the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Tag: “the church”

17.11.2011

Belong.

“Let me see who you are, don’t try to hide the world that you belong. Let me see who you are, you’re better off where you started from.”

I self medicate. Yes, my go-to cure to my daily anxiety episodes is alcohol. I don’t expect to be understood, we all have our poisons. I do, however, expect not to be judged, because I rarely do so in return.

Tuesday I woke up sober. I was still a bit off from the mental state I was in the prior night. As usual, I felt embarrassed, confused, and stupid. A kiss or ten from my boyfriend helped it go away momentarily. I started to feel better and after going through my usual morning routine, I decided to bike to work.

I jumped on Bat Wing, the nickname ‘Nickle’ has donned for my bicycle, set google music on my phone, and started my morning commute. The weather was perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. An appropriate breeze kept my body temperature at a comfortable point where I wasn’t sweating nor was I cold. I took on the Williamsburg bridge head first and just as I started to feel the burn of the incline on my thighs, Madonna’s “I Love New York” started serenading my eardrums. I went on a state of trance that was only augmented by the fact that the Manhattan skyline looked as beautiful as it’s ever looked under the early November sunlight. “What lactic acid!?” I thought as I kept pedaling. I reached the top of the bridge in a record time and the cruised downhill enjoying some other Madonna hymn until I arrived at my destination.

The day was slow, as it usually is on a Tuesday. I took the time to call my dad and talk to him about my medication and the side effects I’ve been experiencing. Being one who does not believe in over-prescribing or excessively invasive antidotes, he suggested I stop and continue with the rest of the less sever treatment. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do. A part of me wanted to run to the nearest bar and have a cocktail, but another part was glad to be going through such a challenging experience and somewhat succeeding, despite being a mental wreck. I also wanted to continue having ‘Nickle’s’ support because I knew that in the end it would be good for him too.

That night, we had plans to go to Solas for some bar tending event. My boyfriend, however, suggested we skip it since I wasn’t suppose to drink, and instead we go for a quite night. Again, despite craving the sweet numbness alcohol brings, I concluded that if I’d already been a week without drinking (as heavily as I normally do), I could do it one more day. After work, we met at the bottom of the Williamsburg bridge, and biked back together.

Right before getting home, we made a pit stop at a small grocery shop and purchased the necessary ingredients for a home cooked meal. The menu: spinach farfalle with a potpourri of mushrooms and some olive oil, and a salad with a pre-bought balsamic vinaigrette.  No wine. Dinner was followed by Paris is Burning, a documentary about a group of African American and Latino gay men who are part of the late 80’s ball culture in New York City. It was entertaining, inspirational, and educational. I made it through the whole movie without my customary mini doze off and we went to bed promptly after, completely sober.

Wednesday morning I woke up sober, again, but for the last time in a while. I rushed to work because I had a long day ahead. My new boss, ‘BoGo’, who replaced ‘The Cock of the North’, emailed me early morning saying she was running a bit late because she was moving out of her old office and bringing some stuff we “needed” over. I honestly didn’t care, she’s not much help anyway.

**Disclaimer: When I first started this blog I said I wasn’t going to talk shit about people and I was just going to be honest. Brutally honest, that is. I feel like I’ve grown soft. This morning, I’ve been in a very odd mood. I had a very severe and long anxiety moment last night and I am not feeling like I’ve been recently. The old, more caustic me has resurfaced and I’m happy to let him parade around for a second. That being said, I will be brash and unapologetic, and let myself write as I see things trying to remove the filters I’ve been developing lately.**

Back to the topic. I was at work planning for the night’s event with still a very long list of to-do’s. I started early, and started hard. I emailed ‘The Cock of the North’ the night before asking for some guidance in this, my first event completely without his presence. He, of course, came to my aid thoroughly. I was ready for war and I had my armor and my small battalion of three interns (the good, the bad, and the useless) with me. The list of chores was slowly but surely getting accomplished. My dear ‘BoGo’ showed up an hour and a half before the event was to start with a few unnecessary items she deemed important enough to go get from her old office earlier that day instead of helping out. To be honest, I truly believe she is not as competent as she presented herself to be before getting the job, and thus chooses “flight” over “fight” when overwhelmed. More examples to support my allegations will follow in this and the next entries.

