the.applied.process.

wit. honesty. everyday ramblings.

Tag: ‘Titi’

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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23.06.2011

Blind Date #2: Little Tokyo.

It took a ridiculously long time for my next blind date to happen, but on the evening of June 21st, 2011 it finally did! I’m starting to see a correlation here, since this one was set up by a friend of an artist we represent at work, and the previous one was set by the brother of an artist we represent as well. My friends, on the other hand, have proved to be as helpful as a guide dog who’s blind and missing a leg.

I was in Stockholm staying with said artist, and we had just shaved my head and beard. I shaved because I did not want to deal with customs at the US airport stereotyping me for my facial hair. It’s dumb but if I had a krona for every time it’s happened, I’d be a Swedish millionaire. The artist and his friend kept fucking with me about the date. Like I stated, I want to know as little as possible about my suitors. All I knew was his name. Let’s call him… ‘Little Tokyo’. They kept telling me to be careful, not to stare too much when I first see him, and if I was comfortable enough to push him around in his wheel chair. I soon discovered these were all lies.

I walked to the train station we decided we’d meet at. He was running late. I waited. Then I got a text saying he was around the corner. I nervously looked left and right. All of a sudden, a tiny Asian (later I found out Japanese) man with a denim ensemble and a very sad excuse for a ‘stache waved at me. I was relieved. We said hi and walked to a bar close by. It was an upstairs terrace, and when we were going up the stairs, ‘Little Tokyo’ said hi to two Swedish girls. We grabbed a beer, which he paid for, and upon realizing there were no available seats, we ended up sitting with his friends, who I found out worked with him.

It was a bit awkward at first. I had no clue about anything about this man, and his friends being there didn’t really promote a very ‘getting to know you’ environment. However, being the social papillon I am, I quickly had the girls asking one question after the next about my life, which I used to reciprocate and try subtly to find things about this man’s life. I found out he worked in fashion as a men’s wear designer for a not too interesting Swedish brand that’s easily available in America. He was twenty-eight. He had lived in Australia where he met Sweds who enticed him to move to Stockholm. He was soon quitting his job. Overall, he was a nice guy. I am probably more attracted to kitchen knives than I was to him, but as a blind date, he was adequate.

We left the terrace after one drink because they wouldn’t serve us more. We walked downstairs to the bathroom where we said goodbye to his coworkers, and crossed the street to another bar. It was a small, kitchy dive with interesting people that could fit in any given international city I’ve been to. He knew people there as well. We sat with them, but this time we actually talked to each other. We talked about Japan, and I managed to pull out all my Japanese katanas to show off my slight, yet unusual, knowledge of Japanese culture.

As planned, I’d been texting with ‘Titi’ to cue her to come save me if need be. I obviously didn’t feel threatened, but I wouldn’t mind them around, after all, it wasn’t an intimate affair, nor did I want it to turn into one. We finished out drink and went outside to smoke. They met us there and we all walked to another bar. The bar was closed so we went to another one around the corner. I drank at twice the speed they did. The date never really fulfilled itself as a date in an sense. We left after about an hour. I said bye, he asked if I had to go sleep at ‘Mr. A.G.’s’, I said yes. Not sure if this was him asking me to come over, but not in a million years would that happen. Never say never, I know, but this time I’m pretty confident saying so.

Me and the Swedes walked to the train station.’Titi’ took the train home, we walked. We had another drink, and I finished the bottle of champagne I had purchased earlier. We talked a bit about work, I set up my alarm, we went to bed. As expected, I didn’t wake up on time. ‘Mr. A.G.’ woke me up when the cab was outside. Fortunately I was already packed. I thanked him for everything and made it to the airport fine. Off to London. I was tired and ready for one last night in a city that feels like home, and with proper company. Me and ‘The Kid’ had plans.

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23.06.2011

Stockholm.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock saying it was 8:31 a.m. I hit the snooze button and started to doze off when I realized I never changed the time on my clock from GMT to Parisian time. It was actually an hour later. Fuck my plans of carefully packing, taking a shower, and catching a train to Orly, I was an hour late. I briefly thought “fuck it! I can skip my next stop and just go straight to London in a couple days”. I always seem to have this thoughts a couple hours before I have to board a plane/train/bus. I called the concierge and asked for a cab ASAP. I started meticulously shoving everything in my bag, got dressed, and sipped some water, the out the door I went. I was sure I’d forgotten something, but as long as I had my wallet, my iPad, and my passport, everything else is easily replaceable or easily forgettable.

The cab had been waiting for 11€’s worth. Thirty-four more euros later I was at the airport. I checked in with enough time to do absolutely nothing but run to the gate. I boarded the plane and off we went. The flight had a lay over, I had to switch planes at Bergen (which I later discovered was in Norway). My connection was quite pleasant as the next vessel had free mile high wifi. I grindrd 3000 feet above ground, but of course there was no one. Norwegian Air had employed an all female flight attendant team.

