the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Tag: Marfa

13.11.2011

Combat Baby.

“Said it all before. They try to kick it, their feet fall asleep. I want to be wrong but, no one here wants to fight me like you do.”

Stone cold sober. I smoked my last cigarette, I drank my last shot. I started meds last Tuesday. Nothing too serious, just an annoying skin infection I’ve apparently had for 10 years and had never really dealt with. The time I’ve had it goes to show how mild it is but, like most things, there comes a point when you have to deal with it and, after delaying it for several months (I was diagnosed and prescribed treatment last August), I finally decided to man up and embark on my 6 weeks of sobriety.

I was excited to go to work on Tuesday morning. I knew it would be a busy day and I was looking forward to it keeping my mind off things. Unfortunately, with a big load of work, comes a big load of stress, and with a big load of stress comes a big load of cravings for a damn cigarette! It was a long day. I probably bought every single type of gum and candy I could find to keep my mouth busy. I’ve quit before and I’ve never felt the urge to light up as bad as I have this time. Texts went back in both directions between me and ‘Nickle’. We were fighting the same war but in different fronts. It was somewhat comforting to know I wasn’t the only one, but still a task harder than I imagined.

I got done with work and went home. I had made plans earlier that day with a friend from college to give her two more full packs of cigarettes I had found in my jackets that morning as I was getting ready to leave my place. We were meeting for dinner. My babe biked to my place and we walked to Wild Ginger. I had not seen this girl in a really long time, probably a year, and I had not properly hung out with her since… probably college. It was a great evening. She is effortlessly beautiful inside and out, and one of the easiest people to connect with. I gave her her present, she gave me some advice on not drinking. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, she’s been sober for two years. The evening continued and, as it often happens, there was a point when ‘Nickle’ went to the bathroom and she took the time to say what I always here: he’s great, he’s really nice, we look good together. Again, it never gets old.

Dinner ended and we headed home. No one was drinking so there was really no reason to go to a bar or keep hanging out (how sad). We went home, laid on the couch, and tried to watch Crazy Stupid Love. We were unsuccessful and kept falling asleep so we opted for bed. Once in bed, one kiss led to another and we ended up fooling around. A pair of orgasms later, we were both sound asleep.

Wednesday morning was another early day. It was the first morning in a really (and I cannot stress that enough) long time I woke up completely sober. No morning cigarette. No morning chugging of two bottles of vitamin water to rehydrate. No morning trying to remember what happened the night before. Instead, I was somewhat productive and went to pick up some business cards for my boss right before heading to work. Again, the stress of my day along with the stress of not smoking made my day long and arduous but I made it through. The thought of seeing the boyfriend definitely helped.

After work, we went to a charity auction in SoHo. Free drinks and hors d’oeuvres. I, of course, was sipping water, but I still had fun. I bid on a handwriting analysis, and a few day laters I was notified I won. We didn’t stay for long. We left after about an hour and headed to Mooncake Foods for a proper dinner. Sadly, my sandwich was oozing with onions and, having the pet peeves I have about restaurant food, I went into a fit, I picked through the pieces of fried tofu and left the rest. Regardless, the baby enjoyed his meal so it was all worth it.

We headed back to Brooklyn and made a pit stop at Saint’s Alp for some bubble tea before heading to The Abbey. It was one of the bartenders’ birthday so we stopped for some cake and a shot of champagne. I was a bit delirious because it had been two full days of sobriety and I was stressed and annoyed. My handsome man had been trying his best to be there for me, but still I felt alone and annoyed. A part of me just wanted to lock myself in my room and not come out for 6 weeks. Thinking back on it only makes me rant more, so I’ll stop now… In all fairness, I’m glad my babe stuck around. It significantly helped to not feel I was doing this solo.

We went home and passed out early. Another dull night. Another notch on my advent calendar.

Thursday morning was more of the same. No drinking, no smoking, and work. For the evening, I had plans of going to Elmgreen and Dragset’s play “Happy Days in the Art World” at NYU’s Skirball Center. I met ‘Nickle’ and ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ outside the venue 15 minutes before, and without a cigarette, we walked in. The play was absolutely amazing. Entertaining. Funny. Witty. Challenging. Concise. I’ve always been a fan of their work, but this just made it even better.

Still not being able to drink or smoke, we left and went for some burgers at Stand4 near Union Square. They had a margarita special that I was unable to partake in. I was annoyed and stressed. I painfully downed my salmon burger and sweet potato fries and went home with my papa. Again, he’s been the best sport. We went to bed early.

Friday, ditto. After work, I met ‘Nickle’ and co. for an art show somewhere off Clinton and Grand near the Williamsburg Bridge. Again, drinks were passed right in front of me but this time I decided to have one. I was stressed and annoyed. A glass of cheap gallery white wine was not going to kill me, and if it did, so be it! ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ had invited us to dine with her and one of the people from Marfa who was in town. We said we’d meet her sometime around 9 pm, but plans, of course, never go as planned. Me, ‘Nickle’, and two of his friends ended up at my place where we waited for ‘The Lady of Derbishire’, then at The Abbey, later at Vinnie’s for some pizza, and finally at some bar near Metropolitan and  Union where the spastic cowboy artist was crashing a wedding. He wasn’t really paying much attention to us, and I was still annoyed and tired so I asked to leave. The girls who were with us went home, and ‘Nickle’ suggested we go back to my place. I responded with a “Let’s go back to The Abbey” because I felt like I was boring the shit out of him.