I politely acknowledged her presence, but did not take the time to make her feel like I was glad she was there. One of the things I adored about working for ‘The Cock of the North’ was that he had no qualms with doing whatever was necessary to get the job done, from sweeping the floors, to more complex tasks, he did it all, and I respect that. Furthermore, today I rediscovered how hard it is to work for someone you don’t respect.

The event ended up being a success. A lot of familiar faces turned up. Sadly, ‘Nickle’ was stuck in traffic and could not make it, but a few of his friends did, and they congratulated me on my very first soiree sans ‘The Cock of the North’. I felt like all my blood and sweat were worth it.

We left the event a bit after close and I walked with ‘Jose Maria’, ‘The Lady of Derbishire’, ‘Occhio’, and ‘Martha’ (one of ‘Nickle’s’ friends) to Tartinery on Spring and Mulberry. I was texting with my lover about him meeting us there after he dropped off the keys to my place at The Abbey so that my dear friend ‘Geordie-Mo’, who was arriving in to town from London, could pick them up, drop his bags, and meet us all out and about. I am not quite certain when or where things took a turn, but ‘Nickle’ ended up not coming to dinner. Instead, he said he’d meet us after for drinks.

After dinner, we opted to walk to Phoenix because the plan was to meet ‘Geordie-Mo’ at “The Church” once he freshened up at mine. ‘Occhio’ and ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ went home, the rest of us did the fifteen minute trek up to the East Village. Once there, I texted ‘Nickle’ to see his ETA. He called me back right away and said he wasn’t feeling like meeting me and he was in a strange mood. I spent about ten minutes carefully trying to see if I should convince him to come out or not. I wanted to see him, I’ve been in his situation, I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do. I insisted he join us and he did. He showed up a bit drunk and emotional. We had a chat about us and about how he feels like he’s loosing himself. About how he’s scared of where he’s going. All familiar subjects for both of us. Having reached compromise, he went home (or so I thought, apparently he had a few more rounds at Nowhere) and I went to “The Church” with ‘Jose Maria’ to meet up with ‘Geordie-Mo’.

It was nice to be back. I hadn’t been to my old stomping grounds in a while now and I was happy to say hi to the Wednesday night gays. The highlight of the evening, tho, was seeing ‘Geordie-Mo’, who’d just been through a break up and had planned a New York trip to get away from all the things that come when you end a relationship.

That night, I drank more than expected. I got back to my handsome asleep on my full size bed. I kissed him goodnight and dozed off next to him.

Thursday morning was a brand new day. I had told work I was coming in late because “I was going to wait for my friend to get back from the airport” but really I didn’t want to deal with the post-event clean up. ‘Nickle’ went to work, and I went to brunch at The Crosby with ‘Geordie-Mo’ and ‘Jose Maria’. Since I was now allowed to drink again, I ordered a bloody mary to go with my fall vegetable soup. We all started drinking. David Gahan from Depeche Mode sat on the table next to us. We ordered more drinks. I concluded that since I wasn’t going to have much time to spend with my British friend, I should probably take the day off and hang out with him right then and there. I called work and said my friend’s flight was delayed.

We scheduled the rest of our day: The Daphne Guiness exhibit at FIT and more daytime drinking. We finished our meal and skedaddled down spring street to the ACE train and up to 23rd street. Prior to entering the museum, we had an impromptu photo shoot with the autumnal foliage on the streets of New York and acted stupid, but not too stupid. Even though I was glad to be out of work and having fun, I was still in business mode answering emails and phone calls.

