Fonzi, who I grew up with, offered me a place to stay in NY. He and girlfriend Delaney stayed at his place and I lived as apartment-proxy, in a corner room in one of those triangular buildings on diagonal streets. After Fonzi and Delaney got back from a niece’s talent show, we had a quick-quip fun-art critical-social catch-up/what-are-we-doing-with-our-lives.
Morgan, Fonzi, and I went to a giant-gay-underground-warehouse-party with concert-level sound and an infinite amount of lasers. Aside from constant access to water I realize I need a consistent supply of sounds like those. I saw Preston from Model Files in the crowd, got excited and texted Noah. Morgan told me Alexander Wang was there too. I danced non-stop-coyote-slingshot, drank one $7 beer, and walked from Bushwick to Williamsburg at 3:30 am.
Morgan and I had a dreamy catch-up friend-talk “I-haven’t-seen-you-since-high-school” “what-we-are-doing-with-our-lives.” We went to Best Pizza, they didn’t have vegan slices at that moment so we threw a brick through their window. We walked like a block and found a place that did have vegan slices. We went to the water. We saw people with ice cream cones. The people were emanating from a vegan ice cream truck. We went to a bodega and got vegan ice cream sandwiches/kombucha. We ate some of the cuties and gave some away in the park where we lay under a tree with everyone else in Brooklyn.
Sandra, Crokcet, and Chris signed the lease on a warehouse in Bushwick which happens to be across the street from an ice factory. By the time I visited Crocket had already contacted the factory and got a deal to fill Iceshelf with ice for its first opening in New York. Once the ice melts in Iceshelf people will be able to fill white water balloons from faucets on the truck.
The warehouse borders on some L train tracks and an expansive graveyard. Crocket found industrial ice packs there. Pretty cool. My friends were sleepy. Conversation revolved endlessly around details of the build out. “Like, we should have a music studio with a window in the floor?”
My hair was not David Lynch at the beach like I wanted because I had not been in salt water or hair product. It was making it so I couldn’t see. I did what you do in a city and got a free haircut. Afterward I tried on $500 sunglasses and realized I need $500 sunglasses to go with my free haircut. Instead I bought a white t shirt and some falafel on rice.
I spent time looking for the Earth Room and when I found it it turned out to be closed for the summer. I sat in the lobby outside the elevator of whatever apartments or offices were in the building and drank the rest of the water from my kombucha bottle. A man walked out from the stairway and nodded to me with a look of knowing. I gazed out the door, thinking about my breath. A dog came up and licked my face. I plugged my phone in under some mailboxes and waited for a while before taking a bird of paradise and using it to smash car windows. A cop walked by and waved.
I walked two miles to meet my middle-school-best-friend, Serrana, at the sports bar next to her apartment. Mexico won their game so her boyfriend could sleep again, and she could go back to work/catch up with me. She is writing/directing plays and might get a job selling glasses. I thought about having those $500 glasses on my face. I took the subway back to Brooklyn and bought snacks. I was trying to think of a host-gift that wouldn’t just inconvenience the host so I bought coconut water.
Sandra and Chris came by to return Kristen’s boyfriend’s sleeping bag to me at 1 am. After <1.5 hours sleep I lugged a hundred pounds of supplies-suitcases across subway gates. At the last turn-sculpture help came from one benevolent stranger, asking me if I was coming to or going from NY. I said I couldn’t tell but I definitely wanted to be her roommate.
In line for the bus a man took cuts in front of me, and I wouldn’t have noticed except the man behind me started yelling “So you think you’re fucking special huh? What do think there’s a line for buddy, get to the back of the fucking line you jerk off – fucking scum.” – It went on like that. When I got to the airport they were calling my name, so I had to take cuts, and no one seemed to notice. At the gate they said the pilot had come to meet me due to my being so late. I said “I am sorry, I am the worst” and sat between some business-types. I don’t know how I was late, but I am New Mexican.
In Dallas two people insisted I go in front of them. It was kind, but not logical considering I was 40 hours awake and confused by everything. “Thank you.” “- It doesn’t make a difference, we won’t get to Albuquerque any faster” said Texas-man with hat.
I sat next to buoyant tye-dye-straw-hat abq kid, who was coming back from Mexico. We talked about music, performing as multi-dimensional scales of preference for one another – “You like band? You might also like band!” Airplane companion used to be sports-ball get-big but then learned art kids have more interesting parties. “At our parties we would literally hit each other and say balls.” We waited for bags and both of our dads were late to pick us up so it was true, we were old high school buddies.
I felt it to be so low to the ground and nothing was there. There were particles of slow-movement-dust and I half-napped gas-station. “I have to move to New York dad, you can’t swing a person in all-black without hitting a vegan restaurant.” “I went to a cool party.” “I got to stay in a place.” We got Vietnamese food at the restaurant where we get Vietnamese food in Albuquerque, across from the ax-swinging sculpture.
Dad handed me a beer, we hugged, and I cleaned my room. Noah had left a dust-lounge of pokemon cards. A Sublime record was tucked into my bed. I laughed and laughed.