And so we did. And I somewhat regretted it. We stumbled into a really good friend of him who, do not get me wrong, I love! But, he was very drunk and got kicked out of the bar so we took him back to my place. All was fine, I would totally do that for any of my friends, any of his close friends, or anyone who really needed it… but a slight part of me just really wished we had just gone home so I could get lost on my babe’s chest as I fell promptly asleep… regardless, I was glad to lend a helping hand.

Saturday morning my love had the day off, I had to go to work. He spent most of the day running errands around my place. There was a lot of production work to be done at my job and I was busy for most of the day. The cigarette cravings were subsiding. Towards the end of the day, the new boss decided to pull out our old habits and offered to have a drink with the rest of us. I finished my beer and headed out. I wanted to see a movie with ‘Nickle’ but he was uptown drinking at The Seahorse Tavern so I opted to go meet him. I was still annoyed I couldn’t drink and I was a bit worried that everyone was already going to be of their way to alcohol induced amnesia. To my surprise, they absolutely weren’t… or didn’t seem to at least. I ordered a beer and joined in. All was fun and good times till my babe kept insisting for a cigarette. At first I told him not to think about it and just have gum (our substitute for nicotine), but eventually, and I knew exactly when he changed his mind, he came out of the bathroom with a fag in mouth letting me know he was going to smoke it. I insisted I wouldn’t be happy but, of course, he’s his own person and can do whatever. After a slight mental tug-o-war, he decided against smoking. I was very happy yet a bit perturbed. I obviously didn’t want him to have the cigarette, yet at the same time I was being weary of sounding nagging, and I also didn’t want him to resent me for asking him not to. Later that evening, he thanked me, and I was glad to have stuck to my guns.

We had agreed to go to the movies after a drink, but one thing led to another and we ended up at The Abbey. One more beer, one more shot, and then off to Sugarland, because we’d also agreed we wanted to dance. The club was empty. Regardless, we acted like complete fools and jumped and pranced around the empty dance floor to some pretty awful remixes of gay dance classics, and left as soon as it got crowded (about 8 more people than when we started). We went back to The Abbey to see if ‘Nickle’s’ friend was still there and what her plans were. She decided to stay, we had one more round and went to bed.

I started to feel guilty about my drinking. It wasn’t a lot by my standards, but I’m sure anyone would disagree that 4 beers and 3 shots is nothing when you’re not supposed to drink. ‘Nickle’ got a bit emotional as well and in his inebriated state stated he wasn’t going to let me drink or drink with me for the rest of the time I wasn’t supposed to. I took this with a grain of salt knowing we had a future Thanksgiving trip to Chicago to visit his best friend who, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, is also quite the drinker. Never the less, I took his word and reminded him the next morning.

Sunday was my first official weekend day off since I’ve changed my schedule at work. Now I’m doing Tuesday – Saturday so I can have at least one day free together with ‘Nickle’. We were still not drinking and, after the previous two nights where I had decided to ignore the surgeon general’s warnings, I was ready to continue that. I felt a mix of guilt, and physical pain for having so irresponsibly overlooked the doctor’s suggestions.

Continuing my usual Dominical traditions, the babe made us pancakes. Delicious. We later had some sexy time and then took showers. The day started slow, but picked up a bit since we were hosting a sober game night later in the evening. I got a call to go to work to drop off some stuff, so we decided to kill a few birds with one stone and walk with ‘Toto’ across the Williamsburg Bridge  to the Lower East Side,  pick up some Vanessa’s dumplings, stop by my job, and walk back. It was exactly what I’d been needing. ‘Nickle’ had been such a great sport about my drinking conundrum, and I just wanted for him to be happy, and I think the activities of the day helped.

We got back to my place around 6 pm and started making food. People showed up about an hour or two after that. The night, which was completely atypical to say the least, was actually fun. I was very weary about boring my guests and, more importantly, my love, but they were all great sports. Other than ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’, no one drank a drop of alcohol. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ were actually mad at me for having slipped the past few days. To my utmost surprise, ‘Jose Maria’ was completely sober, and ‘Occhio’ and one of my coworkers, who weren’t really getting in tune with the rest of the crew, were sober as well.

At around midnight and after about five rounds of Apples to Apples later they all went home. Me and the bf hit the sack and passed out rather quickly. I think I was starting to get used to falling asleep sans ethanol.

Mondee, without me knowing, would turn out to be my last officially forced sober day. We woke up rather early, and being completely sober and without a hang over, we enjoyed another round of sexy time. I love morning sex and I’m glad ‘Nickle’ does too. There’s no better way to start my days. I received a very early message from ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ to go meet her at school so we could film the last interview of the documentary we’ve been working on. It was a bit last minute but Mondays are my day off so I had no reason not to be able to do so. After cumming, I showered and headed to CUNY. We picked up the equipment needed for filming and took the A train south to Chelsea. We met the people involved with the Marfa project at Hotel Americano somewhere on the high 20’s between 10th and 11th ave.

This time, the interviewees were the artists behind the project. They were unbelievably nice and helpful. The filming went flawless and after we joined them for lunch. I didn’t have to officially work, but I did have to stop by at some point and open the place for other people who needed to be there, so at around quarter to 2 pm, I left 40 bucks on the table, excused myself, and headed to SoHo.

I arrived 5 minutes late, and people were a bit annoyed, but I ignored their moodiness, open the doors, and decided to stay the day and work on personal projects. I updated the blog, and scheduled a few other fun sober nights for me and ‘Nickle’. We are going to see Warhorse on the 15th. I also waited for him to get off work so we could have a quiet night. We were going to cross the Williamsburg bridge together again, rent a movie, and have a night in. I, however, stupidly suggested we go to Beauty and Essex for dinner to have some grilled cheese and tomato soup dumplings that I had heard they served but had never tried. His response to that was happy hour oysters, dumplings, and then a hamburger pizza. A bit gluttonous for my taste, but not something I wouldn’t normally be fine with, except my stomach was killing me. To that point, I’d been having a bunch of side effects from the medicine and was not feeling sexy or in the mood for indulging too much.