The exhibit was everything that I expected from her and more. It didn’t hurt that it was free, but I would’ve payed a pretty penny to be a part of one of my favorite and most inspiring persons in the world’s experience. It was short, it was concise, and again, it was educational.

We left FIT and walked over to Madison Square Park to kill some time. We then walked to Boxers for happy hour but were shit out of luck as the place didn’t open for about another hour. We walked back east to GYM, downed a couple of unejoyably watered down beers, played some pornographic photo hunt, and left to go back to Boxers. This time the bar was open. We weren’t planning on drinking as much but, being early enough for happy hour, every place was two for one. Two Jack and Gingers ensued.

We left at around 7 pm to go back to my place and get some food from The Meatball Shop with ‘Nickle’, his friend, ‘Viquers’ and ‘Fixie’, before going to The Abbey for a nightcap. I wanted my friends to meet my friend with an accent. The bar was alright. To my knowledge, we all had a good time, and to my surprise, both ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Fixie’ showed significant interest in ‘Geordie-Mo’. The surprise did not come from me questioning my dear Briton’s appeal, but from how funny I found their little crush to be. I believe we all left at a reasonable hour and went to our respective after hours. In my case, bed with the babe.

Friday I did show up to work, despite wanting to take another day off. It’s funny how much I used to love going to work, and ever since these new changes have happened I haven’t been as eager. Regardless, I did my full 7 hours exuding my best effort and with a grin on (I try not to smile much).

After work, I met ‘Nickle’ with two of his friends at Solas. We were supposed to meet for dinner but plans changed, as usual, so we had a couple of beers and a few rounds of shots and ended up having a slice instead. We then walked towards Ludlow in the Lower East Side for more drinks with another one of his bartender friends. I wasn’t complaining, I was actually having a really good time. My baby’s friends kept mentioning how changed he seems and how in love he seems to be with me. They pointed out they haven’t seen him like this in the 5+ years they’ve known him, and I started to feel like I was either extremely lucky, or in some sort of Truman Show. I took another shot and just went with it.

We left sometime between 9 and 10 to go back to ‘Nickle’s’ apartment and make a bag for our big weekend trip. He filled his green duffle bag with a few items of clothing (most of his favorite stuff is already permanently stored at my place), and we walked over to my apartment to drop off said bag. We then texted ‘Geordie-Mo’ who had been out and about with his 718 beau so we could confirm the plans we’d made to meet. Eleven-o-clock at Metropolitan.

On our way there, ‘Nickle’ had a severe craving for a cigarette that actually scared me in terms of whether or not I was going to be able to help him resist. Somehow we did, and instead we ended up at Yola’s Cafe for some unnecessary burrito, but I guess it’s better to be fat than cancerous. Again, he thanked me for standing my ground, and I felt reassured for doing so. Sometimes I fear he’s going to resent me one day.

We left the fast food joint and ran into ‘Geordie-Mo’ and company who were also running late. We all walked in to Metro and ordered more drinks. By this point I was so drunk that I stupidly forgot my mission at hand: 718 beau reconnaissance. We finished our beer and left the single boys to their own demise. We walked back home and cleverly thought to stop by The Abbey for the second night cap of the night.

A beer and a shot of whiskey and I was drunk and horny. We didn’t stay long. We had another round of beer and shots and shared a much watered down brew before heading home to sleep but not before having some a-bit-kinkier-than-average time, the details of which shall remain a secret, but do let your imagination run.

The past few days were emotional in a different level. It was the second time that I didn’t feel alone because ‘Nickle’ was actually having some readjusting issues. It is strange how vulnerability makes him sexy. Is it the change of power that excites us? I guess for the moment I am not able to tell… but I will say this: that night I felt closer to my babe than I had felt till that moment.

“I know it’s where you want to go this time, I see you where you are. Don’t fight, you’re about to figure out it’s fine.”

