‘The Cock of the North’ | the.applied.process.

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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07.11.2011

I Was a Prayer

“And I open up like the back of a book. I ruin everything with just a quick look. And I settle down like a rocket explodes, hit the ground, but how far out who knows.”

I guess when it rains, it pours… and when it pours, you end up flooded. That is exactly how I felt on Halloween weekend. Aside from my usual overwhelming string of emotions and thoughts, I had a few more curve balls thrown at me. The first one: whether I wanted to accept it or not, ‘The Cock of the North’ was leaving.

Saturday morning I went to work. I was quite anxious because I had plans of going home right after, getting ready with my babe, and heading to the first Halloween party of the weekend at some loft in DUMBO. Of course after the very emotional Friday night farewell with my boss, I immediately messaged him in the morning and mentioned I wanted to see him and his wife one last time before he left. He responded by suggesting we meet for drinks that night. He insisted I invite ‘Nickle’ which meant a lot to me, because I like that he is happy and supportive of what I have. It was a tight squeeze in my schedule, but I obliged.

The weather was shit. It was the first snow of the season and, as much as I love snow, it was not cute. Wet and slushy everywhere. My handsome met me at work a bit before I’m usually out and we took a cab to the Upper West Side for some wine and some tears. We made it safe and sound. Sadly, his wife couldn’t. She was stuck dealing with the last bits and pieces of their move back to Denmark.

To restate I was emotional is an understatement. The wine didn’t help either. I spent the next hour or so hearing about how much I mean to ‘The Cock of the North’, his wife, and his mother-in-law. As promised, he had two presents for me. Two books: A Hero of Our Time and The Count of Monte Cristo. One of them had a very heartfelt note, but both were chosen specifically for me for various reasons which he didn’t really explain, but I felt they were the right ones.

Unfortunately, I had friends coming over so I had to leave promptly to go wait for them. I cried on the cab ride back.

Once in Brooklyn, we went to The Abbey to pick up ‘Occhio’ and ‘The Wife’ who were going to join in the shenanigans. We did a shot and went home to get into character. More drinks ensued.

After about an hour, Magritte’s Chaplin (me), Buddha (‘Nickle’), the little red ridding hood (‘The Wife’), jailbreak pumpkin (‘Occhio’), and a pineapple (friend of ‘The Wife’) returned to The Abbey. Another round of shots, and then a cramped taxi journey to DUMBO.

By the time we got to the loft party we were all pretty wasted. We met up with ‘Fixie’ and ‘ Viquer’s’ version of Men on Film (who later transformed into Die Antwoord), a jellyfish (‘Mexican Paddington’), a weird “homeless/bowie-esque” unicorn (‘The Queen of the Dammed’), an asparagus, a pair of bats, and some other costumed alchys. The rest of the night gets a bit blurry. I remember fighting with the decorations whilst walking through a slim hallway in search for non existent booze and a toilette; a lot of sloppy pictures being taken; a slight freak out when I lost ‘Nickle’ who, apparently, was the most wasted my friends have ever seen him (to his defense I don’t believe so, but then again, I was pretty done too); oh and, at some point, ‘Nickle’s’ friends showing up.

We all coincidentally decided to leave at the same time. My party made it back to my apartment in separate cabs but safe. We passed out almost instantaneously.

Sunday I had to work. ‘Occhio’, who’d spent the night, was the first one to leave. After putting back on an alternate version of the prior night’s outfit, I followed. ‘Nickle’ and ‘The Wife’ were going to meet me for brunch, but she did her usual disappearing act and left before we could nurse our hangover with a bloody mary. I stopped by work for about an hour and left the intern by herself with the excuse that I had errands to run. Instead, I went to practice my long lost dominical customs and ate some food with the boyfriend. We then walked around for a bit stopping by a candy store to pick up some chocolate body parts to hand out to children on Monday night during the parade. I went back to work, he went off on his own.

I left work and met him at a bar somewhere in Chinatown. He was already tipsy. I ordered a drink, he finished his, and we went to his friend’s art show around the corner. We didn’t stay for long. We left and met ‘Jose Maria’, who’s been very elusive lately, at Ten Degrees. One of ‘Nickle’s’ friends also joined and the four of us got even more drunk. I justified our usual actions with the fact that it was my second to last day before I embarked on my necessary 6 weeks of sobriety. Curve ball number 2.

We cabbed it home with plans of staying at my handsome’s apartment but, one thing led to another and, after a short conversation on my steps, we went back inside my place. Yes, another somewhat repetitive and pointless conversation. It’s not that we both don’t love talking things out but, like I’ve mentioned to him, we can’t be getting drunk to the point where we become nonsensical because we will grow tired of that.

I think that night we fooled around.

On Halloween day, my papa went to work. I watched some TV and cleaned my apartment. I honored the plans I’d made with ‘Jose Maria’ to meet for lunch and did so. We went to Westville East. It was nice to see him one on one and with no booze in our systems. He gave me a much needed bitching about my insane desire to self sabotage, and then came over to my place to help me get ready with my outfit for the night. ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ also joined. We had a few drinks as we turned ourselves into multiple versions of Richard Simmons. ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ also got in the band wagon.