He picked me up and we did walk to the oyster bar. Within minutes of getting there he asked if I was OK with him having a beer. I lied and said yes. The reason I say I lied is because, normally, I wouldn’t care, except he had promised a couple nights earlier he wouldn’t drink in solidarity with me, and now he was instantaneously asking for a beer the moment we walked in. I didn’t say anything and just let myself get in a weird mood.

After a few minutes of mentally debating whether I should speak up or not, I finally did. It didn’t create much of a problem but it did put a slight damper on my already psychotic state of mind (it was harder than I thought to quit smoking and drinking at the same time). At the end, I think he did understand my point. We left and went to Beauty and Essex, had a few appetizers, talked a bit more about the night, and worked it all out. The thing I love about us is how vocal we are and how we will talk it out till it’s sorted out.

Sometimes I feel really controlling, crazy, and demanding when I let these things get to me, but I just feel like I shouldn’t need to point them out because, first of all, I am incredibly giving and I do things without others even expecting or suggesting me to do it; and second, because he did promise me something, and to me promises mean so much that sometimes I’d rather people not make them because I hold them in a higher regard than I think most people do.

I snapped out of my mental jam, and became a bit more accommodating to his needs. We left the restaurant and walked over to Rosario’s for his slice of pizza, and then across the bridge. I wasn’t feeling the best stomach wise, but the physical activity helped. We rented “Paris is Burning” on the way home. We didn’t get to watch it, we had food coma and just wanted to go to bed.

Like I mentioned a few paragraphs above, this was my last day of forceful sobriety. It was a tough week. I kind of wish it would’ve lasted longer, yet at the same time, I was glad to have done it, even if it was just for a bit. I was losing my mind and I was taking people down with me and did not feel like continuing to do so. I’m not making excuses for myself, I really didn’t know how hard not drinking was going to be. Maybe one day in the future I’ll give it a second shot? I guess, for the moment, I’m just not as strong as I thought I was.

“Combat baby! Come back baby!  Fight off the lethargy, don’t go quietly. Combat baby! Said you would never give up easy”

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01.11.2011

Stand By Me

“So what’s the matter with you? Sing me something new. Don’t you know the cold and wind and rain don’t know, they only seem to come and go away.”

My week started great. Last Monday, on my day off, I repeated last week’s pattern to a point and met ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ for lunch at the same Korean fast food joint we had met 6 days prior. This time, I was much more relaxed. I hadn’t had my usual anxiety episode with ‘Nickle’ and things were going great.We made plans to meet later that night for couple’s dinner.

After lunch, I walked over to Smythson of Bond Street on 56th and 6th to purchase a 472 dollar Kelly green leather bound notebook for ‘The Cock of the North’. As I’ve mentioned, he’s leaving the city to move back home for health reasons, and me and my coworkers decided to get him something special. I then walked back with ‘Mexican Paddington’ towards his office but first we made a pit stop at Barney’s. I spent a pretty penny on four pairs of socks and was surprised at how my spending habits have changed. I was questioning the price of good design, and could not manage to be as careless as I was before and spend $300 on a shirt. What’s going on with me!? I suppose it’s a good thing, and I think it all has to do with dating ‘Nickle’. He makes me look at things from different perspectives and come up with new convictions.

I left Barneys and took a train towards Chelsea to go look for stuff for my Halloween costume. I got off the A train at Madison Square Garden and decided to walk over to the free clinic and get my usual check up. I had no specific reason to do so other than I wanted to eliminate the window period since last time I got tested so I could be as clean as a whistle for my man. Again, he makes me want to be a better person.

After reading about 30 pages of the book he’d lent me a few months ago, I got my results. Clean as a whistle indeed. I texted him a picture of my bandaged finger and told him the obvious news. I left the clinic and walked to some costume shops on 23rd street and scored more pieces for my ensemble.

Having a few hours to kill, I stopped by the movie theatre near Union Square to watch 50/50. It had been a while since the last time I had been to the movies by myself, and I’d forgotten how good it makes me feel. It is empowering. The movie, despite being great, was unbelievably depressing in so many levels. From the story itself to the production, I found myself getting sadder and sadder. It also made me think a lot about my babe because one drunken night I’d ask him how he felt about terminal diseases and he didn’t take it well. I, of course, do not want that for either of us, but I did think that no matter what, I’m sticking around. After all, I’ve always ended up being a good nurse to those close to me.

I left the theatre and walked to the art store to purchase more accessories for the weekend festivities. I ran into a couple of friends who coincidentally were going to join us for dinner, and told them I’d catch up with them later. As scheduled earlier that day, I met my papa at Urge for a couple of drinks before walking over to Peels.

Dinner was weird. It was really fun to hang out with everyone in different circumstances, last time ‘Nickle’ had met this group of friends it wasn’t the best, and I wanted to change that impression. The food, however, was horrible, and the service was even worse. After staying there long enough to close the place, we all decided never again. It was expensive, and other than the company, it was not something I’d ever want to repeat. The lesbians, ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’, went home to have lesbian time. The boyfriend and I took the rest of the group to Swift for a few more drinks. We didn’t stay much longer. We had a few cigarettes and a few nice talks and left for my place. Bed ensued promptly.