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21.10.2011

After Midnight (pt. 2)

“Hold on as we crash into the earth. A bit of pain will help you suffer when you’re hurt, for real, cause you were driving me crazy.”

The best part about having ‘Nickle’ in my life is how, by default, I wake up in a great mood. I also wake up earlier, and I get more done despite the fact that I’m usually tired by dinner time. It is ironic that I’m saying this because last Monday I took a nap as soon as he left. Regardless, I had a somewhat productive day. I started by doing a much needed tidying up of my apartment. Once that was done, I went into the city and met up with ‘Fixie’ for lunch and costume shopping. We walked all the way from his job on 40th and 8th to the west village where we randomly ran into ‘Mrs. Bancroft’, ‘Nickle’s’ best friend. She screamed my name from across the street as she was having lunch with a friend and we stopped for a couple of beers and some food.

After leaving the restaurant, we walked over to a bar further east off Bleecker where we had two more really cheap beers. We left briefly because we wanted some happy hour whiskey and finally, right before heading home, we stopped at a few costume shops and I managed to find the hat for my outfit.

*Interesting story of the night: for halloween I plan on being Magritte’s “The Son of Man”, but instead of an apple in front of my face, I’ll do a toothbrush mustache. Yes, you guessed it, Hitler. Of course the controversial outfit hasn’t gone without exactly that, controversy. I spotted the perfect military hat at a store near Union Square and asked to see it. The store assistant said: “You want to see the Hitler hat?” I said: “Yes”. It was perfect, so I decided to buy it but, before paying, I was walking around the store wearing it. Another employee asked me if I needed any help. I asked if, since they had a Hitler hat, they might also have the uniform. The older white woman turned completely Nazi on me and said: “No, and if you ask me that again I will have you escorted out of the store!”. I apologized and mentioned that the other store worker had called it by that name. She responded saying: “Who?! no one here would ever do that, and besides, you’re not going to find that uniform anywhere in New York!”. I apologized again and walked away. Five minutes later, she screamed from across the room: “Excuse me! is that your hat?”, I said: “No, but I’m planning on buying it”, she said: “Take it off until you do!”. I did as instructed and waited to swipe my plastic so it could go back up on my head.*

We left the store and headed to The Abbey. More drinks. The boyfriend eventually met me there. More drinks. I am not quite sure how much I drank but I had a severe anxiety attack. I was having a talk with ‘Nickle’ and freaking out about the future. It’s been really difficult for me to be in this relationship because every now and then I fear of not being with him and what that might entail. I’ve been through breakups before and they’re far from fun and, to this day, I had weighed out the pros and the cons and had decided the good times are not worth the bad times that come after. Of course that all changed when I met this one and thus the hard process of letting go and letting myself enjoy this started.

After a few tears shed, he somehow managed to calm me down and we went to bed.

The next morning I felt like shit, of course. I was hungover and unbelievably paranoid and embarrassed. The babe went to work, ‘Fixie’, who’d spent the night, went home. He texted me a few minutes later asking if I could bring him his keys which he’d forgotten at my place. I obliged.

On the train over to Bushwick I had a break down. I stared crying and freaking out about my feelings and being terribly preoccupied that one day ‘Nickle’s’ gonna get sick of putting up with it. Again, Mr. Worst Case Scenario took over. I got off the train and met ‘Fixie’, he could see it in my face that I was not in the right mindset and hugged me. I left and went back to Williamsburg crying, of course.

Upon getting home I had even more anxiety so I went online to watch some Family Guy and try and take my mind off things. I kept compulsively calling ‘Jose Maria’. All I wanted was to get out of my place and cry in his bed all day. He was nowhere to be found. Thankfully, ‘Viquers’ was and, after explaining to her what had happened and how I felt, she suggested I meet her for lunch at the park. I did not think it twice. I left as soon as I needed to and was glad to do so. Before meeting up, I stopped by Barnes and Noble and got my baby a book he’d been wanting. I then walked to 59th and 5th and then to the Ralph Lauren Headquarters, ‘Mexican Paddington’ and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ joined for lunch. I was clearly a mess, my face could not lie.