We left to meet ‘Nickle’ and the rest of the party monsters at around 7 pm. We all rendez vous’d at Milady’s for some much needed food and social lubricant. ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ and ‘Occhio’ joined, as did ‘Nickle’ and three of his friends. The night was off to a good start. Shots, nachos, and cigarettes. The last night of debauchery before I started my medication, and we (me and the bf) quit smoking had begun.

We made it to the parade eventually. It was the first time I did it. It was fun but I expected something different. We didn’t last too long. It is hard to manage a large crowd of inebriated drones. We all followed ‘Mrs. Bancroft’ like lemmings to Spring Lounge where we had a few more rounds, waited for ‘Jose Maria’ and other people, and continued partying. We finished next door at Firefly where it was empty (for a reason), and finally decided to go home. ‘Nickle’ rushed to buy his last pack despite the fact that I suggested he shouldn’t because we were quitting the next morning. ‘Fixie’ bought his weight in candy. I, being exhausted from dealing with an unexpected anxiety attack, hailed a cab and took us all back to Brooklyn.

Upon arriving at my place, I got in the shower, washed my face and laid on my mattress shaking. They wanted to stay up longer. I had to work. Eventually, I snapped out of my mini anxiety attack, went outside, took ‘Nickle’ to bed, smoked a cigarette and tried to sleep. Unsuccessful at the task at hand, we got up again, smoked another cigarette with ‘Fixie’, swore off smoking, gave him our packs, and finally went to sleep. Obviously we were drunk and nonsensical.

Halloween was over, and with that so was drinking for 6 weeks, and smoking for good. I was and still am terrified about the repercussions of such commitment, especially while doing it with a significant other. I’m taking it a step at a time, and it’s been hard… but I will delve into that in the next post. For the moment, all I have to say is that, for this year, the last weekend in October proved to be pivotal. It was insightful. It was unexpected. It was exhausting. I’m ready for 2012.

“Had a nice grip on my life ’til you twisted my arm.”

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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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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

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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23.09.2011

Not Drunk Enough

“So I’m gonna get myself another drink whenever I start to think about you ’cause I do what I really don’t want to.”

Tuesday morning I didn’t really give much thought to my post ‘SF boy’ feelings that I might have lingering in my head, I was too excited about ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ coming to the city for the night to care about anything else. I did, however, text him about potentially going to Le Bain that night because I thought he would enjoy it. Guess what?! He never got back to me. I carried on with my day doing a bunch of nothing for the most part, I was feeling restless, anxious, and annoyed. I somewhat needed to go to work earlyish but I didn’t end up leaving my place till the evening for some event we had scheduled.

As soon as I arrived to work, I partook in the free vodka drinks that were being offered by the event organizer. I didn’t really do much other than waste time online and make plans for dinner with ‘Jose Maria’ for a besties dinner since we haven’t spent much time together. I’d also been talking to ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ who was going to her own work dinner, and then meeting up for drinks. I texted ‘Nickle’ about his plans for the night because I wanted him to meet her, and he agreed to meet us after he got off work. Apparently, he had a big project to turn in the next morning and he’d have to be there for a while. I finally coerced ‘Jose Maria’ to trying a Japanese restaurant we’d never been to, Robataya, in the East Village and I left work to walk over.

Dinner was delicious. So delicious that we managed to rack up a very hefty check, drink 4 bottles of sake, and eat enough fish, sea food, veggies, and meat to almost have the staff cut us off (or at least give us a strange look). We finished before I had heard from ‘Nickle’ or ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana”, so we stood outside the place smoking cigarettes and waiting. After 5 minutes she called me half drunk to see where she should meet us. I told her to stay in place and we’d come to her. Girl isn’t the best when she’s intoxicated. ‘Nickle’ mentioned he was about to get out and was about to walk over to wherever we were going. I told him to meet us a Bowery Hotel for a drink and we’d go from there.

We picked up ‘Dandayamana Janushirana’ and walked over to Bowery and 3rd. We ordered a drink, kissed, hugged, gossiped, and waited for my suitor to arrive. As soon as he did, I introduced them, got him a drink, and then my two friends went outside to smoke “a cigarette”, which I took as code for “let’s talk about this man without them around”. I’m sure it wasn’t in a bad way, I’m still interested in knowing what they said, and I’m glad they did so to each other because I like things to be as unbiased as possible. They came back and we left to go to 10 Degrees. We had a few more rounds, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ should’ve probably stopped, ‘Nickle’ should’ve probably drank more to catch up. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ were fine.

