I head over to Williamsburg by subway; I've been feeling anxious for most of the morning, so I stop in at the Blackbird Parlous and have a glass of wine and write and read Hemingway. I feel better, and I run across the street to the Shoe Warehouse. Sadly, they don't have TOMS in my size, but I bought some great sandals that were 50% off. Hurray!! I head back to DUMBO and sit on the grass in the Brooklyn Bridge park and read. At 5:50, I take my stuff over to Jenna's, hang out for a bit, then bike to Marshall's show. I have a detailed conversation with Karlene, while I'm getting ready, about what I am going to wear. I feel like dressing up, but hate being overdressed. In the end, I say, fuck it, and wear my favourite black and white dress from club monaco, and the new sandals that I picked up earlier. Pretty much as long as it's not a hardcore show, it will be fine.
I get to the Party Expo, a converted party supply store space and find Marshall. The space looks less like a venue and more like a dingy jam space. It makes me think of late nights after Mod Club, and I wonder when the fake karaoke and BBQ Lays chips will be busted out.
The bar isn't open yet, so we run down the street to grab a 6-pack and then drink them in the alley behind the space while we catch up. I haven't seen Marshall in ages, and he is only one of those people who I don't know very well, but we run into each other a couple of times a year and always have really greta conversations. Marshall has just started a new job that involves running around and picking stuff up for production or some show, building sets, some other stuff?? I forget. But he loves it and loves the people he's working with and it pays well, and I'm completely envious. I can't wait until the day when I can say I work in a young, creative and dynamic and challenging environment that also allows me to pay the bills and save a bunch on the side.
The space starts to fill up a bit, and the first band gets ready to go on. It is not a hardcore show; it IS, however, a metal show... which confuses Marshall a bit, because his band is not at all metal, and they are the headliners. Everyone else in the crowd is dressed in cutoffs and ripped tees, and I feel a little out of place, but I also don't really care.
Drinks, bands, chats. I meet a few of Marshall and his bandmates friends, and after the show is over, we decide to head to Bedford Ave to hit a few bars. To avoid my getting lost, I hop on the subway with with a boy named Chris, rather than trying to find my way by bike. We go... somewhere. I don't remember the name of the bar... but we are the first ones there (the band had to drop some gear off), so we grab a few beers and a booth. I don't remember much of what we talked about, except that Chris is also from Ashland, and he moved out here not too long ago and he loves his family a lot and misses them. I tell him that I am always envious of people who are really close to their families. Other people show up, and our booth fills up, and i decide to run across the street and grab Chris and I some pizza. YUM! It has sundried tomatoes and roasted garlic and pesto and a bunch of other crap on it, and it's delicious.
Side note: condiments generally offered in pizza places are salt, pepper, garlic salt, oregano, chili flakes, and SOMETIMES parmesan cheese, which seems to be a bit of a contentious issue. Some places put it out in the open, some places get angry when you ask for it, or in this case, the man behind the counter kind of grumbles at you, runs off somewhere, and then appears a few seconds later with a pile of parmesan bundled up in a piece of wax paper. Pizza politics!!
Back to the bar, we grab a few more drinks and then head somewhere else. I meet some more friends and I forget their names. There's a photobooth in this place and I tell Marshall that he has to get some photos with me before he leaves. It's late, but I have been talking to Chris all night and I am drunk and I decide to stay out later. At the end of the night, I take one more round of photobooth pictures with the three boys who are left at the bar with me.
We then head out, and they all seem concerned for my safety for my bike ride home. I can't tell if they all think that I'm adorable or they all think that I am toooooo drunk or both. Or maybe it's just the way that young men are in new york city; they buy you drinks and they hold open doors, and even if they just met you, they want to make sure that you get home safely.
I try to tell them that I have been biking home every night and that I will be ok, but they all insist that I need to at least borrow a bike light from Matt and his place is around the corner so we walk over and grab it. Before I leave, he insists that I add myself to his facebook via his iPhone.
I walk with Chris and his friend (why can't I just remember names?!?!?!) to the nearest subway station and they convince me that I should not be trying to bike home and that I should actually say in Williamsburg. I say that I will think about it and get on the subway with them and head closer to Chris' place. I am waffling between staying and biking home as I'm suppose to get up early to go on a bike ride with 'roommates' from John Street.
When we get off the subway I decide that I do not, in fact have the energy to bike around getting lost for two hours, so I will crash at Chris' house. We walk a few blocks and head upstairs. I borrow a t-shirt; he puts on some Bat for lashes; we hop into bed; makeouts ensue. As if I didn't know that this was going to happen.
Though I try to wake up early, it's not early enough, especially considering that it will probably take me an hour to get home because I will get lost.
I always feel awkward in the mornings with boys, because I am self conscious and never want to be that girl who hangs around, so instead I probably come across as horribly aloof. Chris and I snuggle and I try to sleep, but I was never good at sleeping in, and New York is so hot and I am worrying that someone needs the only extra set of keys to Jenna's apartment.
Chris offers to bike me home so that I don't get lost, but I tell him not to worry, and he says that I have to at least text him when I get home to make sure that I got there safe.
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I get home and Jenna is gone for the day, and her roommate Henry and his friend wake up soon and I worry that they are judging me. I feel like I should be doing something with my day, but I am exhausted and hung over and all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch movies all day. I want to be alone doing nothing ALL DAY. I always forget how much alone time I need until I am actually around people all the time with no real space of my own.
