October 30th,
2001. Tuesday
Since last we heard:On Friday, i worked the 5th double shift in five days. Though I must admit I didn't really mind being at work on Friday night. By then, I'd been there so much that the place was starting to get a real homey feel to it. And the soft lighting helped too.
After work, I had plans to meet up with old Dan Rushing, former denizen of the SHOE. He and his relatively new bride Jen were in town for the weekend. I'd missed the earlier festivities of the evening, which included a show, dinner, and riding up and down in the elevator of the Marriott Grand Marquis hotel in midtown. That was Jed's message. "Hey. We just rode up and down the elevator a bunch of times. Call us when you get out of work." I guess I was sort of jealous. Anyway, they were downtown by the time I got out of work, around 11:30. So I met them at Fez, a Moroccan themed bar/restuarant/club on Lafayette street. Along with Jed and the Rushings were Aaron and his girlfriend Hilary. It was really good to see Dan, and I'd been looking forward to it. Out of town guests do wonders when you're in a terrible routine. So we sat around and caught up and drank second rate caipirinhas. They were really just glorified vodka tonics. Then again, maybe I'm becoming something of a drink snob. Anyway, there was plenty of cheese to be had. So I did. I like cheese. Curiously, the night before I had left work and gone over to Jen K.'s apartment, where I also sat around and ate a bunch of cheese. Anyway, Aaron and Hilary left after a while, and the remaining four of us decided to head somewhere more divey.
So we took a cab into the East Village and tried to go to Baraza, but it was too hip for us to get it. The line at the door was a dozen deep, and we only had one girl with us. They have a sign that says on weekends they reserve the right to enforce a 2:1 male:female ratio. Fuckers. Anyway, so we walked west, hoping to go to the Holiday Cocktail Lounge, they diviest(?) of the dive bars we know. And the cheapest. But I forgot about yet another peculiarity of the HCL, which is that it closes shortly after 1:00 AM. So we walked between 1st and 2nd avenue a few times, mainly because I couldn't find where we were going, and finally settled on the Black Star bar. More drinking ensued. Various whiskey concoctions. Talk of books and movies and video games. Then Jen decided she wanted to play pool, and I felt like watching. I like to watch. Anyway, she was rather impressive, and carried her team to victory. So then this drunk old man wanted to play and needed a partner, so I partnered up with him to take on Jen and her boy. I was relatively hammered by then, and was talking shit to people I wouldn't normally talk shit to. Or even talk to, frankly. But it was all good natured. By the way, my favorite line when playing pool is, after the other guy misses and before you take your shot, "Boys, it's all over but the cryin'."
So we beat Jen, no thanks to me. The drunk say had said to me, after missing a few shots and in a slurry manner, "Juswait'll I get one in. Then I'llgitlikethreeorfour...inarow!" And sure enough, that's exactly what he did. So then he let me and Jen play the next game, and we lost, much thanks to me. Though after the game I kept telling Jen it was her fault. My team beat her, but my goodness couldn't overcome her badness, I said. Anyway, by then the joint was closing, so Jed and I hopped in a cab home.
Saturday I was awoken by the phone around 11. I never pick up the phone before noon. It's never good news. And i figure if it's for me, they'll call me cell phone. Which they did. "They" being Rodzilla. She was at work, and it was slow. We talked for about 6 minutes, then said she'd call me back later. So a few minutes later the phone rings. It's not for me. Then the phone rings again, not for me. So I keep breaking and breaking my no-phone-before-noon rule, each time falling asleep for a few minutes, just cos she said she'd call me back. Of course, she never said when. And that ended up being around 2. So it wasn't the best night's sleep considering I went to bed around 5, and the day was spent zombie-lke and feeling like poo. So I spent the rest of the afternoon preparing for the evening. In the evening, Jed, Dylan, his girlfriend, and his out of town friend and I all went down to Matt's apartment on 6th ave. He was having a little pre-party party at his place. He was bored at work last week, and just decided to order a bottle of grain alcohol. Then he decided to make jello-shots. Then he had to figure out what classes to take sophomore year. Anyway, they were pretty gross. It was kind of what I'd imagine lime jello would taste like if one used kerosene instead of water. And twice to called for amount. After I had one, Dylan's girlfriend Kelly was all up in my face, saying how red I was or how I'd be asleep on the bathroom floor. And I have to admit, just one little cup full- they hadn't really congealed- sort of threw me for a loop. Anyway, soon after we headed for out for Manhattan, a tray of jello-shots in tow.