The bar hopping continued across the street at a place that’s name I always forget. We had some pickleback shots, and a couple more drinks, and we proceeded to “church” where me and ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ gave a stellar drunken pole dancing performance to an almost empty bar before she almost passed out on the bench which was our cue to leave. We put her in a cab, one of the pious patrons invited ‘Jose Maria’ to karaoke which he accepted, and me and ‘Nickle’ headed to bed. Apparently, I was significantly more inebriated that I am willing to admit because I passed out on the cab, and then passed out again somewhere in my living room, so ‘Nickle’ carried me to bed. What a gent.

Wednesday morning I made it a point to get to work early. I failed. I interviewed a very creepy intern mid day who seemed very smart but a little off. The cherry on top came when she left, walked up the stairs, and I noticed her legs were covered in scratches and bruises. I gossiped with ‘The Cock of the North’ about her for a second, and then ran some personal and work errands. I ended up making plans with ‘Nickle’ and our friend ‘Viquers’ to meet later that night for a drink at Metro.

I got home at around 7:30, quickly walked ‘Toto’, freshened up and headed to the bar. The whole day ‘Latin T’ was texting me to see if I wanted to hang out, I mentioned my plans and he said he’d come meet me. Boy was I not ready for what was about to happen. Apparently, ‘Fixie’ and him went on a very brief Grindr date a few months ago where ‘Latin T’ managed to get himself kicked out of the bar 20 minutes into it. When he arrived, he was a bit drunk (as usual), and I sensed something slightly off about the night. I introduced them all and ‘Latin T’ was a bit apprehensive. I tried to buffer the situation but wasn’t very successful. I hadn’t eaten so I made plans with my two friends to get some noodles, ‘Latin T’ didn’t want to join. Instead, he went home and said he’d meet later to come with me back to the city to meet ‘Jose Maria’ who was having drinks with ‘Tiny Narcissus’ who had just gotten back from Greece.

I apologized to my friends for ‘Latin T’s’ behavior, but I should’ve apologized even further. As soon as he met us again, he made some very rude comments to ‘Fixie’ saying every time he saw him he was making out with someone different. I was shocked by his boldness so I asked what his point was and mentioned I too have kissed half of Williamsburg. He acted defensive. ‘Fixie’ handled the situation magnificently, as he normally does. ‘Latin T’ was being pushy about leaving and continued being rude to my friends. I was about to leave him, when he hailed a cab and we left for the city.

We arrived at 10 Degrees where ‘Jose Maria’ and co. were and waited for ‘Latin T’s’ friend to come meet. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t being an asshole to my other friends. I mentioned to ‘Tiny Narcissus’ that I might be going to Greece with ‘Fixie’ in February. ‘Latin T’ asked me if we were dating. I was getting more and more annoyed. I just said it was non of his business, but no, he’s just a really good friend. ‘Latin T’s’ friend showed up which diverted his attention from me and my friends. For some reason I don’t quite understand well, ‘Latin T’ started crying within 5 minutes of her being there. Apparently she was at a work party where a guy he randomly hooks up with was. I pried a bit more and found out that said guy cheats on his boyfriend with ‘Latin T’. The situation just kept getting messier and trickier by the minute. I was severely confused. I have no idea why he’d have such an issue with ‘Fixie’ and his making out habits or mine, when he’s obviously not the most saintly gay man in New York.

I decided to switch into damage control mode and suggested we go to “church” so I could take him away from my other friends and maybe leave him there. He agreed. As we were walking over I could tell he was more drunk than I’ve ever seen him before, which worried me because I didn’t really want to be associated with him at the bar for fear he’d start something and I’d become guilty by association. As soon as we got to “church” I casually left him to his friend and chatted with the regulars. Two drinks later they wanted food and left me.

I was ready to go home and maybe see ‘Nickle’. I texted ‘Jose Maria’ to come meet me and I started walking his way when I ran into ‘Latin T’ and his friend again. They asked me to have a drink with them at this restaurant they were eating. I obliged and texted ‘Jose Maria’ to meet me there so we could go. Ten minutes later he came and I took a cab as far away from him as I could. He drunkenly texted me asking, and I quote, “where the f r u”. I didn’t reply. I pride myself in being nice and giving people second, third, and fourth chances, but with this one I’m done. He has severe issues and I don’t even think Mother Theresa has the heart to deal with this level of charity of work.

We met a very drunken ‘Nickle’ at The Abbey. Again, not surprised. We didn’t stay long, after we left ‘Jose Maria’ was going to spend the night so we walked back to my place. I started getting an incredibly strong anxiety attack to the point where ‘Jose Maria’ couldn’t calm me down. I wanted to text ‘Nickle’ and tell him I couldn’t deal with him. ‘Jose Maria’ wouldn’t let me. Regardless, I did text him saying I needed to talk to him. Within ten minutes he came over. I calmed down a bit and, instead of talking, he ate my ass, I jacked off, and don’t remember passing out or cumming. Next thing I know he was on the floor sleeping with his head on my boot, and I was on the couch. I pulled out the futon and dragged him to it. He woke up somewhat early and went to work. I woke up a bit later and realized I had dry semen all over my chest and abdomen. Apparently, I did cum. ‘SF boy’ texted me to meet him for lunch before he headed back home but I couldn’t. I took a shower and hurried to work because I really needed to get there soon. I had to interview an intern at noon.