Tuesday, having neglected my house guest the whole time she was here, I started my second day off by having brunch at Five Leaves with ‘Titi’ and then continued to look for the final touches of my last costume. Sadly, thrift store shopping proved futile and managed to disappoint me yet again. Instead, I put my college degree to use and went to the garment district, purchased three yards of tacky stretchy sequined fabric in different colors, and went home to make my outfit. For the parade I’m going to be one of 6 or 7 Richard Simmons hybrids (I’m thinking black face).

Later that evening, I had plans for dinner and a show with the babe. I sewed till the last minute and left my apartment around 7 pm. I met ‘Nickle’ and his friend in Union Square and we walked to Rai Rai Ken for some noodle yumminess. We then walked to Webster Hall, but realizing the show wouldn’t start for another hour, we continued walking to Phoenix for a pre-gig drink. A couple, literally, of ‘Nickle’s’ friends met us there and the night really began.

As mentioned, we had a show to catch so we only stayed for a bit. Then we returned to the venue for the performance. It was fun and funny both at the same time, and the thing I appreciated the most is that my love took the time to plan it out.

Wanting an unnecessary nightcap after the show, we marched to nowhere where we did just that. Have a nightcap. His friends left and we headed to Brooklyn. Another pit stop at The Abbey, another brief anxiety attack, and then we passed out.

Wednesday morning I woke up a bit hung over and spent from the attack. I went to work and had lunch with ‘Titi’ who was leaving later in the evening. My day was going really good, actually, despite my psychological issues, and for some reason shit just kept happening left and right. For instance, I found out that ‘Fixie’s’ man was breaking up with him (again!!), but had forewarned him via email. The man scheduled the break up! Also, ‘Jose Maria’ informed me he might have to move back to Greece in January because he hasn’t been able to find a job. A part of me wants to slap him! I am aware it’s hard, but not impossible, and to be frank, I think he’s just not really trying hard enough. Last but not least, it finally dawned on me that ‘The Cock of the North’ is leaving, and I’m having a slight problem readjusting to my new boss and the work ambiance.

That night I had plans with ‘Fixie’ to get wasted and blur the shit day he was having. ‘Nickle’ had said that he really wanted to see me, even if just for a bit, because he was feeling really good about us. Without a doubt I obliged. Like I mentioned, I was having a good day and I wanted to make it even better. He picked me up at the gallery and we walked to Solas for a few rounds. I hadn’t eaten, so I also ordered delivery whilst at the bar. ‘Fixie’ was going to call me when he was done with his ex and on his way to me. Surprisingly enough, he called me about half hour before expected and I rushed to meet him without any time to eat my freshly delivered food. I had invited ‘Nickle’ but he wanted me to have one on one with my friend, so he said he’d meet later.

We met outside my place to drop off our stuff and headed to The Abbey. We followed the plan we’d deviced and started drinking more and more, shots and beers, at a steady and constant pace. My babe met us after going home for a second and taking care of some personal business. When he got there I was clearly intoxicated. My head started fucking with me and I started having anxiety. What can I say? I really don’t know what to say… wish I knew how to change it (other than the obvious “don’t drink”).

For this instance, my anxiety revolved around being with my boyfriend and one of my best friends, two people who I love, and two people who I feel are way more relationship material than I am. I stupidly started convincing myself that it makes much more sense for ‘Nickle’ to be with someone like ‘Fixie’ who is more sane and can handle relationships better than I can… and it all went downhill from there. We eventually left and, in the confines of my apartment, I made my anxiety attack more public. Again, my babe calmed me down. Again, I felt stupid and feared that he one day will get sick of me. Again, I more and more firmly believe part of the anxiety has to do with a chemical imbalance. Again, I’m confused.

Thursday morning I woke up feeling a bit better. The night had passed, the anxiety was subdued, and after my almost-daily sexy time with my hon, I went to work. Again, he surprised me with plans for a play at BAM that night. He picked me up and, in the midst of a rainy day, we headed to Brooklyn. I was really tired and, although the play was lively and entertaining, I snoozed off a few times. Nevertheless, I was feeling better. I like having dates like this with my boy, dates where all we do is hang out just the two of us and do dinner and a movie, or some other cliche chain of events.

On that note, after the play we walked over to a cute little French restaurant a few blocks away and had a quaint little dinner. Escargot, beet salad, and fish, I believe. I wasn’t in a big plan of drinking because it’s been too tiring and taxing on my anxiety, and I want to keep it under control so that it doesn’t interfere with me and my babe but… I’m an alcoholic, and I’m also in a relationship that was about to turn a month old, so of course drinks ensued. First, we went to a bar a couple of blocks away, then I believe we went home, but we might’ve stopped by The Abbey. I wasn’t drunk, I just can’t remember.

Friday I had a relatively early day. I had to meet with ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ for more filming of the Marfa documentary I’ve been helping her make. This time we interviewed the women in charge of Art Production Fund who sponsored the project. It was, as has the rest of the project been, a unique experience. Both girls were such characters. Their outfits, stark black and designer clad from head to toes, along with their strikingly straight hair, was a nice contrast to their welcoming personality. They were both superbly nice, and completely helpful and enthusiastic about the project, which was surprising considering it’s hard to come across people like that in the art world.

The interview ended at around noon. I called ‘Nickle’ since I was close to his work and met hit at his office where he introduced me to all his coworkers who, as expected, loves him and has heard wonders of me. I’m still not tired of this. We were going to grab lunch, but we didn’t due to lack of time. Instead he drove me to work.

The day went by ridiculously fast. That night, we had plans to meet at the office for some farewell cocktails for ‘The Cock of the North’. Not everyone who should’ve showed up did, but a couple who weren’t necessarily supposed come to came, and it all turned out nice. ‘Nickle’ met up at some point, because he wanted to say a proper goodbye to my boss. They’ve really hit it off right away, and it’s a shame we didn’t get to have more time to hang out ensemble.