By the time we reached the subway, Matt realized that all the Jello had poured out of the tray and into the baggy. After cursing loudly, and just took the tray out and poured the remaining jello back into the tray. The classiest part was the plastic warp held on by masking tape. It looked like Nickelodeon ooze or something. Though I must admit, watching it slowly undulate as the train changed speed, as well as touching it through the plastic wrap, was somewhat hypnotizing.
We stopped off at Matt's ladyfriend's place on 9th st for a while. She was dressed as the devil. We made smores. over a scented candle. Which didn't seem to be the best idea. But oh well. Then we, sans Matt, met up with the Rushings and Aaron and gal pal back in the East. Aaron with said gal pal took off shortly thereafter, and the rest of us looked around for another bar, finally ending up at Blue and Gold on 7th. A major selling point for Dylan was the presence of the Styx greatest hits cd on the jukebox. Soon, we all heard the melodious sounds of "Come Sail Away." Dylan's friend wasn't feeling too shipshape, so after he threw up, Dylan and crew went home. Shortly they were replaced by James, his girlfriend, and her friend Fiorella. There was a pool table, and I told Jen I needed redemption for my previous failure. We ended up playing this guy and girl team, who on their previous game had only sunk one ball and had won on their opponent scratching on the 8-ball. I played the worst I had in years, missing straight shots two feet from the pockets. And we lost at the end. I didn't like the look about that girl. Tall, blonde, ribbed pink and red turtleneck, silver cross hanging over the turtleneck. I guess she had Jesus on her side. Who'd I have? Some married dame. Though she was quite good, and kept us in it till the end. And her ring is awfully pretty. Still, it was a humiliating loss.
So Jed and I got in a cab and headed back to Brooklyn. He needed a bagel, so we got out at 5th ave. Since we were already on 5th, I figured we could drop in on Great Lakes, where my brother Geoff said he'd be. And there he was. His friend is moving back to California, so they were having a little good bye for him at the Lakes. The funny thing was that most of the people there either had moved to Manhattan or no longer lived in New York at all. Anyway, Jed went home and I stayed for a beer as well as some inane conversation and weirdness from what I can only hope were friends of Geoff's in some tertiary way.
At home, I deliberately didn't set my clock back an hour. So my past self gave my future self a little treat when I woke up the next afternoon and my clock said "1:50," groaned, then realized it was only 12:50. Not only that, since I set my clock 16 minutes ahead- which follows the same "pleasant waking surprise" principle as not setting it back an hour- it was really only 12:34. Not that I had anything in particular to get up for. It was cold. So I just did my laundry and sat around the house for the rest of the day. In the evening, we went out with the Rushings and aaron et al, to a restaurant near Aaron's apartment on Atlantic Avenue. Dan was nice enough to pick up dinner. I had the calf's liver in a cranberry sauce with crispy polenta. I don't know why I was in a mood for liver, but it was very good.
As I was leaving for work on Monday morning, I couldn't find my bag. I knew when I went to bed on Sunday that I didn't know where it was, but I figured it'd turn up. It didn't occur to me until I was about to walk out the door that I'd left it at Fez on Friday night. So I thought I was fucked and did a quick inventory of everything that was in there. The only real items were my cd player and digital camera. Then i got to thinking, I've been looking to replace those two items anyway, as well as the bag. So it didn't seem so bad. But then I remembered the little notebook I keep in there of little scribblings and lists and plans and dirty limericks, and I really wanted that back. Not to mention a bunch of rebates for glass and eye exams that totaled around 75 bucks. Luckily, when I called Fez they said they had it, so during lunch I went over and picked it up. And now I am one again. I don't know what I'd do without all my possessions.
I started my training at the new job on Monday afternoon. Nothing really doing there. the class was taught by one James Angelos. I tried to not to make a mockery of it or undermine his authority in anyway, and for the most part I did a pretty good job. But man, is it boring. Not only had I been through this last year when I worked there, but it's stuff like how to send email in Microsoft Outlook. Kooky. After work James and I stopped by the Fat Black Pussy Cat on West 3rd street and played a few games of pool. I was even worse than over the weekend. Then, off to the night job for the sixth day in a row. Wasn't too bad. Except for the show "Girlfriends" on UPN. Oh my god. Just awful. The last 8 minutes were spent listening to a gospel choir. I thought it was supposed to be a comedy. Just terrible.