I was a minute late and the intern was waiting. I didn’t have time to catch my breath but the interview went well. She’s a lovely black girl from Brooklyn with no experience in the field, but who seemed sassy and smart enough for us to mold her into a great addition. We hired her on the spot. The day was slow.

I had texted ‘Nickle’ a few times during the day and we had made plans to meet for a long overdue sober dinner where neither of us would drink. He came by my place at 9 pm. Sadly, I tasted whiskey and beer upon our first kiss. He confessed he had a couple drinks prior to coming. I was a bit disappointed and it kind of raised a flag because I’m starting to think that, much like myself, the man might have a slight problem, and as hypocritical as that sounds, I might not want that right now. Still… it is not the right time nor is it my place to bring it up… yet. He took me to Tabare, a restaurant on Driggs and South 1st. He’d never been but I had. Our unsuccessful sober date continued with a bottle of malbec. I decided to give up and just give in to my soothing, anti-anxiety, self prescribed medicine. I mentioned to ‘Nickle’ that it is in fact, not him, but I who has the issues. I can’t control my anxiety too well and all I asked for was that if he wanted to continue getting to know me, we take it slow and be completely honest with each other, and not to freak out when I do. It sat well with him. The man is winning me over little by little.

Half way through dinner ‘Fixie’ texted me to come meet him and his friend at The Abbey for a drink. Again, sober date = total fail. We finished our food and headed over for “just one drink”. Unrealistically, it was not “just one drink” but we did manage to stop after 2 or 3. The Abbey was the usual good times. Lots of familiar faces and cheap booze. We left at around 1 in the morning and walked home to go to bed. This morning, he woke me up with his lips around my lower head, and we jacked off together. He left at around 8:20 and I went back to sleep for a couple of hours. I woke up and took a couple of the homeopathic anxiety pills he had given me the night before. I think they worked. But if they don’t, I always have my whiskey and wine.

“And when I get there, to a place where I see you in a kitchen, I stop wishing but that thing and I don’t need you. I don’t really wanna see you and I don’t want you to see me. You would think that I was crazy,
you might think that I wanna be close to you but I’d rather wanna drink some Whisky and maybe have a little sip ‘o wine ’cause right now it`s the only thing that makes me forget you are mine.”

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18.09.2011

Get Myself Together

“It’s all over like steps in the first snow. Something’s been building up and it’s gonna blow.”

Anxiety.

Friday morning ‘Nickle’ had left before I woke up. He wrote me a note saying he was sorry but he had to go to work. It’s all good, I had to do the same. I got to work a bit late on purpose because I didn’t want to deal with the clean up from the event the night before. The day was uneventful.

I left work at around 7 to go meet ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ for yet another art opening. This time: Andy Warhol at Gagosian on 21st. The show was amazing, to say the least. It was only about his screen prints of Liz Taylor, and ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ and I got inspired for our Halloween costumes. Without giving much away, they are going to be amazing. We ran into ‘Afterline’ who, in his usual way, suggested we go to some “hip” party at the hideous Dream Hotel in Chelsea where James Murphy, of LCD Sound System fame, was DJing. I was hungry and so was she so we told him we’d go eat and meet up later. We left promptly and walked to Blossom on 9th and 21st for some upscale delicious vegan yumminess and to talk about our future trip to Texas.

After dinner we went to Dream hotel for a drink and to wait for ‘Afterline’ and co. I was texting with both ‘Nickle’ and ‘Jose Maria’ to potentially meet either of them if I didn’t end up staying for James Murphy. Three drinks and an amazing conversation later, we decided to leave and I decided to go home. I was tired and I wanted my time alone.

I got home and drank all the open bottles of alcohol I could find. Wine and vodka mostly. I had been getting overwhelmed with the whole ‘Nickle’ situation feeling like I was losing myself and my independence so I wanted to find someone on Grindr, go meet them at Metro, and have a random make out session with a complete stranger to prove to myself that I’m still my own person. Stupid perhaps, but I thought it therapeutic. Sadly, the Grindr boys did not deliver.

Once I had a decent buzz, I took ‘Toto’ for a walk and stupidly strolled in front of The Abbey. I ran into ‘Nickle’ who greeted me with much excitement (as usual). He asked me to stay but I mentioned I was tired and would go to bed soon. He asked if he could come over later, and I, being the nice idiot who never says no, told him to text me when he was going to leave and if I was still up he could. I thought that was a nice compromise although to be honest, I shouldn’t have compromised my night at all. I was a bit annoyed at myself and anxious.

I went back home and continued my quest for some fresh lips to kiss. It was still very unsuccessful. I decided it was time for bed when destiny slapped me in the face and just as I had turned off the lights and plugged my phone to charge, he texted me saying he was coming over if I was still awake. I should’ve not replied, but for some bizarre reason I did. What’s wrong with me!? I turned the lights back on, went on facebook and firmly convinces myself that I was only going to wait ten minutes or two songs’ time, whichever came first, and then I’d really go to bed. Again, just as the second song was about to finish I heard the bell ring. The handsome Floridian had arrived.