I got a bit emotional. I drank myself stupid and reminisced on the days a year ago when I first started working here… Oh how I’ve grown with them.

One by one we all started leaving. I was given the task of making sure everyone left at an appropriate time. Despite being wasted, I believe I did a good job and, at around 11 pm, we were out and on our separate ways. Me and ‘Nickle’ went to The Abbey for a nightcap and then home. Just like a depressingly melancholic feature film, I was the last one to go. I shut the lights off, set off the alarm, and walked our the side door. Me and ‘Nickle’ went to The Abbey for a nightcap and then home.

As with most of my time in this earth, this week proved to be a series of ups and downs, but somehow none of it surprises me anymore. I’ve come to terms with the good and the bad in my daily routines. Yes, anxiety is a big part of my life, and a part that I’ve been dealing with on my own. The scary issue now is opening up and dealing with it with someone who wants to be there for me through the good and the bad. I just need to convince myself that there’s people out there who feel just like me.

“Stand by me, nobody knows the way it’s gonna be.”

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08.10.2011

Home

“Well, hot & heavy, pumpkin pie, chocolate candy, Jesus Christ! There ain’t nothin’ please me more than you”

On my first day as a coupled man, I was beaming and happy and somehow got to work in time. It was gonna be a long day and I was anxious (in a good way) to get it done or at least get it started. Upon arriving at the office, I told ‘The Cock of the North’ I now had a boyfriend. His first response was asking me “who?” and “why?” since I’ve been so adamant about staying single. After I mentioned it was ‘Nickle’, who he’s met, he said: “Congratulations!”. It felt good to hear he approved. I also called ‘Jose Maria’ who gave me an “I know”.

Wednesday night my friend ‘Geordie-Mo’ was coming to town from London and staying with me. Sadly, I also had the work anniversary dinner to attend and I was leaving to film a documentary in Texas the next morning, so I wasn’t going to spend much time with him, but I told him after dinner I’d meet for drinks at “the church” and also introduce him to my new man, who I wanted him to meet, but also I was just looking for excuses to see ‘Nickle’ again.

And thus the plans happened as planned. The coworkers and I met at the office, toasted to some champagne, and headed to dinner at Norwood Club. It was a nice soiree. It went on for slightly longer that I would’ve wanted to, but only because I had other engagements to attend. ‘Nickle’ kept texting me constantly, I believe he was a bit drunk, and at some point he texted me the three little words a lot of people dread: “I Love You”. I excused myself from the dinner table, went to have a cigarette and called him. I told him not to say such things.

*side note: here’s my thing about the “I love you”. I do not mind it at all. I believe that especially in America, it has a stronger meaning than what it should have which was my main reason why I wanted to talk to ‘Nickle’. I have said “I love you” pretty early in a relationship, and although we’ve only been officially dating for a day, we’ve been hanging out for 7 weeks now, so I can understand why he could potentially go there but, like I said, I just want him to be sure he’s saying it because he does, and not because he’s idolizing me or something of the sort, after all, I do have my flaws. The way I see it, I do reciprocate, but the fact that I love him does not mean “I LOVE HIM” in the sense most people tend to think. I love him and I will continue to do so and that love will continue to grow, which I feel is healthier than a loaded “I love you” which has been held back for a while for fear of releasing the meaning we’ve attached to it.*

Back to the story. So yes, I told him not to say that, but I told him I wanted to see him in person later to talk about it. I went back downstairs, had another drink, split the bill with my coworkers, and cabbed it to “the church” where ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Geordie-Mo’ were waiting. I greeted my brit with a huge hug and a kiss. We hung out and caught up over about three drinks, and a few more cigarettes. Even though he was here, the night was pretty standard. We left because I mentioned I wanted to go see ‘Nickle’ so he could meet ‘Geordie-Mo’.

We cabbed it to, where else, The Abbey, where I also greeted my new boyfriend with a huge hug and a wetter kiss. I introduced the respective parties and continued drinking. Anxiety decided to knock on my right temporal lobe’s door. I went into panic mode over the fact that I was now dating someone. I won’t delve into this right now, I want to write an entry about it, but at some point ‘Nickle’ mentioned he could see I was really scared, and I think I shed a couple of tears. We all went home. I went to bed with my man (it feels good to say that), and ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Geordie-Mo’ slept together on the couch.

Thursday my handsome boyfriend left early for work. ‘Jose Maria’ left shortly after. I woke up, finished packing, and headed to Union Square to drop off my dog at a pet hotel and then grabbed a bite at Fatty Snack, the Fatty Crab owned food stand on Madison Square Park. We then walked over to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’s’ apartment to catch a cab to the airport and head to Marfa, Texas. God was I not ready for this.

The Marfa experience was a cluster fuck of desolate West Texas ghost towns, constant fear of desert critters, interesting (and I cannot stress that enough) insane characters, no first world commodities,  run-ins with the border patrol, and one of the most amazing experiences ever all rolled up into one with a scary Texas Chainsaw Massacre-esque vibe.

Let me begin by mentioning how excited I was about this. ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ had mentioned she had a documentary to film as part of her graduating project and had asked if I wanted to join. The subject would be Dragset and Elmgreen’s Prada Marfa installation in the Chihuahua desert, as well as a story on the site representative and artist, Boyd Elder. I’d been obsessed with said installation for a few years now and, realizing it was in the middle of nowhere, figured I wouldn’t make the trip solely to see it unless an opportunity like this presented itself, so I agreed. We’d planned the trip for a while and that Thursday we started the 12 hour long journey that turned into 15 because of all the flight delays.

