May 13th, 2001.  Sunday
 

    Ahem...

    Sunday night.  Listening to a downloaded version of Weezer's new album.  Called "Weezer."  Isn't it sort of weird to have two of your three albums self-titled.  How odd.  Anyway, I was just reading an article on Salon about the rock critic Robert Cristgau.  The so called Dean of rock criticism. Every time I read something like this is sort of depresses me. It's indicative of the mental block that I have, that makes it difficult for me to do anything. it's like an insurmountable mountain that I have to climb, and I'm not totally sure I even want to climb this particular mountain. So why bother? I've really got to get over that.  I'm taking steps to do so.
    Anyway, it was sort of an interesting article because one of the people he talks about is his former girlfriend, who happened to be the head of the program I was in at NYU.  And I was just interested on what his idea of a good record review is.  That satisfied, time to move on.
    So the last few days have been fairly interesting.  Friday was nothing terribly special Went looking for a waitering job with Caryn.  she said she wanted make a documentary or something that just showed me going "Are you looking for waiters? well, thanks anyway."  Lots and lots of rejection.  Who can get used to it?  I guess once you get used to rejection you're pretty much dead.  People laugh when I tell them that, if nothing else, I am an optimist.  I was talking to somebody I went to school with yesterday and he was telling me I'd really like the place where he works, because the people there are so cynical.  I said to him "We've spoken like four times, and you already have that opinion of me?"  I can't remember what he said to me.  The cynical and sarcastic and ironic side is just the side that comes out most of the time.  The crunchy outer shell, if you will.  I was telling Caryn the other day that, in fact, my single biggest problem is my optimism.  She had a good guffaw at that.  But really, i think that I have the mentality that everything will eventually work out ok, so why really get too involved in the doing?  I've often wondered why in movies, when people go to the future or whatever, they even do anything to make that future happen, since it's supposed to happen anyway, or else they'd never see it. I always wonder if that happened to me, what i'd do, and if my laziness would disrupt the future I was supposed to inhabit.
    Anyhow, all that aside, it was incredibly hot on Friday, and pretty soon my job search turned into an apartment search.  Not sure where I want to live next year. I really feel a desire to leave Brooklyn and live in Manhattan. Every time I'm in the East Village I want to live there.  But I'm trying not to worry about it. I'm sure everything will work out ok.

    So on Saturday I went with Rodzilla down to Bay Ridge in Brooklyn to get some shoes for a bridesmaid dress.  then came back to Park Slope and decided to go to Manhattan.  She had just seen the Charlie's Angels movie, and spent the rest of the afternoon striking kung-fu poses and yelling "Who sent you?!"  Weird.  But entertaining.  Another hot day spent walking around.  Had a coffee and cake at French Roast on 12th street, sampled some cheese at Balducci's, looked for sneakers for me, and went down to Soho to shop around.  A good New York spring afternoon.  very pleasant.  Then it started raining, and I we walked back toward her house and I came home too get ready for the evening. Jed and I went up to 106th street on the Upper West Side for our friend Kathy's going away party.  She's has also just graduated NYU, and is moving back to LA on Thursday. Driving the whole way. that should be fun.  So the party was pretty fun. The apartment belonged to one of her friends, and it was about the nicest place I've seen in New York.  Maybe I've just got real estate on the mind, but I couldn't get over how nice the place was. Not one, but two balconies, one on top of the other, looking out onto the river.  Got to see some people I went to NYU with and never really spoke to that much.  The upstairs room had a hard wood floor and was big enough to break dance in. So I did a little backspinning while Caryn and I hung out in there. It was really the most comfortable room I'd been in in a long time.  It always helps when it's candle-lit.  Anyway, the party itself actually turned out to be a good job search tool.  Which is why I didn't go home today, as I had planned.  The parents thought it'd be a lot better if I looked for a job instead of spending a few days at home.  Anyway, I spoke to a few friends/aquaintances who have some pretty good ideas.  Which I should really get started on tomorrow.  There was lotsa good food too.  Which is always a plus.

    So after the party, we (me, Jed, Caryn, and PFC Katey) called Jen, who lives on the Upper West, and who we were supposed to call hours earlier, and met up with her at the bar called Jake's Dilemma on 80th st.  We'd been there several times before, and it's become sort of the de facto hangout when we're all on the Upper West, which isn't very often. Anyway, Jed was fairly drunk, and left the party after having spilled various drinks and sauces all over himself.  In the subway tunnel, he said something about kicking his shoe off.  The next thing I know, I here a thud on the tunnel wall, I turn around, and there's a birkenstock flying at my head. I have to say, I was pretty impressed that I was able to catch it.  So once we got to the bar, Jed decided he wanted to play pool.  I thought he was drunker than I guess he actually was, so I didn't really think that'd be a good idea. I figured he'd make a fool out of himself, not by playing badly, but just babbling nonsense.  Anyway, it finally came his turn to play, and no one else would play with him, so I grabbed the stick and missed a few easy shots.  By the time our opponents, a short gut and not-unattractive girl, had one ball left, we still had all seven. So then we made an amazing run, and Jed sank the eight ball to seemingly win it, until the cue ball fell into the corner pocket.  So we were done playing, but our opponents said they were leaving and we could keep the table.  So we did. The next people came up, racked the balls, introduced themselves, and Jed and I were debating who would embarrass themselves by breaking.  So about that time, about 5 meatheads show up, in the middle of a bachelor party, and start screwing with their camcorder on the table. We're like, fine.  So we wait, then one of the guys, a short but totally jacked guy, slams his fist into the table and scatters the pool balls.  Amazingly, none of the balls went in, so he grabs the 6 ball and slams it into the pocket, which sucked because you can't get the ball out.  So we just try to ignore them and re-rack the balls.  While I'm up there, the guy leans over to me and says "What do you do? Physics?"  And I reply "Yeah.  I'm a physicist."  Fucker.  immediately after I'd said it so sarcastically, I regretted it.  So I scurried down to the other end of the table while the other guys were re-racking.  After the second scattering of the pool balls, Jed yelled "Hey, you wanna re-rack those for me, tough guy?"  And I was thinking "shut the fuck up Jed."  Jen was a bit incredulous, and commented that if she were a guy she'd probably get in a lot of fights.  Then she went down to the bar to get a beer. I was really hoping she was getting the bouncers.  But no, just beer.