I’m not sure if he was expecting more but I told him I was still very tired and would just go to bed. We kissed for a second and cuddled the night away.

Saturday morning we got smoothies and he took a cab with me to work. The trains weren’t running and he needed to get back in the city to pick up his bike. ‘The Cock of the North’ was outside smoking a cigarette when we walked by. We all had a brief conversation and then I went to work and ‘Nickle’ went for his green vehicle. At work I was interrogated whether this man and I were boyfriends. I said no, not me, no way, no sir. I only stayed for a couple hours because I had made plans with ‘The Wife’ to go to Philly so we could then go to Camden, NJ and see our favorite band in the whole world Blink 182. Don’t laugh. I made it to my train just in time and I slept the whole ride west.

While in Philly, we quickly grabbed a bite to eat at some tapas restaurant that was actually surprisingly good, bought a bottle of whiskey, turned it into road sodas, and cabbed it to the venue. We got just in time to see My Chemical Romance open for the boys. I wanted to puke, not because I was drunk, but because of the music and the crowd, so I decided that if I was indeed going to vomit it would be out of too much drinking and went to get another unnecessary drink. We then finagled our way to better seats and waited for our teen idols to perform. I was more drunk than I thought I was and a bit sad because I really wanted to remember the show so I started texting myself the names of the songs so I’d at least know the set list. Somehow, we got even more drunk and did something quite embarrassing that we managed to block out of our memories for the time being. We peed on the bleachers not once but twice!

The show ended and we uselessly tried to get a cab. There were nowhere to be found. Then we tried hitchhiking but I don’t think Jersey people are very fond of New Yorkers or Philadelphians so that proved futile as well. We eventually just went to a bar to let everything die down and wait, but after some quasi sobering food we decided maybe we’d try and walk the bridge. Luckily, we found a cab around the corner, pretended to be whoever the cab driver was supposed to pick up, and stole it. ‘The Wife’ passed out on the way and my pigeon-like sense of direction kicked in so somehow I lead us home. Our plan was to stay up for a while, but again, we were more drunk than we’d like to admit it and by half past midnight we were already in bed.

Sunday we woke up and went for bagels and juice. I was supposed to catch my train at noon, or so I thought. Again, I didn’t have the best luck with cabs because I forget we’re not in New York and we actually have to plan ahead, so I ended up getting to the train station fifteen minutes past my alleged departure. When I tried to change my ticket, the lady pointed out that I was actually 12 hours and 15 minutes late as I was supposed to have left the night before. Silly me. I paid the extra twenty bucks for the next train and left 13 hours afters I was originally supposed to leave.

When I got back to the city, ‘Nickle’ had texted me that he wanted to see me. I reluctantly agreed I would. He suggested we meet by the ferry, take the boat to the city, and bike to the West Village to meet his friend who was about to finish an HIV/AIDS charity bike ride from Boston. Although I still wanted my alone time, this sounded fun so I accepted his invitation. When he rode in to the dock he was looking extremely handsome in his gold bike helmet (which he recently spray painted), aviators, a blue sweater, jeans, and chucks. How can I resist this man?! To add insult to injury, the boat ride was too damn romantic. Again, how can I?

We rode for half hour till we got to 13th and 7th. His friend was just coming in. I started getting really bad anxiety for some reason. I did not feel comfortable. ‘Nickle’ knew a lot of the gays present, which is fine, and is why I like him, because he’s so different from all of them, but there was something about the whole thing that just rubbed me the wrong way. I felt odd and was ready to make an excuse to leave till the damn mind reader suggested we go eat and then meet his friends for drinks. I reluctantly accepted. Again.

Off we went further into the West Village. We ended up at Tortilla Flats for some very mediocre Mexican food. Another one of his friends joined us, this one I really like. We then went next door to some bar for the post race celebration. Again, my anxiety started fucking with me. I was briefly introduced to some of the older more “established” gay men I often try to avoid. There was something going on because I felt so out of my element, I couldn’t socialize with any of these people so I told ‘Nickle’ I would go because I had to meet a friend for some birthday drinks. The friend in question? ‘Latin T’. He offered to come with. I wanted to run away and scream but whatever, the bike ride over the bridge helped calm me down. We dropped our stuff off at my place and meet some of his friends, the ones I actually like, at some bar near my yoga studio. I didn’t stay long, they invited me to karaoke but I said I was going to meet my friend as promised and I’d catch up with them after.