We got to El Paso quite late. We quickly headed to Walmart, picked up a few indispensable items (wine and cigarettes in my case, food in hers), and started the 3 hour drive to Marfa. It was scary. I’m talking about driving in the middle of a two lane highway with no lights other than the car’s with the occasional eerie sighting of things you can’t quite seem to describe what they are.

Sometime after driving for 2 and a bit hours we saw it. RIght there, in the middle of the road, a bright chartreuse rectangular beacon illuminating the barren landscape. We passed it and stopped, then reversed towards it. It was magical. My first impression tho, I was expecting something bigger, but there’s definitely no denying its striking presence. Obviously, we took a few pictures until we got approached by border patrol (for the second time so far) who asked for our ID’s and after proving our legal right to be in this country, wished us luck on our project.

We drove for another half hour to the town of Marfa where we were to spend the night. The apartment we rented was nice, except for its name and what it entailed: the yellow door. It was aptly decorated by hues of the aforementioned. I hate the color yellow. I drank a bottle of wine and dozed off.

Friday we woke up early and drove to the sight to begin shooting. I was in charge of the more “creative” shots. I had never handled a semi-professional video camera in my life, but somehow, I was surprised how natural it felt. Then I remembered how nifty I am and the surprise fade away. After about an hour of filming, Boyd Elder, the man of the hour, joined us with his mother. First impression: the guy looked insane but right off the bat I liked him. He was very nice and quite the character. His mother, a 90+ year old woman, was the same: incredibly nice and keen, yet she looked scarily aged. He invited us over to their place in the town of Valentine just a couple miles south of Prada Marfa. Again, his house was just like a set of a slasher movie: old, run down, and in the middle of nowhere. I have to make it clear that I am not trying to be demeaning here, to say they were incredibly hospitable is an understatement. I’m just pointing out the shock I experienced due to the contrast of what I’m used to.

We talked for a bit as he gave us a tour of his property. His studio was insane, but the stories were even crazier. This man has had such an amazing life, and the list of names he mentioned as close friends are enough to make any dumb big city socialite stick their head in the ground. The Eagles, Joni Mitchel, Ed Ruscha, Donald Judd, Razorlight, you name it. Old and new. Music and art. Hollywood. New York. Europe. He has it covered, and yet you’d never expect it from looking at him. Never judge a book by its cover has never been more true.

After a few hours we headed back to Marfa to get ready for an art opening at Ballroom Marfa, the nonprofit local art space. One of the things that struck me the most about this town was how even with its population of two thousand, it feels very international. People from all over fly to either of the two closest airports and drive for a couple hours to come to the different events that happen throughout the year. I met a lot of people from New York, and the east coast. I saw a few more that dressed the part so I assumed were also from out of town. We stayed till close and went back to our apartment. Boyd called us and invited us to the after party. We obliged and walked to Capri Lounge, another great old adobe building converted into a spectacular space that marries traditional with modern so seamlessly it almost feels indigenous.

We mingled a bit more, met a few key pieces of the Marfa community, and watched an all girl mariachi band perform. Still tired from the trip we called it an early night. I drank another bottle, ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ conversed with the pillow. I briefly talked to ‘Nickle’ who’d been texting me like crazy all day. He’d been professing all these things to me that to be honest made me more anxious. I don’t know where he’s getting all these strong emotions from, but they’re scary. It feels nice, but almost too nice to where I want to run away. I had anxiety all day, but somehow, the thought of that nightcap made me somewhat hold it together. I talked to ‘Jose Maria’ as well and passed out.

Saturday we had plans for more shooting and at some point in the evening head 2 hours south west to some hot springs. I am not the biggest nature fan, and after hearing from the locals that these hot springs had no phone reception at all, I was a bit more apprehensive about going. Nevertheless, I always give things a shot. We spent the day with Boyd at his studio taking some more video, and driving around his town to other parts of this decaying community of less than 50 people. He took us to an abandoned theatre he plans on restoring and making his new studio. Again, it was very different from what I’m used to so I gladly welcomed the experience. At around 4 pm and after receiving lots of food from his garden, we took off and headed back to Marfa. We interviewed some of the people behind the Ballroom who sponsored the Prada Marfa project. Their house, again, was an amazing restored army barrack who’s original structure was left intact, and was just restored to rival any fancy apartment in New York. It was stunning.

The interview went on for a bit longer than expected, but by around 6:30 pm we were on our way south to Chinati to disconnect from the world even more.

The trip was a pain in the ass. The sun was slowly but surely setting, and we had limited amount of time to get there before we were left again in the dark, except this time it was off road. Unfortunately, the sun beat us and we ended up driving in a very scary dark dirt road for about 45 minutes till we finally found our destination. Naturally, we didn’t go in the hot springs. It was already dark, we were terrified of desert creatures, and there were lots of children around. We just drank wine, chatted a bit and passed out. I tried contacting ‘Nickle’ who was being a bit crazy (by my weird bias I have) but not as much, but was quite unsuccessful because of the lack of signal.

The next morning we woke up and went to the springs for 45 minutes. We had an interview to shoot at around 1pm so we left the “resort” and headed back home. Another run-in with border patrol.

We got back to the apartment and freshened up and headed back out to record the ex-mayor of Marfa talk about the piece. The man was also very nice. It seems like everybody who’s there is there because they truly love the town, and they all seem quite happy. I’m baffled because I think I’d go crazy… then again, they all are significantly older than me.

