oh, sweet. i can see SLAVVE and JIIIIIM all in ONE NIGHT. BITCHIN'.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
I MOVED
Ah, moving. It is
never not stressful, but sometimes it can be stressful and exciting. The degree of excitement lies within the
circumstance. Perhaps you are ready for a change and are switching apartments
purely of your own volition. Or, conversely, you are moving because you have no
choice but to move. I found myself on
the latter end of this spectrum a couple months ago when my then-roommate and I
found out that our landlord was planning on selling our apartment, leaving us
no choice but to find a new place to live. It was then that the dread of
finding a place to live in New York City hit me for the first time. All I wanted
was something comfortable. Judging from how hard it had been to achieve the
level of comfort I’d had at the apartment I’d been living in, I thought I’d
never find that comfort again.
I had a couple of
leads that fell through. I had a nervous breakdown about it at work and cried,
cried, cried. I resorted to combing Craigslist, where I would try to find an
apartment that I would share with the least-freaky freaks I could find.
Everybody is a freak on Craigslist. They are either prudish neat freaks or
slovenly weird freaks. I resigned myself to the fact that I was doomed.
But thank god for the
internet and thank god for my boyfriend, who sent smoke signals out over the
internet that were seen by Maud, a coworker of mine who needed to move by April
1st as well. We now have a super rad apartment RIGHT NEAR THA L TRAIN.
As soon as the deal was sealed, I finally started feeling super excited about
my move and super over my old apartment. As I packed all my shit into a
thousand banker’s boxes, all I could think about was what I hated about it and
how I couldn’t wait to leave. When I finally got all my shit out of there and
was taking one last look at the place, I could only think about the things that
I loved about living there. I made a list. Let’s start with the things I hated.
PART ONE: THE BAD
1. THERE IS NOTHING
AROUND THERE
Except Family Dollar.
Fuck those people who robbed the old Silent Barn because that was the only
worthwhile shit within walking distance of my house. Since moving to Ridgewood,
my mood has improved about 10,000 percent. There are STORES and FOOD TRUCKS and
PEOPLE walking around. If I want to go to brunch, I can take a nice walk down
Wyckoff Avenue to Café Ghia. Shit, there’s even a 24-hour McDonald’s if you’re
into that. Which I am, but only while intoxicated.
2. THEY GOT RID OF
THE BAT CAVE
What the fuck, y’all?
I don’t know what this used to be- I am assuming it was some sort of bar. One
day I was walking down the street and was very disturbed to find that somebody
had painted over the sign, which was one of my favorite idiosyncrasies of the
neighborhood. Why had I never bothered to take a picture of it to show my
future children!? Oh well. Some person from the internet did it for me. Thank
god for Google Images.
Anyway. The space of
the former Bat Cave has been empty ever since the sign was painted over. I can
only hope that they are doing some work inside to make it into another bar
because as I said before there is nothing around that neighborhood except for
Family Dollar.
3. MY SHITTY NEIGHBOR
DID PULL-UPS IN THE HALL
At first, I was
indifferent to the pull-up bar that my neighbor had installed in the doorway of
his apartment. Whatever. That’s kind of weird and bro-y but okay if you’re into
that then who am I to be a hater. But the more I thought about it, the more I
was like, dude, why don’t you join a gym? You own the apartment. Surely you can
afford a gym membership? Everybody who visited my apartment commented on and
would make fun of the pull-up bar. The ridiculousness of it became fully
apparent to me when I realized that my neighbor seemed to think that since he
owned the apartment he owned the hallway, too. Every day there was at least one
of the following clustered outside his door: sneakers and/or boots (at least
two pairs), glass/plastic recycling, cardboard recycling, a tub of car litter,
and a bike pump. JESUS. Can we say FIRE HAZARD? However, all that pales in
comparison to what came next.
One day I was
relaxing as much as one can relax while reclining on the least expensive couch
available at Target. I heard the door to my neighbor’s house open. He was
blasting Lana del Rey really, really loud. That wasn’t my problem. My problem
began when I realized he was doing pull-ups. At first, all I could hear was
heavier breathing, work-out breathing, if you will. He went inside for two
minutes. Then he came back out and resumed doing pull-ups. This occurred
several more times. The breathing turned into grunting. The grunting turned
into... I DON’T EVEN KNOW. All I know was that it was LOUD and gross. Lana del
Rey singing “Blue Jeans” in the background made it even worse. Yeah, I get it,
dude. You’re a sensitive guy who is still manly. That’s great. Now get out of
my freakin’ hallway. Because, believe it or not, OTHER PEOPLE LIVE HERE and
they don’t want to be hearing your work-out sounds while trying to read/write
on their Target sofas.