I biked to Union Pool to a ‘Latin T’ surrounded by all female hair stylists. It was a nice time. I had a couple drinks, ate some tacos, bought him a shot, and then tried to stop him from getting into a fight. The man gets crazy when he drinks and has been banned from many a establishments. The altercation as well as some very personal revelations he was making were my cue to leave so I said my goodbyes and biked back to ‘Nickle’ and co. They were at some karaoke bar two blocks away from where I’d left them. I got drunk and sang Miley Cyrus – See You Again. They loved it. We dance and chanted and acted retarded amidst a rain of glitter that ‘Nickle’ had purchased for his biking buddy but had forgotten to give to. Me and ‘Nickle’ stepped outside and had yet another heart to heart. What can I say, he knows what buttons to push. Keep on digging that damn dagger into my chest, handsome, one day you might actually penetrate the concrete cardiac walls and get somewhere. We spent the night ensemble.

“I got, got to get, get my head back on. I got, got to get myself together.”

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16.09.2011

Everybody’s Working for the Weekend

“Everybody’s workin’ for the weekend, everybody wants a new romance. Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end, everybody needs a second chance”.

As I stated, I left DJ’s very excited to finally get a weekend sans boys to catch some breath and spend some time with my other neglected friends. As soon as I got home from the East Village, I got ready for work and biked across the exhausting Williamsburg bridge and into SoHo. I spent the day at work writing on the blog and making plans for future travels with ‘The Lady of Derbishire’. That evening, we left work and went to the Alex Katz opening at Gavin Brown. Openings are somewhat funny to me, just like the fashion industry, the art world is filled with interesting characters and it’s always fun to go to these places and people watch. We stayed for about an hour and then ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ left with a friend for dinner, and I went to one of the Greeks’ apartment to wait for ‘Jose Maria’ and go to dinner ensemble.

The Greeks had decided to try Fatty Crab. It was a Saturday night and we knew that everywhere we went would have a massive wait, so I jokingly suggested Chipotle. My fast food Mexican suggestion got vetoed promptly. I suggested that if we did do Fatty Crab, we try the one in the Upper West Side which is usually pretty relaxed and not crazy busy. I called the restaurant to make sure we’d get a table before we took a cab all the way up there. I was told that at the most we’d wait 20 minutes, so off we went to unfamiliar territories. One of the Greeks joked: “The Upper West Side is the new hip Saturday night spot”. I felt slightly more like a local, having bypassed the usual and tiring spots/neighborhoods for something much nicer, less crowded, and very understated.

As promised, we were seated promptly. Me and ‘Jose Maria’, being the two Fatty Crab veterans, ordered all the dishes for our virgin friend. On the menu: steamed veggie and pork buns, charred squid, the malay fish fry, two of the daily specials (one shrimp, one fish), some meat dish (which I didn’t partake in), and a healthy lesson in what it means to be gay (or really, just yourself) in New York. Dinner was delicious, as always, the conversation went smoothly, not because my poor Greek friend took it well, but because he is sort of a ditz and it all went right over his head. It was like feeding pearls to the swine, but even though I’m a pescatarian, I sill like my bacon.

After dinner I suggested we go to Hell’s Kitchen for some atypical gay bar fun. Next time I suggest such thing, please shoot me. We were absolutely miserable. I forgot why we never go above the 20’s. A drink’s time is as much as we could all handle, so we left and decided to go 180 degrees from there and into The Eagle. Again, it was going from one extreme to the other, one that I much prefer, but still find equally taxing. I don’t like these niche gays and their niche bars. This time, we stayed for twice as long: two drinks.

Looking to redeem the evening we cabbed it to “church” for my third night in a row. One of the Greeks left, ‘Jose Maria’ tagged along. He was outside smoking a cigarette when I went in to sneak a peak. It was a bit too much, and I was already quite tired and drunk so I went back outside and told him I was just going home. He asked me to chaperone him to Boiler Room where he had some unfinished business with two of his suitors. I reluctantly did because I couldn’t find a cab. After dropping him off, I went outside to have a cigarette, look for a taxi, and managed to hop in a car with two people going to Brooklyn. They dropped me off a few blocks away, I gave them 5 dollars, and I walked home to my lovely dog. My much needed time alone had finally come.

Sunday morning I got to work on time, surprisingly. I was blissfully excited all day and counting the nanoseconds till the True Blood season finale that night. I decided to invite people over for a finale party. Right after work I rushed home, cleaned up my somewhat messy apartment and waited for my guests. Only two people showed up (‘Fixie’ and ‘The Cock of the North’s’ wife), which was quite comfortable and nice. We played the second to last episode and sipped on some Red as we ate some deli sandwiches and discussed the season’s highlights. Once 9 pm hit, the room went silent for a somewhat disappointing hour. The episode was not what I expected, regardless we enjoyed it extensively.

After the post finale wrap up, ‘The Cock of the North’s’ wife left. Me and ‘Fixie’ went out for a few drinks at The Woods where one of the Frenchies was having his farewell cocktails. I didn’t really want to go because I rarely have fun and also I knew he’d just broken up with his ex (as expected by every single person who knows them), and I wasn’t in the mood to hear all the bullshit that comes with that. Regardless, a pickleback or two sounded good. After filling our quota we left and walked to The Abbey for a few more rounds. I was expecting to run into ‘Nickle’ who had just gotten back from his weekend wedding trip in Montauk, but he was still in the city with his best friend. Me and ‘Fixie’ were tired and headed back home to rewatch the season finale. He didn’t last long. I stayed up for a bit longer texting with ‘Nickle’ who ended up coming over after he got back to Brooklyn and stopped by The Abbey to say hi to his friend. I suppose my boy free wedding was over.