During our fast food Korean meet up, I felt a bit relieved when all my friends explained that it was normal to freak out. I was still going nuts in my head, but it’s comforting to hear that you’re not the only one. All I kept thinking is I can’t wait till we’re past this and turn into boring Lesbians, except I doubt we’ll be boring.

‘Jose Maria’ finally called, I told him I was coming over. I’ve never been to his place so he for some reason freaked out and started cleaning. The last thing I could care about was how his place looked, all I wanted was to lay down and cry myself to sleep. I walked to his apartment on the UES and started my day of healing. We talked, we ate, we talked some more, I got slapped. He indeed made me feel better because, despite me always teasing him that he has no experience in this because he’s never had a serious relationship, he sometimes come up with the right thing to say.

I left at around 7 pm to go meet ‘Nickle’ at The Seahorse Tavern. I talked to my parents on the way there and told them about my moment. My mom also mentioned things that made me feel better and whilst talking to her I saw my man walking down the street. An automatic smile just arched up on my face. We had a few drinks and then left to go back to SoHo to meet with ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ to celebrate her two new jobs. More drinks at Eight Mile Creek, more drinks at Spring Lounge, more drinks at The Abbey, then bed. I was still a bit on edge but way better than the past 24 hrs.

Wednesday I worked but since I was exhausted I just went home after. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ texted me that they were and The Abbey so I met them for a beer. I explained to them my past two days and they talked some sense into me. I had plans to meet with ‘Jose Maria’ for a drink and did so after my friends went home. I took the train back into the city, freaked out a bit, and saw them at Ten Degrees. I stayed for a few drinks and then walked to The Church. I hadn’t been in a bit and I missed my old church goers. I didn’t stay for long, had two drinks, talked to ‘Handsome Wednesday’ and DJ and walked back to Ten Degrees to meet up with the babe who had been drinking somewhere with ‘Mrs. Bancroft’. Before we even ordered a drink we decided to leave and head back to The Abbey.

Once in Brooklyn, more drinks ensued. Another drunken night, and then we passed out.

Thursday the day started as usual, early morning with ‘Nickle’ and then work. My papa (‘Nickle’s’ pet name) came to pick me up and we headed to a new gay cowboy bar in Hell’s Kitchen to meet up with one of his friend. The bar was annoying and so was the usual HK crowd, a mix of Manhattan gay stereotypes who are often boring and one dimensional. It reminded me why I hardly ever go there. ‘Nickle’ texted me mentioning he was bored, and then he texted ‘Mrs. O’, who lives around the block, to come meet us and the night got better. We got pretty drunk and left for Spring Lounge to meet ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ for her first day at her new job. Again, we didn’t stay for long.

We got back to Brooklyn safe and sound. Once we were inside my building we had a cute moment on the stairs. It reminded me of the song that’s inspired this and the past post. After a brief one on one, we stumbled to my bed and passed out.

Like I’ve stated, it’s been a long, hard process. I am often more of a mess than I need to but, somehow, this man often says the right thing and then all is well for a brief moment. I’m aware relationships take time effort and, for the first time ever, I’m willing to truly put in both. I have the endurance of a fucking Arctic tern and will keep going forever, let’s just hope he does too.

“We’ll stagger home after midnight, sleep arm in arm in the stairwell. We’ll fall apart on the weekend, these nights go on and on and on.”

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11.10.2011

Halo

“Remember those walls I built? Well baby they’re tumbling down.”

All I really wanted was to get out that plane and rush home to my boyfriend. In a surprisingly quick and effortlessly streamlined turn of events, the plane landed, the bags came, the cab was waiting, the traffic was minimal, and I was home faster than I’d expect to be. I texted ‘Nickle’ that I was ready and waiting for him. He showed up 10 minutes after I put my luggage down.

