June 25, 1999. Friday

    So New York was very, very tiring.  I didn't really want to go, but I guess it's really good that I did.  I get a good idea of the layout of the city, something I had absolutely no knowledge about. I knew the five boroughs, and that was about it.

    But first, I guess I should pick up with Tuesday night.  I met up with Jason and Mike and Jason's girlfriend, we'll call her "woman," around 10. The default plan these days is usually bolwing, and since we had no other plans that we could all agree on, we went bowling.  I played like shit. I lost.  twice. It was ugly. And that's all I'll say about that.  So after that, Jason and I went to get a bite to eat.  We went to Michael's Diner, in nearby Birdsboro, PA. The waitress is this heavy-set, 50-ish women with an extremely creepy high-pitched voice. We'd seen her before, and it was just as creepy then.  I can't really remember what we talked about. Some stuff about online life. And his upcoming two-year anniversary with his girlfriend,"Woman."  Actually, they're out celebrating as I write this.  This whole anniversary thing has got me thinking.  After you get married, where does this sort of event fall on the importance scale?  How important is the anniversary of when you started dating? It's certainly not as important as your wedding anniversary. Is it more important than a birthday?  Or is it one of those things that you'd only really celebrate every five years or so?  Somehow "20 years ago, on this day..." sound better than "8 years ago we started dating." It just doesn't have that ring. Hmmm... Maybe I'll find out someday.  Maybe.   Someday.

    So... I slept most of the bus ride to NY. I woke up just in time to hear some jackass in the middle of the most pointless, meandering conversation I've ever heard in my life.  As we first came within site of NY City, he started spouted off all these little comments and "facts" about the city. "Oh, look at that- it's just amazing."  Then he started talking about movies based in NY. Then he started talking about ganster movies based in NY. Then he mentioned the fact that Stephen King was recently hit by a van while walking on the road by his house.  I guess he figured, "Hell, since I'm talking about movies, I might as well talk about anyone that's ever had anything to do with any movie."  From there, things got progressively worse.  His next "association" from the Steven King accident was "that's just like the 76er's owner, Pat Croce. He wrecked on his motorcycle."  huh?  That's not anything like that, you dolt!  I couldn't help but stare at this poor sap, who obviously was too anxious to show his compatriots that, yes, he could indeed remember and recite information he'd heard recently.  Fucking people, man...

    I arrived in NY around 1 on Wednesday afternoon. I took the bus, and that pulled in to Port Authority, and then I had to walk over to Penn Station to catch the Long Island Railroad to get to James's house.  I made sure to check which block the stations were on before i left, but when I got off the bus, i completely forgot where Penn Station was.  I passed Madison Square Garden on 33rd and 7th, where I thought Penn Station was.  after about another half hour of walking under the hot sun, I called James, who let me in on the info that Penn Staion was under Madison Square Garden.  So I of coursed missed the train I needed to catch. I eventually got to James's, after much delay.
    Since it was obvious we wouldn't be going back to Manhattan that day, we dicked around his house for a bit. He revealed to me the latest and "final" choice of the new band name.  I didn't like it, but it was better than the previous few he had suggested.  So then we decided to go to the beach.  It was about a half hour ride to Jones Beach, but that wasn't good enough for us, so we kept going for about another 20 minutes till we couldn't drive anymore. I hadn't actually been to a beach in a very long time. If you don't count my trip to Atlantic City last August, I hadn't even seen the Ocean in 5 five years.  So it was good to just walk around with my shoes off in the sand and water. The water was freezing, of course, and I got a bit damp, but it was all good.  It was a gorgeous day, and there was probably no better place to be than by the water. What is it about water that makes it so cool to be around? I mean, 3/4 of the earth is covered in water.  Why's it such a goddam thrill?  Oh well.

    So after that, we went back to James's house. His mom fed us well, much to James's chagrin.  He doesn't like being served, and when he has guests I guess his mom kicks it into overdrive. I don't really like being served either, especially in my friend's house. It's kinda awkward. But the food was really good.  An assortment of Greek and Mediterranean foods. His parents are Greek, you know.  And let's see... that night we went out with his friend Dierdre and her sister to some bar on Long Island.  The Knicks-Spurs game was on, and I forgot that I was in New York and was surprised to see such a Knicks contigent in the bar.  These guys were mostly pathetic goons. I mean, I like watching sports as much as the next guy, and yeah, I get excited when my team wins. But it's just kinda sad when yer sitting around a bar, hi-fiving each other everytime something goes "your" way.  These two schmucks just get slapping eachothers hands and going "whoo!" and "yeah!" and" allRIGHT!" and such and such. Maybe I'm being too harsh. But it just made me giggle.  Actually, James and I talked at length over the two days I was there about how everyone props themselves up using other people. Everyone sees themselves as better than other people. So I'm not saying I'm better than some joker in a bar. Oh, who am I kidding? I am better than them. As far as I'm concerned, my close friends and I are way way above 90% of the population.  Just listening to and watching people, I'm convinced of this. Sure, most people probably feel this way. But the difference between them and me, is that they're wrong.
 
    So anyway, the next day, James and I made our trek into New York.  We stopped by NYU first, so I could use their off-campus housing database. Of course, I didn't have any proof that I was actually going to be a student there, so I had to run around Washington Square Park for about an hour in the heat.  Some camera crew was filming something too, but that didn't impede the walk too much.  The restaraunt we ate in, called Dojo I think, was playing Luna's Penthouse. That put me in a lot better mood, and I was all excited about living in New York. It's amazing how some good, familiar music will pep you right up and make you excited about something.