“You want a piece of my heart? you better start from start. You wanna be in the show? come on baby, let’s go!”

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10.09.2011

Right as Rain

“Who wants to be right as rain it’s better when something is wrong. You get excitement in your bones and everything you do is a game. When night comes and your on your own you can say i chose to be alone. Who wants to be right as rain it’s harder when you’re on top.”

Tuesday night I had a date with ‘Nickle’. We decided to meet at Fatty Crab because it’s one of my favorite restaurants, he’s never been, and it’s such an atypical date spot (very messy, hands-on, stinky southeast Asian cuisine) that I’d been wanting to take someone there. I’d been getting in date mode lately so after a good session of bikram, I showered, dressed up trendy, yet classic with a denim shirt, caramel leather belt, black skinny jeans, and chucks (yes, that’s me actually meticulously dressing up for a purpose), and smoked a cigarette as I waited for him to pick me up at 9pm outside my apartment.

Upon his arrival I noticed he too had taken the time to dig out the cologne from the back of the bathroom cabinet and iron his shirt, which he paired with some fitting blue jeans, and some purposely scuffed brown leather boots. He greeted me with a kiss and stated “I didn’t bring you flowers but I brought you…” as he handed me a bouquet of my personal favorite sour candy. He was aware I preferred sour over any other type of sweets, but not that this specific kind were my Kryptonite. I promptly digitally documented his deed and uploaded it to facebook. We took a train to the meatpacking.

The meal was very pleasant to say the least. The food? delicious, the conversation? effortless, the man? an absolute gentleman. He kept yearningly admiring me with such an honest stare that I felt both marveled at and respectfully undressed. Upon the end of dinner, the cavalier refused to take my card and paid for the more-expensive-than-average check. If I had known, I wouldn’t have ordered that second cocktail. I took this opportunity to suggest we grab a drink after since I felt somewhat in debt. He obliged.

I took my paramour a couple blocks away to Le Bain. To his expected unimpressed eyes, I had us breeze through the crowd and skip the line. Despite admitting to have wondered about it after watching the structure being erect over the highline, he’d never been to the rooftop before. It was the perfect continuation to an ideally perfect evening. We consumed a few libations, discussed New York architecture, and introduced him to a few familiar faces who later jealously congratulated me for my envious catch. We left after two drinks and took the train home. The plan was for the evening to come to a close but we spontaneously decided to get off at 1st ave and walk to Phoenix for the alleged last night it was to be open before its new Lesbian owner turned it into a lezzy irish pub (so the rumor says).

We didn’t stay long either. A drink later we were back on the street walking towards the subway. As a rule of thumb, I try and avoid the trains after 11:30 pm because they can take long enough for my usually inebriated patience to sit and wait. Luckily, that was not the case. We got off at our Brooklyn stop and walked past the bar we usually go to. We ran into a couple of his friends and decided to join for last last call. The boy and the girl aforementioned both took me aside separately and questioned my intentions with their friend. They stated the obvious: he’s a nice guy, he really likes me, they haven’t seen him this happy about someone in a while. I responded in agreement to everything they said: he’s a nice guy and I do enjoy the time we’ve spent together. After a couple more drunken interrogations from his keepers me and ‘Nickle’ parted ways. I had to work. He had to wake up in a couple hours and drive upstate.

Wednesday morning I woke up excited for work. It was the first time in a month that my boss, ‘The Cock of the North’, was back from vacation and I was excited to see him again. The man is more of a friend than an employer. Work went by relatively fast. I went home, did my usual 30 minute post-work duties and headed back to the city for dinner with friends at Buvette in the West Village. Despite all of us being utterly late, we enjoyed the evening. I often fail to notice, but I am pleasantly surprised how I am often the common denominator in these gatherings. All the people there know each other and casually hang out, but originally they met through me.

After dinner I left them and went to my Wednesday midnight mass. The night was methodical: same faces, same routines, same ending. I do not mind it, in fact, it’s part of the reason why I’ve made it part of my weekly schedule.

I ended up at The Cock with DJ & co. and later DJ & I ended up leaving together. Again, somewhat methodical: no sex, no fooling around, just plain cuddling. We did have a very interesting conversation about “out relationship” as he put it. Turns out, we’re both on the same page. I mentioned my date with ‘Nickle’ from the night before and running into ‘Handsome Wednesday’, he mentioned a similar instance with a hurricane Irene date. We teased each other and uttered the word ‘Paranoid’ to one another and went to bed.

Thursday morning I hurried home, took a shower, gossiped a bit with ‘Freckles’ (who’d been staying at my place) about my night with DJ and went to work. The usual.