After the interview he took us to another house he owned that was, just like the house we’d seen the night before, amazingly restored and enviable. I’m beginning to notice a trend here, and maybe a reason why these people love this little shit town so much. Funny thing: you will find a yarn store, but a decent place to eat food in the morning or night? No sir, no way.

We went to the neighbor town of Alpine to buy some DVD’s to burn and dump some of the vast files we’ve amounted, and after doing so, we headed back to Prada. This time we planned on actually interviewing Boyd, but despite being an angel, the man is not the easiest person to work with. That, on top of the fact that we weren’t properly prepared with charged batteries or free memory cards, prevented the interview from actually happening. Instead, we went to the installation site and filmed a time lapse of the sunset. It turned out nice.

At around 8:30 pm, we drove back to Marfa in the pitch of darkness. We cooked the food we planned on grilling the night before at the springs, I drank another bottle of wine, and talked to both ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Nickle’. The former helped me relax a bit, the latter wasn’t being as crazy, which I attribute to him not being as drunk as he sometimes is. I feel like I should talk to him about it, and I probably will. I’m just not sure when because I feel it’d be hypocritical, but I do worry sometimes. Regardless, always happy to talk to him, and despite the massive anxiety I’m getting about him and the trip, I wouldn’t change it. I went to bed with yet another smiley face.

Monday was a long day. We woke up early and, as promised to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’, I made a soyrizo scramble for breakfast. It wasn’t as good as usual, but still better than most the food we’ve been having. We started the day by interviewing the architect of the installation, and then the head of the local newspaper. Nothing really stood out about either, except for maybe the kindness of the first, the nervousness of the second, and the trio of turkeys crossing the road in between both interviews.

As expected, we rushed back to Valentine and the Prada Marfa site. We met up with Boyd and finally got some kind of interview. We then went with him to the theatre he’s restoring to meet with a group of Architecture students from some University in the north of Texas who were doing a project helping restore the site. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ started joking about deciphering the boys’ sexuality. We headed back to Prada, did some more sunset shots, and another interview with Boyd, and then drove him back to where the students were camping. We had a delicious dinner with them. Probably the best food I had the whole time I was in Texas, which is disappointing considering I was expecting gaining a few pounds of amazing Tex-Mex morsels. We drank a couple of beers, saw a baby tarantula, and drove back home. Another bottle of wine, a few episodes of TV shows I’ve been meaning to catch up on, another lovely call to my boyfriend who was sober and going to bed surprisingly early, and I called it a night.

Tuesday all I could think of was going home! Like I said, I had my ups and my downs, definitely an experience I was glad to have had, but not sure it’s necessarily my cup of tea for more than 3 days. This city mouse is ready to leave the country vermin to their own environment and head back to rummaging the New York City Subway tunnels. We did a couple of last minute shots in the morning, one of Boyd’s art at some rich lady’s expectedly beautiful house, and another one of the Chinati foundation and Donald Judd’s sculptures. We stopped by a gift shop, bought a couple of souvenirs, and headed to Valentine to bid adieu to our West Texas friends.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. No waterworks despite the fact that I got surprisingly attached to some of the characters in the documentary.

We drove back to El Paso, had lunch at some awful pseudo-Mexican restaurant, and boarded a flight back to Dallas, and then New York. I am typing this on the latter. It’s almost time to land and I cannot be more excited. I get to see my boyfriend. I get to see my dog. I get to see a decent bar. But above all, I get to come to my own personal haven. I believe that the recent changes in my relationship status have a lot to do with how bad my anxiety has been, but also, the trip drained me. I love traveling and I enjoy my friends but every now and then I like to know I can just go and lock myself in my room if I need a moment to breath. Again, where were my ruby slippers?

“Ahh, Home! Let me come Home! Home is wherever I’m with you.”

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03.10.2011

You Give Me Something

“I was meant to tread the water, now I’ve gotten in too deep. For every piece of me that wants you, another piece backs away.”

Preamble to a pivotal moment.

Friday I worked. Nothing special nothing new. After work I had plans to finally have the toga party I’d been organizing with ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ and then meet ‘Nickle’ at a karaoke bar in China Town for his friend’s birthday. The first part of the evening fell through and the second one wasn’t going to start till much later so I met ‘Jose Maria’ for dinner. We went to BarMarche on Spring and Elizabeth because I’d been wanting to try their famous shrimp risotto. I was disappointed. However, I had a great time as I spent most of it advocating for my behavior and my emotions to ‘Jose Maria’ who was questioning my recent affair with ‘Nickle’.

We left the restaurant, met up with ‘John G’, and walked to China Town to sing some out-of-tune tunes with ‘Nickle’ and co. My future exboyfriend was late, and I wasn’t planning on staying long. I was still in a weird game playing mode, despite not really wanting to. I feel like more than playing games, I’m trying to conserve who I am and not just let myself go completely because I don’t like myself much when I do. I only stayed for a drink after drunken ‘Nickle’ came and I left with my peeps to go meet some of ‘Jose Maria’s’ friends at Boxers in Chelsea.

The bar was horrible. I had never been but I could not find a redeeming quality for it, other than maybe I got to hang out with a questionably straight friend of his friends who I used to think was very good looking till I saw pictures of him all trimmed and proper. Again, we didn’t stay long. A couple of cocktails and awkward moments later we were out the door to meet more of ‘Jose Maria’s’ circle at a different part of town.

The night led us to the appropriately named Hell’s Kitchen to a bar called Industry. Being well aware that said bar was not going to redeem the evening I started drinking more and planning my escape. There is really nothing worthy of telling other than I met a boy who ‘Jose Maria’ likes who I thought was somewhat cute and decided to flirt a bit with him just because, I wasn’t going to do anything at all, just wanted to see what the boy would do. I stepped outside with ‘John G’ and we opted for heading home without saying goodbyes, much like I sometimes do when I’m drunk, bored, and have better plans in mind.