Eventually, Henry and friend head out for the day to bike around the city. I turn on the TV and watch episodes of scrubs between naps. The Internet informs me that 'roommates' went to dumpster pools on their bike ride, and all of a sudden I feel like a huge loser for letting a night out and a hangover get in the way of one of the main summer things that I was looking forward to in New York. I have missed the dumpster pools. Huge womps. If I had woken up an hour earlier and actually made the effort, I would have had a great sunny day biking around the city with a group of super friendly awesome kids. I care, but also don't. Such is life.
Chris and I text back and forth periodically throughout the day; I hope that we hang out soon, and I am now wishing that since noone needed my keys, that I had just stayed and hung out all morning - we would probably be grabbing brunch right now.
Later, I grab sushi at a spot next door. I'm sitting at my table, reading Hemingway when I'm interrupted by some old guy at the table next to me. You know those people who you can just tell are creeps and are looking for some excuse to interrupt whatever you're doing because somehow they imagine that you will magically be interested in them; the ones who seem to think that you're probably just pretending to be reading and you're just waiting with baited breath until they talk to you, because you really want to sit and have a glass of wine with some gross out of touch 70 year old guy? This was one of those guys.
"So, do you like Hemingway?" He says this in a manner that is at once trying (and failing) to be seductive, and also trying to somehow make me believe that he is much more clever and wise than I am at my young, tender age. I don't know how to describe it.
I answer "yes" curtly, and though it's clear that I'm ignoring him, I can feel him staring at me with a lecherous grin on his face. sick.
A few moments later, he gets the hint and stands up to leave; he stumbles and falls over, and normally I would be concerned, but he isn't really hurt and he's such a creep that I feel that he deserves this ego bruising for trying to make me uncomfortable. Why do a few creepy old men have to ruin things for other people? I'm sure that there are a lot of nicer old men out there who just like talking to young people, who women just assume are total creeps because of assholes like this one.
I go home, and run into new roommates, who are heading out to dinner. They are going out for drinks later, and I say that I might join them but I'm not sure. A few hours later, they have not returned, and I realize that they were heading straight out. I'm disappointed and relieved at the same time. All this drinking is taking its toll. I'm not as young as I used to be!!! I text them to see about meeting up and they are has some bar in Manhattan and the idea of trying to get there on my own is too tiring so I stay in. Henry and his friend her in around and immediately go to bed. I stay up a bit later and then dose off.
At 3 am, I am woken up by Andrew, the other roommate getting home from the bar. Andrew is what I would call a "character". He grabs some leftovers from the fridge, gives me a hard time for not coming out (so... you had to stay in and sleep because you have so much work to do tomorrow? [not in an asshole way]), he rolls a joint and tries to smoke it, but the paper ripped and it doesn't work out. He then decides to make a pear bong, and smokes pot over the stove while blowing the smoke up the fume hood. He offers me some, but I fear that if I smoke any that I will get a second wind and stay up until 4 am watching documentaries on the tv.
A while later, he heads to bed and I fall back to sleep.
Meoooooooooow. Today there is suppose to be a bbq on the roof, and I was going to go to the waterfront to watch chromeo later, but it's raining and there are lightning storms in the forecast. So who knows. I think that I am going to go shopping and to pick up some postcards to send to my favourite lady friends. I miss home.
SIDE NOTES:
-Dumbo is a really small neighbourhood that is kind of tedious to get out of. There is only one place that is open for breakfast before 11 am, so I have been there a few times. Every time I am disappointed with their food and I want to punch someone (I only keep coming because I need somewhere to write in the mornings where I can actually eat something). The SPACE is nice enough, but the breakfast is so boring I could cry, their hashbrowns are at once oily and watery, and I just got a refill on my coffee that tastes so burnt that I could vomit.
- I wish that I could get over being incredibly self conscious when it comes to boys and to asking people who I think are really cool to hang out. I wish that I was at my other home away from home this weekend, because Rian is awesome and I would really like to hang out with her more before I leave. Also, I would actually really just like to hang out with Chris tonight, and he clearly likes me because he was texting me all day yesterday, but I get nervous!!!
- I have just over a week left. This week I am going to go to Coney Island, the MET and the MoMa. I also need to hang out with Codrin's friend ________ who I have to give a package to on his behalf. I also need to find some moonshine distillery to get some for Mike, pick up some stationery, and AT LEAST ONCE go to karaoke. Miles promised me some karaoke when he gets to town, but who knows when that will be or if we will actually hang out. Funny coincidence: all of the people who I have hung out that I know from Vancouver so far are young men who are also drummers.
- Embarrassing admission... I didn't remember Chris' name in the morning. He had entered it into my iphone with his contact info, but i couldn't remember what it was...I handed my phone to him in the morning, and he said, "oh wait, didn't I enter my info last night??" I said that I didn't remember, but still handed it to him to check, because I didn't know what name to look for. I AM AN ASSHOLE.
- I have eczema on my feet. I lknow. It's gross. Maybe too much information. I had finally gotten it under control just before I left for New York, but the humidity here is killing me. TOTALLY GROSS. My feet look disgusting and it's embarrassing. Plus, they are so uncomfortable that I could die. I HATE MY SKIN!!! WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SO SENSITIVE AND GROSS?!?!
The restaurant is now filling up, so maybe I should not be that asshole taking up space with my laptop. Besides, it's 12 and if I want to get some shopping donw before evening, I had better get this show on the road.
Meep.
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