    Shortly after that, however, my spirits were broken.  Brooklyn, where I was really hoping to live, was supremely disappointing.  I can't live there. I either didn't like the areas, or I could never afford to live in the areas I liked.  We started off in Greenpoint.  Matt had warned me about it, but I thought, what the hell?  Well, "hell" may be a bit too harsh, but I certainly didn't wanna live there. Williamsburg wasn't much better.  I mean, I have nothing against Hasidic Jews, but to be honest, I don't wanna live around them.  I don't mind it when I'm the only Chinese guy around, but I mind it a little more when the other people around me are som homogeneous. And Park Slope was nice, but a little too swank for Jimmy's taste.  I liked it, but I doubt we could afford to live there. I knew it was too nice for us when we were standing on a corner trying to decide where to go, when a women walking her baby around said "Are you lost? Can I help?"  Who does that?  No one in Manhattan, I assure you.  I mean, it's weird enough when you ask for help and someone actually is helpful, but to be offered help was a little weird.  I almost felt bad that we didn't need help.  But James didn't care much for the area.  We were gonna stop in Carrol Gardens on our way back to Manhattan, but we were dead tired, and didn't feel like anymore walking.
    We got off the train right across the river, in the East Village.  I thought it looked a bit too scummy, but James is in love with it. Once we got across Houston St., though, I liked it a lot more.  James has this desire to live around Avenue A, but I'm more inclined to live up around 1st or 2nd Ave.  After talking to Matt just a few minutes ago, he told me that the Alphabet City area was definitely out. He was pretty adamant that it was a "shithole" and that even though the areas we were looking at didn't seem so bad, "at night the borders blur."  I kinda trust Matt's opinion on these things. He's much more familiar with the city than James or I.  I think.  So now my first choice is probably around the west end of the East Village, around the 300 or 200 blocks of 11th-20th street. I don't know how expensive that'll be, but I think if we get decent jobs we can swing it.  I think James sees some sort of glamor in living in the squalor of the city, but I think if we just suck it up try to make a decent living we can up the roof on our rent limitations a bit.  But I'm not all that confident that we'll end up living together. So now I'm counting on Nora more than ever.  I really don't wanna live by myself. What fun is that? Plus, the expense is just staggering.  I'd have to be insane to wanna live by myself in Manhattan. And living with Nora'd be super cool too.  Oh yeah, in Tompkins Sq Park, some guy od'd and I think he died. I don't know if this is a common thing, and I may sound like a country-bumpkin, but I don't wanna live around there. On Avenue A, coincidentally.

    After out little trip to the East Village, we headed up toward Union Station. I ran into the Virgin Megastore to grab the new Pavement single for "spit on a stranger," while James waited in the park.  I also saw the Jellybricks cd in there. only one copy. didn't look like a big seller. But it's still weird to see Garrick's band's cd out in national stores.  I wonder if the Virgin Megastores in London and Paris have their cd?
    When I found James, he was sitting on a park bench, next to this pretty attractive girl. There was actually one bench in between them. So i took the opportunity to sit on the bench in between. Without looking at him, I muttered "In Paris, the cafes are many," trying to inflect my best secret-agent-code-speak.  But he didn't play along. I guess onyl someone who'd read a lot of Foxtrot or Calvin and Hobbes would get that.  I suppose that'd mean only Jed or Doug or my brothers.  Oh well. So I felt like a big retard when he didn't play along.  So we sat there for a long time, as James would periodically tell me how repulsed he was by the couple across the path. Apparently the guy was whispering in her ear and was occasionaly snarling in a porn-star kinda way.  James would also periodically tell me how beautiful the girl sitting next to me was. I didn't get a good look at her face, but she seemed pretty attractive. A nice summery, billowy kinda hippie dress and birkenstocks.  She seems nice enough, and I was in a weird mood and felt like striking up conversation with random (attractive) people.  Of course, I had nothing to say. The only thing I had was to play off my runny nose, and the most I could muster was "Excuse me, miss?  You wouldn't happen to have a tissuem, or kleenex, would you?"  So I just kept my big mouth shut. I just felt like talking to people.  But of course my fear and insecurity just took over.  It woulda been funny, and I wish I would done it. Though seeing as I mostly wanted to talk to her just to write about it and I'm writing about it anyway, I guess I didn't need to.
 
    On our way out of the park, we saw a camera crew filming some guys in suits, asking them questions.  It looked a lot like the interview's on HBO's "Real Sex" shows, and it turns out that it was.  But James and I didn't feel like hanging around, though I felt like pretending to be gay again. But in retrospect, it's good that my moments like that aren't captured on camera.

     So I got back today.  The bus ride was more unpleasant today, mainly because I was awake for most of it.  I leave for Lexington, VA tomorrow, to start my camp counselor job. I met Rodzilla on that job, 2 years ago,  you know. And she'll be back too. Hot dog!

So I don't know when I'll update this regularly again. Probably not at least for a week. in the meantime, why don't you sign the guestbook?  It's easy, and more people are doing it everyday, and you can too! So go ahead, why dontcha?
 
And lastly, a belated Happy B-Day to brother Geoff, who turned a big 21 yesterday.  Hoo-a!
 

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