Before heading home, I stopped at ‘The Abbey’ where I naturally ran into ‘Nickle’. I had a couple of drinks with him and we went back to my place. I really enjoy his company more and more every day yet, at the same time, I’m somewhat hypocritically concerned with his drinking habits. I rarely see the man sober, and I’d really like to, yet I don’t feel it’s my place to say so. We sloppily cuddled and passed out.

Saturday morning I met ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ at her school so she could show me some pointers about how to use the equipment we were going to take on an upcoming trip to Marfa, TX to film a short documentary she needs in order to graduate. We showed up at work a bit late and spent most of the slow day planning the rest of our trip and looking for Yankee tickets. I had decided the night before that rain or shine and despite the price I was going to see the Yankees before the season was over. I posted my plans on Facebook and asked in anyone was interested in joining me. One of ‘Nickle’s’ friends wanted to but our schedules didn’t mesh so I ended up buying two tickets for me and a coworker for Sunday evening.

After work I met ‘Jose Maria’ and his friend in the West Village for dinner. We went to a new place called Empellon. The food was a deliciously new take on Mexican. ‘Jose Maria’ had had a crazy night and me and his friend just kept trying to lighten the mood by casually teasing him about it.

When we left the restaurant, we witnessed a guy in his bike get hit by a cab who’d run a red light. The cab driver stupidly tried to argue his way out even though there were about 20 witnesses who clearly saw it was his fault. He then more stupidly took off without waiting for the cops. To be honest, I feel slightly bad for him, but that was a pretty retarded move. I stayed with the accidentee for half hour till the cops came and gave my info in case they needed my statement. ‘Freckles’, who was in town visiting and I’d met earlier in the day, showed up with ‘John G’ wanting to go dancing somewhere in the meat packing. ‘Jose Maria’, his friend, and I were not really in the mood so we tried diverting them to other bars. At some point, the ambiance changed and no one was really feeling it. Everybody was being undeceive and I got annoyed so I bailed on all of them and headed to Brooklyn. I was craving some ‘Nickle’ time. I met him at The Abbey for a few more rounds with his friends. Naturally, we got even more drunk and went home.

Sunday morning I woke up and fooled around with ‘Nickle’ for a brief bit. I rushed to work because I was opening and I was the only one with keys. As usual, I was a bit late but it wasn’t an issue. I had decided to make the day a short one as I had a Yankees game to go to. I spent most of the time training the new intern and wasting time watching youtube videos. We all left at around 6 pm and I headed to the stadium.

I was extremely excited for the game. I had never been to one and although I’m not a huge sports fan, I do love going to games. My coworker added to the excitement because she, as well as everyone around us, is an avid fan. The game, aside from the Yankees losing, did not disappoint me. It went into extra innings and I’d made it a mission to stay till the end. It only took 5 hours.  ‘Jose Maria’ kept texting to meet up, but I didn’t. We left at around 11 and headed back to Brooklyn. Again, I went to The Abbey, met up with my handsome almost boyfriend, and decided to spend the night together. This time, however, we went to his place.

He lives a 10 minute bike ride from my place at a studio on the top floor with an awesome deck. He was a bit apprehensive about taking me there because, as he’s been before, he was a bit insecure about what I’d think. To be honest, I don’t get why. I am far from judgmental, and superficial things are never an issue.

I woke up when he was trying to kiss me goodbye, he offered I could stay and leave whenever as he had to work and I didn’t, but I didn’t feel I should the first night. I took off on my bike and went to see my dog. I spent most of the day running errands and I went to the IFC center to see “Weekend”. ‘Ursa’, the wife of ‘The Cock of the North’, texted me to invite me to go see Oh Land perform later that night but I had made plans with my friend ‘Bellefille’ to have dinner with ‘Jose Maria’, so after the movies I went to meet them a sushi bar in the West Village. I hadn’t see her in a few months so I couldn’t cancel, and I wanted to catch up. Luckily, ‘Ursa’ texted me saying the band wasn’t playing till 10:30 pm so I had time to do both and I told her I’d be there.

After dinner we went for a quick drink to ‘Bellefille’s’ new apartment she’d bought with her husband. The place was incredible, a three story penthouse in NoHo with magnificent views of downtown. We polished a bottle of champagne and I left.

The show was great. I’d seen Oh Land before but never a full set. After it was done I texted a friend from San Diego, ‘Baby’s Arm’, who was in town to come meet me for drinks at Swift on Bowery and 4th where I was going to meet ‘Nickle’. I can’t stop thinking about this man. I want to see him all the time. ‘Jose Maria’ joined as well. We had our first drink, and having to show my friend around we left and walked to The Boiler Room. Again, one drink and out the door we went. The next bar was The Cock, which ‘Baby’s Arm’ favored over the other two. It was getting kind of late and we were all ready for bed so, after another drink and some shots, my friend went back to his hotel and me and ‘Jose Maria’ went to Brooklyn. We stopped by The Abbey for a nightcap and then headed home. I had a massive anxiety attack over ‘Nickle’ and where things were going. As I’ve mentioned, I don’t enjoy losing control, or opening up.

As a somewhat predictable twist of fate, ‘Nickle’ rang my door bell. I slept next to him and somewhat calmed down.

“‘Cause you give me something that makes me scared, alright. This could be nothing but I’m willing to give it a try. Please give me something ’cause someday I might know my heart.”

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