Bo Wayne NYC

06/22/2026

Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year. I came to my roof to celebrate the setting sun and the rising of the moon, Apollo and Artemis, brother and sister born on the island of Delos, forever chasing each other across the sky.

It’s been a rocky year so far but I’m keeping my head above water and trying to find my footing again. The Solstice is a good halfway point. Out with the old. The no longer needed. The things holding us back. In with the things that will bring joy into our lives. The things that open us up. That lets us be ourselves more fully. And in that vein I’ve been writing. A lot. I’m trying to see if I can finally consider myself a writer. We shall see.

At the moment here on my roof, life is perfect. And to celebrate I have the perfect cocktail: Tinto de Verano. Wine of Summer. It’s a very simple cocktail made with fairly equal parts red wine, like a Spanish Tempranillo, and lemon lime soda. Delish.

So a happy Solstice to you all. Take a moment to stop and be quiet. Let go of those things holding you back. Those things you no longer need. Those things keeping you from fully being you. And in their absence let all the good rush in and take is place.

06/22/2026

02/15/2026

Sean and I had our first date on Valentine’s Day. I was thirty-six, he was twenty-one—or so I thought for the two years we were together. After we split, we were at dinner. He was showing me his new driver’s license, happy with the photo. The birth year was off by one. No, he said sheepishly, that’s my real age.

Wait. You were only twenty when we met?, my mind spun. Why didn’t you tell me?

Because you never would have been with me, he replied

Sean first came to Akbar where I worked and everyone noticed. He was striking—Persian and Jewish with a black pompadour, a muscled body and a laugh that broke into a perfect smile. Heads turned. The next Friday he bounded up asking if I remembered him. “Yeah,” I said. “You wore that T-shirt last week.” The worst answer I could have given.

He came from money—his parents had fled Iran in ’79 and settled in the Valley. He drove a BMW, wore $300 jeans from Fred Segal and had business ventures with his brother that he didn’t seem to need. He was sweet and playful and our Valentine’s date turned into two years. Together we danced at Usher’s Grammy party, hoping Ellen and Portia might notice us. They didn’t. I took him camping only once, he hated it. And once I was being threatened by a drunk customer, he and his friend Ali jumped him, pinning him to the ground.

Outside of LA in Antelope Valley, I had discovered with my previous boyfriend David a deserted field of vehicles we called the Bus Graveyard. Just before we split, Sean, my fried Craig and I went out for the day to take photos. As we packed up to leave, a car came from nowhere disappearing behind some busses. Keep packing, I said, lets get out of here. We did. Just as we pulled out in Sean’s BMW, the car came shooting out. A toothless guy with a red bandana headband screaming at us to pull over as his friend gunned it, trying to cut us off. F**k that, Sean said flooring it. We blasted across the landscape, going airborne over dips and leaving a widening cloud of dust behind us along with the car that it quickly enveloped. It was some time before I screamed at him to slow the f**k down. They were gone.

02/11/2026

This is my grandmother‘s chili. My grandmother and my mother both came from a time when women were the home keepers. There was a lot on their plates, often working a job and then coming home to take care of their families. They didn’t have enough time to spend making a lavish meal. A lot of what they made came from a can.

This is a chilly you can put together in literally 15 minutes. A pound and a half to 2 pounds of ground beef, a can or two of pork and beans, and a packet of mccormac’s chili spice mix. Brown the beef add the beans and the spice mix and serve with saltine crackers. This is my comfort food. This is something I make regularly and I don’t alter even a smidgen. It’s not fancy, not elaborate. It’s perfect just the way it is. On cold winter days like today I’ll sit with a hot bowl and some crackers and feel the love that my grandma and mom put into it all those years making sure we were fed.

01/24/2026

Just in case you were wondering if it’s too cold out to pamper yourself with a little healthy breakfast, no. No it’s not. Courtesy of Sandwich Counter West Village (Totkes with Zatar Ranch and Sephardi Breakfast Wrap) and Big Sourdough Cinnamon Roll. Happy Saturday everyone. Stay warm out there!

01/23/2026

Yesterday I toured through Chinatown and the Lower East Side, going to some galleries and grabbing some food. Starting out at on Second Ave near me I had their Scallion Pancake Bacon Egg & Cheese sandwich which was an awesome start to the day. Then made my way to for the Faith Ringgold show which was powerful and gorgeous. Walked over to for an Ube cookie. I’ve had his Filipino flavors inspired chocolates and I love them but was hankering for a cookie. Then walked over to Mei Lai Wah for their Pineapple Pork Buns which are a steal at three dollars and delicious (hint: pay cash, you won’t wait as long). Then over to Henry Street where I stopped in and then on to .nyc for the show I wanted to catch before it leaves. Loved it, laughed a lot. From there I popped up to Canal Street to Ling Kee Beef Jerky where I got a half pound of their Curried Beef Jerky which is my favorite, then stopped in to check out some books. On my way after that I stopped into , one of my favorite East Village bakeries and got a Pickled PB&J bar (f**kin hell yes) and then made my way over to Williamsburg to where I’ve been taking Improv classes with a great group of people. Finished the day at in Williamsburg discussing class, improv and standup with the gang. All in all, not a bad Thursday I gotta say.

01/18/2026

After posting that pic in my stories the other day of the large pink inflated man I stumbled upon the other night on my way home, my friend Grace the next day sent me photos of two more large plastic men near her office with the text, “I’m seeing them everywhere.’ Quick google search and we discovered its an art project by a French artist, Philippe Katerine who created the art movement Mignonisme, or Cuteism. There were ten in all and we decided to wander around and find all ten.

