June 13, 2008

thank god it's fatal!

I am sitting in Simone's room in her East Village apartment. I am jumping on her bed and wearing her clothes because I hand washed my outfit from yesterday in her sink when we got back home because I had sweat so profusely in it.

I woke up some time around 7 or 8 in the morning and fell asleep again because the kids at the middle school/high school across the street were yelling and rabble-rousing. A lot of "Ooooohh!" As in "Oh snap!"
Who is getting dissed at 7:30am? WHO! I'd like to know.
It reminded me of when I would wake up in Brooklyn to the same sounds. But from much older people. I felt alright. I wanted to sleep more. Much more.


Last night we went dancing. I was wearing really short shorts all day and felt subconscious. Some old dude definitely copped a feel on the way from the bar to the dance floor. The Lower East Side has always proved to be sketchy to me in some way. And I know that in things like rape cases, they always say something atrocious like "Well look at what she was wearing, she was asking for it."
I was not asking for it. But they were pretty damn short.


Other than that, the DJ was half terrible, insisting on playing some slow r&b jams or stuff like that, mixed in with some decent things like MIA, with really bad transitions. Non-transitions, more like it. It made me confident that I could do a much better job and play much better music and people would dance and have fun and shit. They played some 90's dance hits ["rhythm is a dancer," "rhythm of the night," "Mr. Vain"] that made me think of Adrian. Except people were actually dancing here. I guess because they were all drunk pushing-30 white people reminiscing on high school dances. I realized why DJs play stuff like radio-hip-hop and reggeton at bars where lots of drunk pushing-30 white people go to. Because the beat in that music is so prominent that you can actually kind of dance to it if you don't know how to dance.



Simone got twirled around by this short round 60-year-old Japanese man wearing all black, a beret and Mardi Gras beads. I think he quite fancied her.

Earlier that day, we went to a reading by Tao Lin, author of the first book I actually judged by its cover and bought and read. It is called Bed and it is a collection of short stories about depressing people who lead depressing lives. It brought me down but it had it's moments. At least it was honest. I like his poetry more.
Here is an example.

When he was reading some new poems, he said in one, "I can't tell if I like you or just want you to like me."
It made me think of my silk screening class, which I was just at an hour previous. There was a new kid who missed the first class, I guess. He was attractive in a bland sort of way. As in neutral in the face. Mostly, I liked the t-shirt he was wearing. It was one of those graphic Ts from Uniqlo and it was yellow with a colorful Buddah-cat wearing wayfarer sunglasses.
Simone has that shirt, I thought. There is a 50% chance that that is a girl shirt, I also thought.

New kid was definitely checking me out and making eyes and all that shit. I was munching on almonds, chatting on my phone with Henry who was telling me about the adventures of his latest purchase, an epilator.
New kid is still trying to make eyes with me. I feel self-conscious but at least not completely wretched like I normally do lately. So I smile back. And then I realize that he thinks I am probably reciprocating those looks and oh jeez.
I don't like him. But maybe I just want to make him like me.

This has been the basis of pretty much all the non-relationships I've been in this year, excepting for one or two. I would rather have people like me than like them. It makes the time from when I put myself in bed to when I fall asleep much more affable and pleasant.

Facebook is ruining my life. I'm thinking of getting rid of it. Also Myspace.



Don't ask me how I jumped around and used photobooth at the same. I will not tell you.

1 comment:

K-Hawk said...

you are so cute a+