Today: Late for work again. Missed 20 minutes of James's training. Wouldn't have felt that bad if his boss wasn't sitting there too. Anyway, went to the gym in Chelsea today. I tell people that, and they laugh. Outside the flags said "New York Sports Club." Inside they said "The Gayest Show on Earth!" Does "masculinity" have heterosexual connotations? I always kind of assumed it did. It's an odd feeling to have your masculinity threatened by exceptionally effeminate men. Or maybe I wasn't threatened but... intrigued?
Moving on, after work, I had to go to yet another eye doctor exam. The third in less than 20 days. I went on Friday, but they couldn't dilate the old pupils, so they couldn't check out this retinal tear business. "Retinal Tear" sounds pretty bad, so I figured I should get it checked out. So they dilated and poked around and indeed there was a tear. If left unchecked, there's a risk of impaired vision or total loss of sight. But upon further review, the doctor didn't seem too worried. Apparently the tear is pretty old, to the point where it's pigmented, as they say. Basically, it tore, and now it's scarred. So no surgery required. I was kind of worried about that. I don't like eye problemsSo then I walked around blind-like and managed to get up to 34th street. The Lowes Theater up there was showing free movies to celebrate the opening of the theatre. Caryn wanted to see the Matrix, but I kind of wanted to see something else. But when I got up there, it was quite clear that niether of us would be seeing anything, and not just because my pupils were as big as dinner plates. Ha! Anyway, the line was around the block, and I called her and filled her in and we said fuck it and I met her and Nate at Jelloado on East 4th for sushi and a giant Sapporo beer. They asked me if I wanted to split fried ice cream, and I said sure, until I remembered that I don't share dairy. Caryn said "See! What did I tell you he'd say!" Of couse, this wasn't exactly a Nostradamus act. I'd say one of the top three things you're likely to learn about me first is that I do not, under most circumstances, share dairy products with people. Really, it's disgusting. Dairy products like ice cream and yogurt and milk and cottage cheese, despite being really tasty, are all slimy and kind of gross in the first place. It's bad enough that my mouth has to endure the slimies. You're going to try to get me to share someone else's slimies. No way. They only time I really share dairy is if I'm going to be kissing the other person later anyway, or have kissed them in the past. It's a moot point under those circumstances. Then again, have you ever kissed someone right after they've eaten ice cream? that's not the most pleasant thing in the world. the only thing worse than sharing dairy that I can think of, on this relative scale, is sharing a toothbrush. Thankfully, that's only happened a handfull of times, and only in the most dire of oral hygiene circumstances. Anyway, when their ice cream showed up, i took the first taste. Caryn accused me of "sharing dairy" but of course she was wrong, since I took the first bite and didn't have to share a damn thing. Then they went to rent a movie and I was jonesing for cheesecake and coffee, so I sat in Cafe Pick Me Up for a little bit and tried to read the accursed Village Voice whilst eating cheesecake and drinking coffee. Speaking of cheesecake, at dinner on Sunday, while I was eating my liver, Hilary was trying to describe the texture of liver to those that hadn't had beef liver before. And after struggling for a bit, the best comparison she could come up with was "cheesecake." I was forced to agree. I was also forced to imagine how a liver-flavored cheese cake would taste. I mean, the liver tasted pretty good in its cranberry sauce. I like cheese.
Tomorrow is Halloween. Last year I had one of the worst nights of my entire life-up till that point- on Halloween. At the time I was wondering if Halloween would be ruined forever for me. Funny how, during all the shit that was going on, I was wondering if this stupid holiday would be ruined forever for me. Luckily, there have been several nights similar to the Halloween 2000 experience, that that night is just a faded memory. What I actually remember best is stumbling home from Jen's house, where I'd despondently darted, the next morning. I'd thrown out my contacts and had a hell of a time finding my way to the 2 train. I'm practically blind without my glasses. I hate that. So who knows what'll happen tomorrow. My horoscope said it'd be a good day the last two days. But it seems to have been a bunch of hooey. Although not needing eye surgery I guess could be considered a good thing.
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