After the romantic movie reconnecting moment we hung out at my apartment for a bit, planned on going out for a drink to The Abbey, but ended up delaying that a bit for some quality sexy time. Drinks came eventually, but only a couple. All I wanted was to sleep next to my handsome and my pup.

Wednesday I had a really long day at work. Not being in for a few days really piles up so despite being tired, I rolled with the punches and worked it out. I was still on my “glad to be back in New York” high so time flew by. I made plans with ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ to grab a very inexpensive bite and some drinks but, of course, I had my own personal agenda: ‘Nickle’, so I managed to butter them up with a beer at my work, and then suggested we go meet my man and his lovely friend before doing whatever it is we were originally going to do.

We walked east down Spring and ended up at Milady’s where ‘Nickle’s’ friends managed to get us absolutely wasted for pennies and dimes. The start of the evening went great. We munched on some fried finger foods and drank and smoked like we usually do. I stepped outside for a second and talked to my friend ‘Chet’ who’s been going through a messy breakup and has been having a hard time dealing with it. I didn’t let him indulge much since his belle is one of my best friends and no one likes hearing negative things about their besties. I told him I had to get back to ‘Nickle’ which was my real reason for hanging up the phone. I just can’t get enough.

We had a few more unnecessary rounds and left. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ went home. I headed with ‘Nickle’ to “the church” to go meet ‘Jose Maria’. From this point on the night gets blurry. Obviously, we kept on drinking. I remember making a point to introduce my man to DJ both to let ‘Nickle’ know I was dead serious about him and to let DJ know the same. We left shortly after and stumbled home.

Thursday was another unbelievably busy day. I felt like a true Mexican doing extensive physical work but, thankfully, the day flew by again. I left work later than usual and met up with ‘Jose Maria’ and a couple of the Greeks to have dinner before meeting a new Facebook friend I’d been meaning to have a drink with. We tried Hecho en Dumbo but due to my time restrictions decided to go across the street to Gemma. Dinner was not the best. I was still all smiles thinking about, who else, my man. We got a table later than I hoped for, ordered drinks and food, and waited a good 40 minutes till I switched to my usual “issues with service” mode and left my friends. It was 10:15 pm, I was meeting my friend at 10:30, and my food was nowhere to be seen. My Greek friends were not too pleased but, again, I was having a fit and there was no stopping me.

I hailed a cab and rode across the bridge and into Brooklyn to end at Metro. I ordered a drink, waited for my friend and smoked a cigarette. He showed up 5 minutes later. It was the first time meeting him in person. I had added this guy on Facebook a few weeks ago when I did one of those stupid Facebook apps that show you people who you have the most in common with and he happened to be, according to Facebook, the one in New York who matched me the best. After a few drinks, some dumplings, and a few cigarettes (on my part), I can see what Facebook meant. He was a writer who had a similar sense of humor and outlook on life. I told him I had to leave and meet my prince charming and so I did. He took the train back to Connecticut.

I stopped at The Abbey for the usual nightcap and my ‘Nickle’ fix. Not sure what he’s doing to me, but I’m clearly addicted. Hugs, kisses, “I love you’s”, and bed time. This crazy stupid Mexican was crazy stupid happy.

Friday was busy, but not as busy. It was nice to catch a break. I was also glad to have one of those nice 6 o’clock wine drinking evenings with ‘The Cock of the North’. It had been a while, but it was well welcomed. I had asked ‘Nickle’ to come with me to my friend’s birthday party around the corner and being the pleasing gentleman he is, he agreed. He met me at work, enjoyed some wine with me and my coworkers, and we walked over to El Portal for a burrito and a quesadilla. I’m trying to satiate him with as much south of the borderness as he can handle. We left the restaurant and met ‘Fixie’ who was also going to the party. Sadly, he’d been recently broken up with and was not in the best of moods. It is not my place to discuss the implications of said break up but all I know is that I’m here to help him in whatever he might need. We’re going to Florida next month.

