Two months was all it took to realize that forming relationships of any kind up here are perilous. Like the cliched and oft quoted line above Dante's Inferno "Abandon all hope ye who enter here," it is much the same. Bars tend to house the young, clique-ish types who are far more jaded than their twenty three years should allow. At twenty nine years old I have had a revelation that has set me on a path that is rapidly spiraling into what I can only hope may be a less bleak future than the present I feel currently trapped in.
Smiling at someone while you stand next to one another on the subway, hopeful eyes gently appraising one another while locked in the new and exciting should be illegal.
As we speak my friend is en route to my house, too drunk to remember where he lives or give directions to his friends. It is five am after a long shift at work that was one of the most cruel nights I've endured in the borough and I am waiting for a phone call that will tell me whether my friend has safe refuge for the night or not. Or give me insight into whether I will be making a trip to the emergency room for alcohol poisoning.
NYC is tougher than leathery skin that has had way too much exposure from the sun.
I've decided to sit in for the LSAT. If you don't know what that is then you should find out. Not sure when the next test is so we'll see. In the interim I am going to sign up for prep classes. Just to keep my options open. I will commit to nothing, as so many in my past have told me they are incapable of doing. Sad state of life to be in at the age that I am. Words like "I'm sorry" and "I'm not ready for this" have lost any meaning they may have had ascribed to them when they were first forged.
I am tired and waiting for the phone call to tell me what condition my friend is in has left me with an odd realization. We need to change our lives.
Don't listen to Radiohead when you are depressed and contemplative. They mirror too much of the angst and humiliation that you are feeling to be helpful. As much as I may worship them.
The bartender is supposed to cut you off....
The unknown road.
So I received an email today from the Bloomberg campaign. They are apparently very interested in my resume and I have an interview set for Thursday, which doubles as my birthday. Oh how sweetly ironic and fitting that is. However, I am hesitant because I am not sure what position they are interested to bring me in for. I have absolutely no desire to be a canvasser, walking the streets and attempting to find cold voters who might decide to (maybe) vote for him. In addition to that I am not terribly familiar with his politics or political history as I am still very new to the city and have not been studying him for years. So tomorrow is intensive research day where I try to find out as much about his time in office as possible before I walk through the door and get grilled about why I want to work for him. Wish me luck.
Something odd has happened to me recently and in the interest of disclosure I do not plan to elaborate upon it except to construct a very short (and shitty) poem about how I am feeling. Bear with me as I have not written poetry in over a decade, despite that it was once the greatest love of my life.
Gigantic and sinuous proportions fit into a mold
That has shifted into a rotten, damaged shape
Unexpectedly strange and overwhelming
Alienation leading to the construction of a path
Suddenly left in question
No new knowledge comes
But gentle hands serve as tentative guidance
Delicate strokes over gaping wounds
Does not insure a healing
Frayed hope on the lapel of an old mistress
Whose painful lashing is an all too prevalent reminder
That relief is fleeting
and misleading
For one moment
It all feels
As if an easy curve in the world
Can possibly bring comfort
Brief as it may be
Thank you folks. I'll be here all week.
My Body is a Cage.
I am too cut off. I am too afraid. I am too intimidated by other people to drop my guard. I let myself allow very limited access to even my friends. I still do not give them passage to the one way train ride that is me. It is too full of chaos and volatility and I am scared that they may not like me anymore if they see how emotional and intense I can be. Maybe that is how it is meant to be. Maybe you are not supposed to let anyone in. Or maybe that is the conundrum of people in general. Perhaps they are never supposed to get to know you, no matter how many intimate moments you may spend with them. You can laugh, joke, drink, fuck, move, cry, and commiserate but it does not entail closeness. It just gives rise to comradery. And that may be the best one can hope for. That unlooked for stranger that glances at you on the train is probably not going to be the answer. They are more than likely never going to be your friend. But that one moment of connection might be enough. A lock of the eyes that says that you are, for the moment, one and the same. Losing yourself to the sinister neverland that is too brightly lit and highly indicative of the world you’ve chosen may mean finding yourself in the cataclysm of disarray.
Walking through the street, Arcade Fire blaring into my headphones I could not help but ponder the inevitable. Death and instability. Fearing getting into my bed that has it out for me, which I have already fallen out of twice, I stay awake. It is an eight foot climb into my bed and on the night of infamy to my friends I slipped while getting out of it and slammed my face on the radiator, cracking my jaw and leaving a swollen face that lasted for weeks. My bed is determined to kill me. Further proof that it hates me and that this fraction of my life needs to end, because it does not fit me.
Subway ads are repetitive and shout pathetic pictures of second rate movies and bad colleges that no one will even pay attention to.
That guy you pass in the street has a story. He probably lived through the Vietnam War, as the majority of the homeless are vets, and you just walk by without stopping or considering because you get asked too many times to be able to spare change for all of them.