4. IT WAS TOO EXPENSIVE
AND THE HEAT WAS ALWAYS BUSTED
Actually, that’s not
quite true. The heat was working when our evil landlord decided that he wanted
to sell the apartment. As rich people spun through our apartment with a real
estate broker with a Louis bag and Restylane-filled lips (that was way harsh,
Tai), our apartment was nice and toasty. My room was always very drafty no
matter what, though. It was the one huge drawback from having the room with
windows.
5. THE LANDLORD NEVER
CALLED ME BACK
Even when some jackass
broke my toilet while we were throwing a party. Come fix my shit, this is
serious business! It sucked to be ignored all the time. I guess the thing that
bummed me out the most about the apartment was the bad vibes I got from the
management company. True, our apartment was nice and not-falling-apart, and I
was thankful for that considering my previous two apartments. But there is
something very depressing about living somewhere that belongs to a man who is
never in his office, who doesn’t care, who doesn’t like women. A man who pulls
the rug out from under you! Evil, evil man. Good riddance.
***
Well, that was the
bad. I always think of the bad before I think of the good whenever I move. It’s easier to
think of the bad, to focus on the things that you didn’t like in order to like
another apartment better. That brings me to the next part of this post:
PART TWO: WHAT I
LOVED
my old room
I won’t go into much
detail, because it was nebulous, dreamlike. I remember good things the way one
experiences happiness- in fleeting impressions. I don’t think it was the
apartment itself that I will miss. Instead, I will miss the life I lived inside
of it, even if that life was at times a huge mess. In semi-chronological order,
here are the things I will never forget:
The sense of relief I
felt upon getting out of Crown Heights and finally moving to Bushwick, where
I’d always wanted to live during all of the time I’ve resided in this city.
Everything we ever
did on the roof. Laughing with friends uncontrollably until dawn, drinking far
too much, listening to music and dancing and streaking (!) and not having any
neighbors catch me.
Sleeping in my old
room with no windows and leading the exquisitely miserable and desperate lifestyle
that I continue to romanticize.
Moving into the room
with windows after my horrible roommate moved out and my awesome roommate moved
in.
My 25th
birthday house party, our housewarming party, and Andrea’s birthday party.
Hosting the M1 Eve
sign-making party. Solidarity forever!
Those pussy willows I
put on the living room table last spring.
The breeze blowing into
the front room. Waking up to tree branches heavy with green leaves.
The lull of the B20
bus chugging down Decatur Street. Hearing laundry turn in the dryer and water
churning in the dishwasher.
Having the coolest,
most non-judgmental roommate ever.
Loving the man that I
do in my bed, in my room.
The last morning I
spent in my room. The pink and orange sunlight and the mourning dove cooing in
the tree at quarter ‘til seven.
I suppose the good
outweighs the bad, yes?
Saturday, September 15, 2012
my sibling is talented!
my san antonio-based sister and her man have created an absurdist sketch comedy web series entitled lost in texas. you can view all of the episodes here. i've posted the most recent one for your enjoyment.
Monday, August 27, 2012
photos: roof show at 1085 willoughby, 8/25/12
who doesn't love watching cool bands on a cool roof? click to enlarge and all that.
DISCLAIMER: i think/hope/pray i got all of the band names right. if you, dear reader, find that i've been mistaken in any instance, please do not hesitate to let management (i.e. ME) know.
czech neck (members of video daughters and teen demon)
heirloom
???? (plus crowd)
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
from my blog to your mag
some sarah lawrence friends of mine have been doing on online lit/art mag called runaway parade for some time now, and i finally contributed to their efforts. the quality of work is amazing on this site, and i am proud to be a part of it. i contributed a fiction piece which can be read here.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
impromptu power walking adventure
today i walked from my house off the wilson L stop all the way over to bedford avenue. i have no idea what possessed me to do this. at first my plan was to walk over to an apartment building that i had almost moved into, photograph it, and then come home to compose a piece on the nightmare slumlord battle that i and my almost-roommates had to endure in order to get out of that particular lease, which would have trapped us in an apartment with a roof on the verge of collapse. (i still intend to write about that, but not now.) however, i wasn't ready to go home after i paid my respects to 1428 putnam avenue. it was too beautiful outside. the streets were quiet and the hot stillness rising from the pavement would periodically get swept away by a summer breeze that seemed to unfurl from the trees. i decided to keep going and to keep taking pictures.