My plans for the night were reserved for ‘Freckles’. We did yoga together for the first time, took showers, ate some food I made, and met up with ‘John G’ for some cocktails at Metro. I spent most of my evening impolitely talking to friends I ran into, but at the same time, my two add-ons were chatting with each other so I didn’t feel that rude. A long ago hook up, ‘Big Clay’, was there sans boyfriend. We talked for a while as I watched him getting progressively more incoherent. He’s known to be a bit of a lush and a big time drinker. ‘John G’ went home, me, ‘Freckles’, and ‘Big Clay’ left for Union Pool as I had promised her I’d take her somewhere straight so she could forget about her recent fall out with her beau. We ordered more drinks which only aided in making ‘Big Clay’ pretend to be bi for the rest of the night. He continuously kept hitting on ‘Freckles’ and then on me. I have to admit that although I am not attracted to ‘Big Clay’, there is still that feeling of “the one that got away” every time I see him. I know it’s pointless and I don’t encourage it but, for some reason back when I was younger, I really liked him. Maybe it is the fact that I was young and less jaded and fell for anything that would give me head. We decided to call it a night and walk home.

My “been partying for a few years now” self is not as patient as it used to be so despite the fact that I noticed ‘Big Clay’ stumbling his way home I was determined to go to sleep. Being an alcoholic myself I am quite confident in others’ ability to find their way back; ‘Freckles’, on the other hand, didn’t seem as certain and, after watching him ring on two doorbells right next to the bar and squint to try and make up if either of these was his apartment, suggested we take him home. I unwillingly obliged so we hailed a cab and dropped him at the corner of his block. Again, she didn’t believe he could make it so she got out of the cab and walked him home. I am aware of the dangers that come with leaving completely plastered people out to fend for themselves, but sometimes they need it. I finally caught some Z’s well past 4am.

Friday work. Still not being used to people paying for me whilst on a date, I had told ‘Nickle’ I’d take him out tonight my treat. The plan was to end at Momofuku, but he first suggested I meet him at a bar near Astor Place where his friend was working. While I do enjoy all the perks that have come with this new found relationship, I’m beginning to think that he might be a bit too much of a drinker, which would not be a problem, except I am too. And while this is all fun and he’s by no means an aggressive drunk, he sometimes is a bit sloppy. Regardless, I was thirsty and I did as instructed. Anxiety. Four or six drink/shots later, we left his friends and walked to the restaurant. No luck, it was packed. He suggested we walk to a noodle house he said he’d been to before instead and we ended up twirling and twisting ropes of doughy goodness on our chopsticks and into our bellies. Whether he had planned for this or not I am not sure, but my time to pay for dinner ended up being significantly cheaper than his, which I wasn’t too happy about.

We went for a nightcap at Phoenix then, strangely enough, to Ten Degrees. Anxiety. We tried taking the train but it was out of service so we hopped on a yellow cab back to my place. Apparently, I passed out of his lap on the way home. I also lost my phone, which I didn’t realize at the moment, but did so the next morning. We fooled around in my living room not caring that ‘Freckles’ might be coming back from her date any time. I switched to this recent Machiavellian mood that I’ve been having and proceeded to indulge in the idolization I was receiving. After I had my fix, I suggested we go to bed and sleep, and did so almost immediately but not before we fooled around a bit more. I am not certain for how long, but I do remember hearing ‘Freckles’ come home.

The next morning we finished what we had started. I enjoy the fact that this man has a very sexual appetite in the mornings because I usually do too. He started fondling my genitals till I finally woke up from my half asleep state and reciprocated. I came first, he followed. He’s noticeably loud when he does. I giggled at the thought of ‘Freckles’ hearing us not because I mind, but because she might find it funny. We walked our naked asses to the shower and washed away the gunk that covered our abdomens. We all had brunch at a spot a couple blocks away. Right after, he went his own way, and I started my long list of tasks before I left for California later that night.

I’m enjoying these two “relationships” that have sprung up on me. I am treading carefully. I am taking everything and everyone with a grain of salt. I am not letting myself get carried away by the same dumb emotions many seek and let themselves be blinded by. I am proving to myself and others two things: that while LOVE might actually exist, it is harder to find than we’d like to admit, and most of us never truly do find it, so why bother? And also that this whole idea of having to end up with someone in order to have an accomplished life is ridiculously outdated. I refuse to give in.

“Who wants to be riding high when you’ll just crumble back on down. You give up everything you are and even then you don’t get far. They make believe that everything is exactly what it seems, but at least when you’re at your worst you know how to feel things.”

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the.applied.process.

Tag: ‘The Cock of the North’

17.11.2011

Belong.

07.11.2011

I Was a Prayer

01.11.2011

Stand By Me

11.10.2011

Halo

08.10.2011

Home

03.10.2011

You Give Me Something

23.09.2011

Not Drunk Enough

18.09.2011

Get Myself Together

16.09.2011

Everybody’s Working for the Weekend

10.09.2011

Right as Rain