I am not making the transition well. I feel like when I get into a home that is a more comfortable space that feels like mine I will be able to breathe. As it is I feel scattered and discontent. I drink too much and spend too much of my time hiding in my bedroom that never gets cool and sweating out a New York summer that is more intense than any I'd ever experienced in Florida. I am forever walking into every place I go with a sheen of perspiration on my face to a point where the first thing they ask is if I’d like a glass of water. And I’m a Floridian. That’s just sad.
When I hang out with my friends from here and listen to them talk I can barely keep up as they have been here for years and have their day jobs and knowledge of the city that I cannot remotely understand. I try to research New York politics as it is my first love and come up with random sites on the web that yield very little unless I have access to academic databases, which I do not. The news focuses on local stories, which gives me nothing in the way of the inner workings of the political animal of NYC. I'm drowning. None of my friends up here care about the same things I do so I have no resources to tap.
Nights of endless drinking lead to mornings that are mostly afternoons.
I'm missing something. I know it's there it's just not showing itself to me, despite that I keep looking.
I'm lonely. In so many ways. I am tired of coveting. I just want to meet someone I can feel a connection with. Sexual, emotional, intimate, friendship, or otherwise.
I lay awake at night and I see this image, much in the same way that they do in movies in the bad flashback dream sequence that has the horribly cliched muted and blurry scene and I see a person that is not real lying next to me. The other night a dream I had was so intense that I rose between the waking and non-waking world and felt someone squeezing me. I awoke with a gasp, shocked and looking over my shoulder, fully convinced someone had crawled into bed next to me because the sensation was so real.
When I lay in bed and cry now I no longer cry because of the person. I cry because they were the night thief who pillaged my ability to trust others. And I hate him for that. Every person I meet I size up with the constant, lingering question of "How are you going to hurt me?" And it's really unfair. My youth is slipping further and further away from me and I am standing on the precipice, watching it go and knowing I don't get a second chance. When the image fades there is nothing left but blank, white sheets that abandons me with the stark image that I am totally isolated. In every capacity. And that leaves me with a quiet, but resolute, desperation that others can probably see all over my face, the mask that covers the cavernously insane damage that makes my heart the 38th parallel. One of the most dangerous zones in the world. At least in mine.
I don't want to be some project for a guy to rebuild anymore than I want to be someone that they use and leave in the dark. I live in the dark. I don't need more shadows looming over me, making what little moonlight that comes into my world even more menacing.
If this is love I want to treat it the same way I would as the mafia. No affiliation.
I thought the demons that have stalked me for so long might forget me and remain in Tampa but it appears that someone gave them my itinerary to New York and they took a first class flight to follow me. It's unfair. I did much in the way of subterfuge to get here without them knowing. I guess it's true that you can't flee from your feelings.
It is becoming more and more apparent to my friends that I am holding back. They can tell that I am hesitant about everything and scared to death. I am happy that I moved here but feel no closer to answers. PBR and Jager may know me better than anyone but they are not exactly the best networking connections to a bigger life beyond the escape that I need to escape from.
Dickchicken?
Dickchicken is all over the city. Everywhere. So I decided that my next move is to buy a can of spray paint and start a graffiti movement underneath it that says "Tofu Butthole." Inspired by Chris G, of course.
The city has these moments. The doorways of places you would've normally passed melt into drinking passages. Slowly, alluringly, she presents herself to you. She does it in this seductive way. She charms you in with her illustrious and sensual manner. Then she jerks you to reality with her tendency towards the volatile. She can love you and she can despise you. And it always happens in an instant. You have no control.
There is nothing that you can do but give in. And pray...
The new face of my blog is 100% because Dan is amazing. And tomorrow when I don't suck so much I will elaborate.
Oh how nice it would be to feel nothing and get credit for being alive.
Started my new job tonight. It's pretty cool but it is incredibly long hours and as such I am very tired so forgive the briefness of this post. I have actually become so fond of the Greenpoint/Williamsburg area that I'm thinking of moving there provided I can afford it and Dan and I find something available there when the lease is up in October. So I'm excited that my new job is there as that will make life much more convenient for me. I am not, however, allowing myself to become placated in the restaurant industry, owing to the comfortable familiarity that I feel in hospitality. It is my birthday month and I am turning twenty-nine, making the fact that I do not have a career even more frustrating as I draw ever nearer to the big 30. I am still actively pursuing jobs and internships that may parlay into jobs. I'll keep you posted. Pun fully and completely intended. An internship I am desperate coveting with the Baha'i International Community (which is an organization run by my chosen religion) would be a great way for me to make contacts that could steer me towards my career. They do work with the UN regarding international human rights and it is right up my alley. I submit my resume tomorrow so we'll see if they deem me worthy of using the shit out of me for no pay. Oddly enough they can be selective about who they choose to somewhat exploit, even if it does indeed mean they may give them a jumpstart towards their professional career. That's how brutal NY is. Even volunteer jobs are competitive.