The party was interesting. I was excited to show off my new man to my old friends but I forgot that the art school and fashion crowd is not always the easiest to swallow. Overall, it was fine, but there were a few moments that weren’t necessary, for example, ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ made a dumb comment on the age difference between me and ‘Nickle’. He’s 11  years my senior and that’s the least of my concerns, but someone thought it was worth putting it out there. Another friend mentioned that our dress style is completely different. Again, who cares?! I forgot, fashion kids do. We didn’t stay for long, the ambiance wasn’t right. I did my round of goodbyes and told ‘Fixie’ to come with us if he wanted to leave. He said he’d catch up later.

We strolled to a bar somewhere on Ludlow where two of his friends were bar tending. Upon arrival, I was greeted with the same excitement I’ve grown accustomed to. Apparently, this man talks wonders of me. It feels good to go places where they’re happy to see you even when they’ve never met you. Consequently, the bar tending girls kept the alcohol flow strong and steady. ‘Fixie’, ‘Mexican Paddington’, and ‘The Queen of the Dammed’ stopped by for one last round and then we all took off. Before heading home I asked if we could go see ‘Jose Maria’ because I’ve been kind of neglecting him. Again, my prince obliged.

We drunkenly walked over to Ten Degrees and saw the Greeks for a split second. We were already wasted.

I was having so much fun that after leaving I wanted to stop for one last round at The Abbey. The moment we stepped through the door people pointed out how drunk we were. I was. I was intoxicated with alcohol and drunk in love. The friendly bartender poured us a night cap and sent us to bed. I have to say that despite my hypocritical bitching about ‘Nickle’ drinking too much sometimes, I had one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time. I love having him as a partner in crime, and I also love that we’ve both agreed that every now and then it’s fine to get stupid.

The weekend was off to a good start. Saturday work. Standard. I spent most of the day gossiping with ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ and training the new intern who sadly happens to not be the brightest crayon in the box (which is ironic because she’s black… I’m not a racist, I just enjoy racist jokes). Come 6 o’clock we opened another bottle of wine and started the evening. My amazing boss and great friend, ‘The Cock of the North’, invited us all to Sweet and Vicious for a drink after work. ‘Nickle’ came to pick me up and we had a couple of strong margaritas. Apparently, during one of my drink fetching rounds my boss mentioned to ‘Nickle’ how happy he was for me. I am telling you, it gets better and better each day.

As planned, we left the bar to go grab a slice of pizza and walk over to a bar on 7th and 2nd for his friend’s birthday (what is up with these women getting pregnant in January!). I experienced the same usual welcome. They uttered the usual “So nice to meet you”, “We’ve never seen ‘Nickle’ this happy”, “You’re very lucky”, all of which I agree. We ordered a couple of drinks, smoked a few cigarettes, and I freaked out briefly when some guy was showing interest in my handsome. I am not a very jealous person at all, but I’m still in disbelief this man, who gets praised everywhere he goes, has picked me out of everyone out there. I am aware that I too am quite the catch, but I’m also aware there are better. Anyway… I constantly try to not over think it and just enjoy my luck.

We left his friends to walk down to The Delancey to meet my friends for another birthday party (seriously… January!). After trying to decipher where they were (the place has multiple stories and they’re not all easily accessible), we finally found them. We were already quite drunk and tired so we only had a couple of whiskey gingers, congratulated the birthday girl, and headed home.

We had a brief talk about my anxiety right around the corner. I love that he’s so understanding and willing to work with me. I suggested that instead of cabbing it, we just walked the Williamsburg bridge. Romantic. We talked and kissed and stopped and talked and kissed and stopped all the way to The Abbey. Again, plastered, we had a nightcap and headed home. Another happily drunken night to remind me to shut up and stop complaining sometimes.