For anyone following me this month, they’ll notice I’ve started posting a pic of the day in my stories. This started last year when I decided on January First I’d start taking photos every day and choose a photo of a day that went into albums, one for each month and one for the entire year, en masse.

Something happened as I began to do. Time slowed a little bit. If I go into any of those folders and look at my pic choice for a specific day, I can remember exactly what was happening, what I was doing when I took it. I remember each day from last year. And it was just fun. Trying to take a photo each day I liked enough to put into an album.

And this year, I decided that I’d start to post them to my instagram stories. Share a little bit one special moment from each of my days.

Keep a lookout for my Valentine’s boxes next few weeks. I’ve chosen all the flavors and will start on production soon. You’ll know when they are ready for purchase.

Happy January everyone. Here’s hoping all of your years slow down enough so that you remember each day.

01/04/2026

I was supposed to make this breakfast New Years Day. I have a tradition of waking up and making myself a huge breakfast with champagne and caviar. This year I opted for a classic full English breakfast with Yorkshire pudding. I love them and I’ve never made them. I added American bacon. Because every breakfast, no matter where, should contain American bacon.

When I woke up New Year’s Day, I wasn’t hungry and I wasn’t in the mood to cook. So I decided this year I’d just put it off a few days. Why not. My life, my rules. I can change them on a whim if I want. I’ve learned this as I’ve gotten older. Its ok. I don’t need to be so rigid. Relax.

Every year I try to pick a word that will define the coming year. I’ve had trouble thinking of this year’s word, putting together a list of possibilities but nothing felt right. Until New Years Day when two things happened: First, I went to get a facial since pampering yourself on the first day of the year is a smart thing to do. During my facial, Vivian, a sweet older Irish woman was about to apply a peel to my face. As she did, she said, this may be a little spicy. Which I loved. It did tingle a bit, but as I told her, we used to do so many things to our hair back in the eighties and the nineties, I wasn’t unfamiliar with the feeling of chemical burn.

Later, I was talking with an old friend of mine, Marc, whom I lived with in Paris. We hadn’t spoken in years so it was a nice surprise to get his call. Somewhere in the midst of our call he too used the phrase ‘a little spicy’.

I don’t believe the universe is conscious and can help or direct us. But this felt like the universe was telling me my problems finding my word was because it wasn’t a word. It was a phrase. So here’s to Twenty Twenty-six being a year that’s a ‘little bit spicy’.

The breakfast is: traditional English bangers, roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, English beans, American bacon, Yorkshire pudding cooked in duck fat, English scones with clotted cream with my homemade lemon marmalade and hash browns with sour cream and smoked caviar. It’s a few days late but it feels perfect. #2026

09/06/2025

It was when my mother was diagnosed with cancer that the hollows in my family’s affections for each other were drastically revealed. I was living in Amsterdam then, in a rented room on the outskirts of the city when an email arrived from my aunt Bonnie: Your mother has been diagnosed with cancer. You should call her. It doesn’t look good.

I stumbled through Skype to call. When she picked up she already knew that I knew. Ah jeez Bonnie! she said as if my aunt were standing there.

We were never really close, my small family. Dysfunctional feels too polite for the steady current of hostility in our house. We fought as naturally as we breathed. There isn’t a day that I look back on that didn’t have some animosity as a part of it.

My mother wasn’t an exception to this as much as she was the seam holding us all together. Separately, outside the house we functioned, we were happy. Inside we turned to chaos, spewing hatred at each other. My mother was the one standing in the center, trying to hold back the walls of an ever encroaching storm. I often wonder if she felt suffocated under the weight of us, if she ever dreamed of escape. I wonder how she might have grown, who she might have been had she the chance to ever be free from us.

Today would have been her eight-third birthday.

08/15/2025

So I just did a thing.

Recently I’ve gotten an ice cream attachment for my Kitchenaide. It’s replacing a cuisinart unit that I’d had for quite some time that just stopped turning the creamy liquids to the perfect ice creamy goodness. And with the heat bubbles we’ve been living through recently I decided the time had come once again for a homemade ice cream summer.

I had some bananas on my counter just inching their way past ‘perfectly spotted’ goodness, which is how I love them, and which usually only lasts about three days before they move on to, ‘good only for making banana bread’ goodness. So using my Ben and Jerry’s ice cream cookbook I made their sweet cream base, cut up the bananas and mixed the two together to sit in my fridge for a couple days, infusing.

Then yesterday, on my way home from a lovely lunch at Pastis with my good friend Carla, I stopped by Hani’s Bakery on Cooper Square to pick up two of my favorite chocolate chip cookies in the city. Sorry, not sorry Levain (there is such a thing as too many chocolate chips, although, strangely enough, it works wonderfully in your chocolate peanut butter chip cookies).

If you were to make the standard chocolate chip cookie into a planet the size of the earth (Yum!), then Hani’s would be Jupiter (which it definitely resembles, I don’t know if purposefully, with its large chocolate spot on the surface). Its a cookie that fills my hands in the best possible way like the ge****ls of one of my many pastimes. Not to mention it has not one, not two, but three different chocolates including white, which for some people, myself included, would be a turnoff. Here it works gorgeously. I’ve been meaning to write about Hani’s and this cookie for some time. Now it seems, it is the perfect time to do so.

So like peanut butter and chocolate I’ve put these two things together and come up with one of my favorite ice cream sandwiches ever. Homemade banana ice cream sandwiched between two of Hani’s triple chocolate chip cookies. Simply divine.