irving square park
chess board x-treme closeup
bushwick, nearish to myrtle-wyckoff
putnam avenue
bushwick high
rubber plants and rings for two bux
by the time i reached the jefferson stop, i decided that i was just going to keep walking until i reached bedford avenue. it was also at this time that i decided to take a beer break at bodega bar, where i drank, smoked, and wrote in my journal.
thankfully i was able to sit outside and gaze upon this rad mural.
r.i.p. sweet action
when i was through with bodega, i kept going. as i walked, i thought about how i love it when certain parts of brooklyn make you feel like you're not in brooklyn. i have been hanging out in red hook a bit lately, and one of the things i love about it down there is that i can pretend that i'm not in new york anymore, that i'm in the midwest, that i am nineteen again and on my way to visit my best friend in columbus, ohio. i know i can't live anywhere else- i wouldn't be happy anywhere other than where i am now. that's why i'm glad that sometimes there are small pockets of this city that can take you away, that can make you feel like you are someplace else, someplace you used to know and maybe love.
in the end, i made it to bedford avenue alive. a normal person would perhaps drink gatorade after a workout. i, on the other hand, opted for a "gatorita"- a tequila-spiked glass of lemon-lime gatorade served at the bastion of classiness and civility that is the levee. i also asked for free cheeseballs, which i NEVER do. i figured that i needed to cancel out my invigorating walk with a bunch of crap. mission accomplished!
ONE MORE THING: is it rude if somebody helps themselves to a handful of YOUR free cheeseballs without asking? i mean, i know they're free, but they were MY cheeseballs! i was writing in my journal and i see this hand traveling over to my balls. i watched in utter shock and horror as this hand helped itself to several fluorescent morsels. "i'm just going to take some o' these," announced the owner of the hand. a guy. of COURSE. i didn't know what to say to him. get your own, dude!
ALSO ANOTHER THING: i can't believe i walked four miles today!
ALSO ANOTHER THING: i can't believe i walked four miles today!
Saturday, July 14, 2012
ACCESS DENIED
there are many things that are worse than being DENIED ACCESS, but that doesn't mean that it still doesn't totally suck! here are all the times when i have had my ACCESS DENIED.
1. king and grove hotel, july 2012
when i heard that admission to king and grove's saltwater pool could be obtained by merely purchasing a drink at the hotel bar, i was like, fuck yeah, let's go! my friend and i went yesterday only to be told that we could not use the pool because we did not have a reservation. a RESERVATION? for a POOL!? they are now charging a forty-five dollar cover for said reservation. i guess a couple of beers just won't cut it anymore. lame!
2. random street fair, july 2012
i was sitting in macri square park eating a healthy hummus wrap from hana food. i looked up, and what do i see in the distance but a ferris wheel! i am so getting on that, i thought to myself. so, i finished half of my wrap, shoved the rest of it in my bag, and made my way across meeker avenue, which always freaks me out. when i reached the street fair, i asked the ticket lady how much it cost to ride the ferris wheel. "five bux," she said. i gave her five bux. i got in line. the ferris wheel operator glared at me.
"YOU CAN'T RIDE THIS," the he yells at me.
"WHAT???" (the ferris wheel music was deafening.)
"I SAID, YOU CAN'T RIDE THIS!"
"WHY NOT?"
"YOU NEED TWO PEOPLE!"
well, shit. i skulked back to the ticket counter. "NO REFUNDS," proclaimed a sheet that was taped to the window. this did not deter me. i calmly explained the situation. the woman gave me my five bux back. i walked away from the street fair in shame. however, i was able to relive the thrills of childhood elsewhere. i ducked into jaime campiz playground to ride the swingset. this maniacal child was swinging next to me. "i'm higher than you!" he yelled. i let him win and then went home.
3. mccarren pool, summer 2008
okay, so when the first MGMT album came out, i was really into that shit. you know what, i still like "electric feel." anyway. they were playing a free show at mccarren pool back when it wasn't a pool anymore. i dragged my then-boyfriend with me to see them, and i knew we should have gotten up early to make sure we got in, but we were stoners back then and i convinced myself that it would be fine, we could just roll up and get in and listen to some groovy jams. WRONG. the line was insane. it just kept going and going and going and GOING. we stood in line anyway. why? i will never know. we both knew that it was game over. sure enough, after standing there for way too long, a dude on a loudspeaker announced that "IF YOU ARE STANDING IN LINE YOU WILL NOT BE GETTING INTO MCCARREN POOL TODAY." ugh. awful. we went home and smoked more weed and looked at gawker. gawker told us that kirsten dunst had been at the show. she had been chilling in the VIP area. she didn't have to stand in line.