Sunday I had to open. The train wasn’t running so I took a cab to the city. ‘Nickle’ tagged a long and picked up his bike in front of my work. It was a slow day and only me and the intern were going to be there today. Again, the intern proved to be quite useless when I asked here to do very basic computer stuff. I had so much hope for her sassy attitude and willingness to learn, but I think it’d be too time consuming to shape her into something of use. On top of that, I didn’t have the best day. I kept seeing pictures on Facebook of ‘Nickle’, and other friends out and about enjoying the great weather and here I was stuck in my 12 to 7. The only redeeming thought was my movie date later that night.

The plan was to grab a bite and go watch Limelight. ‘Nickle’ didn’t come till 7:30 which was fine except I really wanted to see him and I wanted to get out early. Regardless, my day took a turn for the better the moment I heard the sound of his bike chain clinking as he was locking it outside the theatre. Tickets, sodas, and caramel corn in hand we sat down to watch a mildly entertaining movie. Upon completion, we walked back to his friends’ bar on Ludlow for a few more rounds, and then to The Abbey to meet the usuals. The night was slow and quiet which was very welcomed because the past two nights we’d barely been able to crawl home. As promised, I told him I’d sleep over at his, and I quote him, “Polish palace” because I don’t work on Mondays and he does, plus I really like his place, so we dropped off my stuff, fed ‘Toto’ and walked over to Greenpoint for some sexy time before catching some Z’s.

Monday he woke up and got ready. He offered I could stay and sleep in, but I figured I’d be better getting up and having an early start. I had lots of plans for the day.

I walked with him to the train and decided to head to the city. I wanted to spend more time with him and I needed to buy some stuff for a couples dinner party I had planned that night with ‘The Cock of the North’, his wife, and my boy. Sadly, my boss texted me within minutes of getting off the train apologizing for not being able to make it. I was a bit bummed but had the dinner party anyway with ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’.

I bought some wine glasses and groceries, stopped by work (even though I didn’t have to come in), helped out  a bit, and headed home to prepare for the night. I quickly cleaned, did some laundry, showered, and started preparing food. ‘Nickle’ showed up at 7 pm promptly followed by ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’. I poured them a glass of wine and continued my cooking. At around 8 pm we dined. The menu consisted of different lettuces salad with a balsamic vinaigrette, some garlic french bread, spinach fettucini with fake bolognese, and some bourbon and vanilla ice cream for desert. I stupidly undercooked the pasta and failed to deliver. Everybody was thankful and happy, but the dinner was not up to par with what I consider my guests deserved.

We spent a few hours watching bad TV and my guests parted one by one. I was left with my man, who’s no longer considered a guest. We talked a bit more, I asked him to have a look at my asshole because I felt a bit weird and I’m a hypochondriac, and then we went to bed. Again, he makes me smile all the time.

At around 6 in the morning we both woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. We had another amazing session of sexy time and got ready for the day. We walked around with ‘Toto’ and some morning beverages till we parted ways. He had to work, I had a doctor’s appointment.

I went into the city and to the M.D. for a new patient physical. The doctor, who happens to be ‘Nickle’s’ as well, was amazing. Despite being annoyed that I had to wait over an hour past my scheduled time, I was really glad to see him. I spent about 45 minutes talking to him about all my itty bitty concerns which made me feel better. My ass is perfectly fine. During the visit, I realized how much I’m enjoying this relationship, and how much I need to work on letting myself enjoy it. I left the office relieved and I walked to work. On my way I talked to my parents about the visit and felt reassured that they’re supporting me in all aspects of my life.

Tonight there’s another event. ‘Nickle’ mentioned he’d stop by, and I can’t wait to flaunt him around even more. I truly feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

“I swore I’d never fall again, but this don’t even feel like falling.”

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08.10.2011

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“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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