    So the meatheads keep fucking with the balls, and the guy we were supposed to be playing just keeps trying to move on and play.  Without a word, the short jacked guy sorts fucking wailing on this guy's face. I've never actually seen anyway punched that hard and squarely in the face before.  He landed about 4 or 5 punches before the guy even knew what hit him.  Then, the short guy's three or four friends all sort pounding on him.  I immediately try to make for the door and get the bouncers.  Before the fighting began, I thought about saying something like knock it the fuck off.  I'm really, really glad I didn't.  So I tried to get down the four steps to the lower lever, but the guys friends were basically holding me and Jed back.  I'm basically trying to not get involved. I thought about helping the guy out, cause he was getting the living shit kicked out of him, but then I thought better of it. So I'm trying to avoid getting hit by any stray punches or glasses, and one of the guys gets thrown into me and I'm backed into the corner with the friend of the guy getting his ass kicked and two of the ass kickers. So I'm like "FUCK."  luckily, when the guy tried to help his friend, they didn't fuck him up, but just took him to the floor.  After that, my spine got a huge shock and then started to stiffen up, to the point where I couldn't even move.  That was sort of scary.  My heart was pounding out of my chest.  I think if the guys were do drunk and 50-60 lbs heavier than me, I wouldn't have been that nervous about it, but who's to say.  The funny thing was that when we got there, Jed was all drunk and was like "let's get into a fight."  At the time, everyone in the place was sort of little.  I really don't know what I would've done if they'd started punching me. Probably crawled under the pool table and took my chances with them kicking at me or something.  And I really  don't know what I would've done if they'd started beating on Jed. I guess I would've had to try to do something, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have gotten that far.  I'm not the biggest weakling, but there's no way in hell I could've done much to any of those guys, much less 4 at a time.  For a brief moment, the thought did cross my mind that I could probably get in one really good lick with the cue stick, and then that would be the end of me.  What I should've done was wait until I saw the bouncers coming, grabbed a stick, whacked that fucker on his head, then pray the bouncers showed up before he could retaliate.  I can't believe the fight went on for as long as it did.  Especially since there were two other fights that evening.  Who goes to the Upper West Side to get into fights? It's too yuppie for that.  Anyway, the worst thing that happened to Jed and me personally was that the two beers we'd just ordered were spilled in the fracas.  but after sorting it out with the bartender, we got two more beers. So it all worked out OK. Although that was probably the first chance I've ever got to hold the pool table for two consecutive games.  and we never even got to play. But on the bright side, we did get to chat with the super-cute waitress who works there.

    On the whole,  a very interesting experience. I've never seen a bona-fide bar fight before.  And this was the least-provoked fight ever.  It was ridiculous. No shit talking, no posturing. Just a guy being a dick then straight to the ass-kicking.  for some reason, when I saw the guy getting beat up, he was shirtless.  When I saw him right after it was broken up, his face was sort of bruised.  one minute later I saw him, and his entire eye socket was swollen like he had a golf ball sized tumor in there. it was amazing and disgusting.  So we spent the next hour there in awe,  We decided a few things.  We need to start hanging out with bigger guys.  I thought maybe I should go to the gym more.  Jed thought maybe we should go to that bar less.  And we all agreed it was really good that Matt wasn't there. Out of all our friends, he's the only one that might've actually started some shit.  I don't think he would've gotten involved if the fight had started and he wasn't the one fighting.  But I'm pretty sure he would've talked a whole lotta shit.  Then that really would've dragged me and Jed into it.  I was also thinking about the possibility that Jed and I indirectly caused the fight. I mean, if we never showed up, would the fight have even happened?  Different people woulda been playing pool.  Would that meaty fucker have started all that shit if two girls were playing the guys?  did our presence there somehow lead to this poor guy getting his face punched in?  All very interesting questions.  But I think Jed summed it up best when he said to Jen and me "We're all very fortunate because that very well could have been us."
    All in all, a sort of interesting experience. I felt bad for not doing more, but smart for not doing more.  I'm really angry that fuckers like that exists, and that the bouncers kicked all of them out, so they could kill each other on the street.  This morning I went through the same sort of little boy violent scenes of justice that i did back when I got mugged.  Anyway I feel sort of conflicted about the whole thing.

So let's do a quick performance evaluation of the evening.
Self preservation instincts?  Check.
Fight or flight issues finally resolved? Check.
Masculinity brought into further question? Check.
Lessened self image?  Sort of.
Boyish good looks bruised, battered, and bloodied ? A big ol' NEGATIVE

Final evaluation?  Good show, old bean.
 

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