"bitch," i said.
"for real," said my boyfriend.
4. douche-y manhattan club, may 2007
the day a bunch of my friends graduated from college, we were cruising around the city looking for drugs. my boyfriend knew a dude who worked at a club where these drugs could possibly be found. at the time, i was underage. i had a fake ID that i'd purchased for 60 dollars at a shady store in chinatown. it had worked in most bars and even at the mobil station in bronxville, so i was feeling pretty cocky when i tried to follow my boyfriend into the club. i handed the bouncer my id. he took one look at it and stuck it in his pocket.
"i keep these," he said.
"what!?" i cried.
"i said, i keep these."
i was so mad. i stormed across the street and hurled my body against a chain-link fence. my boyfriend left the club when he realized what had happened and we all ended up going home without finding drugs. it was okay, though. i think everybody was exhausted from senior week. we all went our separate ways and faded into the night. i'm glad we never found the drugs.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
this is how we do
i can check this shit off my list:
-securing a spot to see the east river fireworks that is ACTUALLY good
-securing a spot to see the east river fireworks that is ACTUALLY good
-taking a bus out of port authority
-visiting the lovely town of sparta, nj
-going for a night swim
-riding in the back of a cop car
-posing for pictures with antiquated handguns
-partying in NY, NJ, and CT all in one day.
it was a true tri-state weekend. happy birthday, america!
it was a true tri-state weekend. happy birthday, america!
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
highs and lows
ryan mcginley cancelled on us three times before FINALLY coming in to sign his stock. the day after he cancelled for the third time, one of my supervisors asked if he'd made it in and i said, "what do you think?"
whatever. today he was there and today i brought a stack of copies of whistle for the wind up to the third floor, where he was seated at a desk in a far corner of the room, silently scribbling his signature again and again in each of the fifty billion copies of his book that were already stacked on the desk.
"wow," i thought, "sometimes my job is cool...i guess?"
i went back downstairs only to be called up again 15 minutes later to fetch the signed stock and bring it all back to the art floor. i did so. ryan mcginley was nowhere to be seen and i assumed that he had peaced the fuck out. i waited like, a thousand years for our terrible elevator to take me down to the second floor. when i got off, one of my colleagues was standing by the door. i wheeled the cart onto the floor.
"HE CAME!" i cried. "HE SIGNED! HE CON-"
"shut up!" my colleague hissed. "he's right over there!"
i turned my head towards the photography table. ryan mcginley was browsing the photography books. oopsy! he had earphones in, so i don't think he heard me? oh well. on a side note, i really don't like when people wear earphones while they are browsing around in stores.
so, that was the high point of my day. the low point came while i was on the train coming back to brooklyn. when i got a seat, i sat down and examined the couple sitting across from me. the first thing i noticed was that the woman was wearing THESE SHOES:
GROSS. then, something happened that was, if you can believe it, EVEN GROSSER. this woman was eating the following CONDIMENT right out of the jar with a SPOON:
i almost barfed in my mouth. i ACTUALLY gagged when she handed the jar to her boyfriend, who put the jar to his mouth and DRANK the rest of it. WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!???????????
anyways. now it is time for my cleaning party, as my room is a complete disaster area. loud music and beer are in order! wish my luck. i am about to go into the shit.
LATER!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
YOUR CONVERSATION IS TERRIBLE
i don't know if any of you have experienced this phenomenon, but every now and then one may find oneself in close proximity to a group of people who find themselves so clever and interesting that they feel they must talk very loudly so that the whole world may be dazzled by their wit and enthralled with their fascinating lives! perhaps you have even been involved in such a group. well, the truth is that OTHER PEOPLE'S CONVERSATIONS ARE TERRIBLE. especially if you must listen to them while waiting for food. hot dogs, if you will. at two in the morning. when you only have one dollar. while wondering to yourself, why did i have to spend my last two quarters on two gumballs earlier? i could have afforded papaya dog and avoided standing in line with these jerks! ah, such is life.
yes, i know what you may be thinking: why, not my conversations! i only talk about intelligent things and i have a great sense of humor! and you may indeed! but your conversation still sounds terrible. i can't explain it. the end!
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