I landed at Arlanda at about 15h and texted my friend ‘Thunder’. She was gonna be busy for another two hours so I said I’d waste time at the airport. I got some nasty pizza, wrote on the blog, facebook’d, and grindr’d, of course. At 5 pm I got on the express train to Stockholm city. As instructed, I then took the metro to my friend’s stop where she’d be waiting for my arrival. We walked a few blocks to her place and started our very lovely evening. We drank wine, smoked cigarettes and caught up. She made some lentils for dinner, we had some more wine, and smoked some more cigarettes. I told her about the blog. She suggested I read her an entry, and she’d play me a song. She is an unbelievably talented musician. I’m not being biased here, I’m just being honest. She also speaks 4+ languages (I forget the exact number), and she’s very bright, and well traveled. But enough about her good attributes here, she’s not perfect. For instance, she doesn’t own an iPod or any sort of mac product, and she’s not on Facebook. Ha.

The night was almost perfect. It was exactly what I needed (except for the iPod situation. I, of course, had forgotten to pack my charger and had left it in Paris and my worldwide web addiction was cursing my forgetful self for depriving me of a fully charged iPad). I don’t see her that often, we write emails every now and then, but due to her credo, I am not constantly updated of her life through Facebook, nor is she of mine. She didn’t know I had a massive beard. I didn’t know she was moving to the south of Sweden.

I like the connection we have. She understands to some degree my fucked up world view, and I understand hers. More wine. More cigarettes. Bed.

The next morning we had a quick breakfast, I finalized my plans with my other Svensk friends, updated my blog, and left her apartment. It was refreshingly nice to see her and even more refreshingly nice to spend some time in ‘medieval’ (as she put it) Sweden, with no sight of iPods, and no Facebook. It’s easy to forget how dependent and attached we are to these things.

I met up with ‘Titi’ at the train station. We walked over to ‘Mr. American Gothic’s’ “if I lived in Sweden I’d want to live in a place like this” penthouse apartment. It was really nice to see both of them again, especially since last time it was under work conditions, and this time it was just for fun. And fun it was. We chit chatted a bit and promptly left his apartment for some sushi in the park and drinks. Sadly, the weather, which I was loving, was not conventionally favourable for lunch at the park, so we went back to his’ and ate and drank there.

We decided we’d go shopping. They took me to a department store where I scored a pair of Thom Browne swim trunks. We made several pit stops along the day at different bars to refuel our buzz. It reminded me of our time in New York.

We walked back to his, and drank some more. They played card games, I fed my social networking addiction. It was time for bed and so me and ‘Titi’ left to her apartment, as it was decided by them I should do. Her apartment was not too far just across the ‘river’ (sea). They kept correcting me when I referred to the large bodies of water as rivers since, apparently, unlike most other European cities, Stockholm lacks rivers.

Unlike the previous night, this one was far from pleasant. It had nothing to do with my hosts. I barely slept two hours. I had a few crippling anxiety attacks. Nothing unusual, of course, but they’re never fun.

The next day I somehow managed to lift open my eyelids despite how tired I was. Me and ‘Titi’ had a typical Swedish breakfast, as I was quickly learning this was what Sweds usually have before noon. We made plans with ‘Mr. A.G.’ to maybe go to Fotografiska (the photo museum) to watch a Robert Mapplethorpe exhibit. We were late. We took a boat to the other side of this river/sea that divided their respective apartments. We briefly stopped at a couple local stores. We finally got to ‘Mr. A.G.’s’. More drinks. No museum. Instead, I’d decided I wanted to shave my beard and make a video out of it. We walked across the street to buy some clippers, and then a few blocks away to buy alcohol. Champagne bottle in one had, cigarettes in the other, and shirtless I was ready to be rid of my hair. ‘Mr. A.G.’ wore a leather blazes as he shaved my hair. I’ll eventually post the video online. I’m sure a few cliche gay men will wet themselves over it. I showered and nervously headed to a blind date ‘Titi’ had set up for me.

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10.04.2011

vraiment VERMONT!

Part of what I enjoy about my job is the random things I have to do sometimes. Case in point, my visit to Vermont. When my boss emailed asking who would want to do it, I was a bit hesitant. As I said, I had been ill for a week and really needed to rest and take care of myself, not to mention the fact that I was going to the LCD sound system show the night before and I was sure I wasn’t going to get much sleep before the 4 hour drive up the I-87 N… but then again, I enjoy getting shit done (and I was quite certain no one else would), and I figured that other than this, why else would I go to Vermont?! Surely not to take advantage of gay marriage.

So I woke my ass up, managed to put some pants on, leashed my dog, and stumbled my way to the local coffee/smoothie shop for a hang over friendly liquid concoction and a bagel. Then I met up with my road trip buddy (btw I’m avoiding names in all of my posts on purpose) who was waiting outside my building, and we cabbed it to the U-Haul place by the navy yard.

I have to admit, my stomach was killing me. I wanted to puke. The smoothie wanted to creep out of me any way possible (and it did at the U-Haul center bathroom… guilty). We hopped on the van and started our way. Me and my road trip buddy, who we shall call Titi, didn’t really know each other, but I’m quite confident in my easy goingness so after a few minutes we were chit chatting about this, and about that, freaking out about the road (we weren’t legally allowed to be on anything labeled “parkway”), singing along to bad music (mostly 90’s bad exercise tunes), and just having a jolly good time (like road trips should be!).

We made a couple of pit stops delighting ourselves in pure, uninhibited Americana. I ate some chain fast food fried grossness (not the best for my ailing intestines), drank about enough redbull to kill a small ferret, and chewed on enough pepto bismol tablets to permanently lacquer my duodenum in pink. The road was beautiful. Quite different from California (where I’ve partaken in plenty a road trips). Read the rest of this entry »

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