I'm pretty sure tomorrow is new tattoo day so if that is the case I'll post a picture after it is done. It's a small one but my next tattoo will be a large one on my right upper arm. That one is going to be a bitch. I should be getting that one in the weeks to come.
I found out that Radiohead leaked their new song tonight and thought I'd post the link for my two readers who care.
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=XXZFVECM
As a weird personal aside, I've become obsessed with Super Furry Animals. They are the most fun electronic, psychedelic, poppy rock band I've encountered in years. If you don't know you should find out. I'm currently stuck on Hey Venus! but just downloaded Outspaced and Dark Days/Light Years. Give them a listen.
I will post more later but am not in a very articulate mood considering I worked for twelve straight hours with no cigarette breaks and an overwhelming amount of new information.
Goodnight kids!
Some fun visual and musical things..
I made it into MoMA but did not get there in enough time to see all of the exhibits but did manage to catch quite a few. The one installation piece being featured presently was grand and poignant. It was called "Waste Not" by Song Dong that chronicles the life's collection of a Chinese woman. You are absolutely blown away by how attached people can become to possessions, both transient and permanent. She saved plastic bottles, grocery bags, shoes. My camera is on the fritz (much to my chagrin) but I lifted some photos from someone else who is more talented at photography than I anyway. This is one of the most relevant pieces I've seen in awhile as it truly shows how collectively immoderate we are as people singularly and holistically. Having switched over to a more conservative and eco friendly lifestyle over two years ago I was already painfully aware of that fact. But here's now a testament of proof.
One woman collected this! Insanity! Cats and dogs! Living together! Mass hysteria! :)
For the Radiohead lovers this was a happy little tasty treat I found on the interwebs of For Orchestra doing an all instrumental version of Reckoner. Let me let you know that it's beautifully done and the accompanying video is VERY cool. Enjoy and you're welcome for having no social life yet.
And a friend posted this beautiful nature video on my MySpace page set to "All I Need." Chilling and exquisite so watch it.
In addition to that there was a recently released compilation album of covers of Mark Mulcahy and Mr. Yorke did "All for the best." It also features Dinosaur Jr. and Frank Black. I've yet to download it but am excited.
Pretty things:
Narcissus, after Caravaggio by Vik Muniz. This piece is particularly special because it's deceptive. One would believe it is a sculpture of some construction but it is a photograph. I love the texture and desperation.
Johannesburg by David Goldblatt. Pretty self-explanatory commentary on urban development and corporate interests. I was struck because this is in Africa, making the social insight much more relevant.
Lake Louise, Canada by Lee Friedlander. I am, always and forever, a sucker for any artwork that expounds and celebrates the wondrous beauty that lies within the natural world. I also love how rough the rocks look, almost fake even, against this stylized and picturesque lake. 
Shibuya, Tokyo by Reagan Louie. I love the visual chaos of this photograph. It makes no sense and yet it is fun and stimulating.
Y.A., M.S.B., Vevey, Switzerland by Nicholas Nixon. I enjoy that this photograph is only vaguely erotic, mostly showing the positioning of the bodies, alluding to faint curves and the intimate pressing together. Their bodies are almost like puzzle pieces. And the muted black and white makes it soft.
Anyway that barely scratches the surface of some of the museums photographic exhibits but seeing as how it is one of my favorite mediums of art I was delighted to get to see their displays in person. These were just a few that touched me.
I'm starving and am on the way out to venture for Vegan food. I have subsequently decided not to go vegan as originally planned owing to the fact that I'd rather take death over cheese but vegan selection up here is pretty incredible. I'll post more stupid stuff only I'm entertained by later.
I sail to the moon. I spoke too soon...
Today NY finally gave me a break. After weeks of tortuous beat down I felt like she hurled me into her more favorable corner after showing me her vitriolic ways. Oh happiest of happy days!
I found a job. Not a proper one that I deeply, truly crave, but a good job. The job I work now is bullshit and insignificant. I am not paid hourly in addition to the fact that I have to tip out my manager, who earns a salary wage unlike me.
This place is a bowling alley/music venue/bar/restaurant in the heart of the trendy, up-and-coming gentrified neighborhood of Williamsburg. Everyone loves to hate this area because it is the congregation point for the hipster revolution and where the mass exodus of scene kids go to that migrate from all areas of the globe, but I adore it. Strolling through this district you get a sense of history that electrifies you. The graffiti scrawled from fifteen years ago when this was a highly Latino dominated spot breathes its way into the hip, white place it has become. Gentrification has two elements that make it evil and glorious at the same time. Allow me to elaborate as I know this is a highly contentious and sensitive subject. The whole scheme of gentrifying a region is for the benefit of the whole. Slowly developing areas next to one another encourages integration as well as progressive urban development, albeit very gradually with a lot of planning and much sacrifice. This is the purpose. In actuality the disastrous side comes with the part where the poor are shunted out of their homes. I can see the bigger pictures but also acknowledge the victims that suffer for it.
