re very intelligent, but you’ll never find love because you’re too inflexible.”

- Trying to eat somewhere cute and different in a new neighborhood but opting for something tried and true instead (The Grey Dog in this case)

- Feeling major feelings at an Indie film matinee

- Considering a 6 p.m. espresso, getting a pumpkin beer instead

- Asleep by 11 p.m.

The SW entrance of the 5th Ave-59th St station is so mysteriously luxe.

This chocolate mouse def knows it’s about to be eaten.

You can’t tell here, but there are thousands, if not millions of tree swallows flying high high high in the sky, making their way to their sleeping spot in the reeds on the other side of this river.

le-corbustier