I desperately needed a win. I was beginning to feel like this place was kicking my ass. I am so happy to have found a job that will not only supply me with financial security but will enable me to work with people of like mind who share my love of the independent culture I have become so deeply fond of. I am starting to feel like I may be planting some roots. I don't want to get my hopes up too much but I am exhilarated.
After a very disappointing third date with a very promising contender, whereupon I was stood up, I spent a full day completely stewing in the mentality that “Men are all shit, why do I bother with this species?" Today, after finding a gentle happiness in my step, I released some of the demons currently on my payroll. I thought to myself, "If I'm forever carrying this shadow behind me who stalks my everyday moments I'll never allow myself any peace that might lead to opening up and trusting another human being. Why am I wasting my youth and time frivolously wondering what things may have been?" You must, of course, keep in mind that people are guilty until proven innocent as far as your trust is concerned but at some point you must stop making new friends (or whatever) pay for the sins of your past relationships with others. It was with this new illumination that I felt my eyes blaze for the first time in months and that put buoyancy into my resolve that I've not felt for far too long. I spent the evening at Dan's house in the company of his roommates and their friends and found myself finally exorcising the goofy, alive, witty part of me that has been long absent in favor of brooding and silence. I feel like myself again for the first time in a year.
That faint sunlight behind the buildings that obscures the clouds is not only the sunrise, it's the new dawn of a new day of a new life for me. And I'm feeling goooooooood. (Thank you Nina Simone)
----------End transmission------------
2009 BC
So the other day I waited on Chloe Sevigny. She was incredibly nice and a very generous tipper. I've waited on celebrities of Tampa infamy before but this was a totally different experience. I work in a little nothing restaurant that mostly attracts European tourists who are looking for "authentic NY Italian food" that happen to decide to stop while traversing the East Village. It is not a place where the elite go to dine. So I was surprised. It mostly reminded me that there are so many celebrities living here that you'll kind of just run into them. By the way, I hate my job. Which is to be expected, I guess, considering how ready to move on to worlds beyond hospitality that I feel in my gut. My co-worker tonight turned to me, randomly, and said "you are way too smart to be working here." That struck a chord.
It has not yet sunk in that I actually live here because I've yet to have that quintessential NY moment whereupon you realize, once and for all, that you are now a New Yorker. I'm waiting for that moment where the city suddenly looks to me the way it does on film. That moment of recognition where the city of my dreams is suddenly a reality. Maybe it's because I have yet to find my niche. I guess time will tell the story that I cannot.
At work this evening a boy at my table struck me. We started a conversation about religion and music that parlayed into him asking for my phone number and inviting me out for an after work drink. I spent my first night hanging out with a non-Florida friend in the city and thoroughly enjoyed myself. You must be guarded when it comes to dating or making friends anywhere because people are so often not what they wish to portray themselves as, but you must be even more careful here. In a construction of superficiality everyone is presenting themselves to be what they wish they were and not who they actually are. Genuine, in this place, is a rare commodity. So I guard myself with a tenacity that I did not think my hopeful and desperately romantic at heart nature was capable of.
Skyscrapers turn into monsters in the right light
A weekend of debauchery illuminated the need for me to find something more in this town. I got lost on the train. So lost, in fact, that it became a parody that most people would probably write a screenplay about. Mostly to mock those who have no idea where they are going. I spent almost four hours underground, trying to figure out where the hell to go. It was pathetic. We wandered through the snaking world of the underground, transferring from train to train, with the ultimate goal to end up at Central Park. We wanted to drink beers in the park and wander around. We finally made it. It was the most painful excursion I've yet to encounter.
I've never felt so frustrated in my life. When Melinda and I finally hit our stop we ran, exulted, towards the sunlight, happy to be out of the myriad of underground subway traffic. We'd actually proclaimed ourselves the mole people because we'd been underground so long. It was absolutely pathetic. We actually managed to ride half of the trains in Brooklyn and Manhattan because we're retarded fools who paid little attention to where we were going in favor of interesting chatter whereupon we decided to come up with our own language.
It was a glorious and horrible experience all at the same time.
Two straight days of drinking lead me to the realization that while NY is a city of fun it is also a city that can yield very little without the right contacts. I have no job prospects. I spend everyday online responding to ads, praying one of them will guide me to the reason I moved to this hellish and depraved land.
Even Dan is settling here better than me. I feel so jealous of everyone that has found their roots here. I feel like I can't find mine. I feel so lost. I scour Craigslist everyday with no idea what I'm qualified for or what I want to do.
There has to be some hope...
