Things I've Done Since Sunday

Since my Gay Pride Sunday, I've had several adventures worth shaking a stick at.

Monday was catch up on sleep night, so we will skip that one.

Tuesday was Department Party on a Boat night. It was really fun. You can read more about that at That's What SHE Said. The only thing I have to add is that I did the Hustle with my boss.

Last night, I met up with Tim and Megan at Veselka in the East Village (corner of 2nd Avenue and 9th Street - if you are in the City and want to go). Tim was there first and we waited outside in the sweltering humidity for Megan, who was having train trouble. As we were waiting, I turned to look down 2nd and this blonde with huge sunglasses walks by. I turn to Tim and we both say "That's Chloe Sevigny." Ya'll know I love me some Chloe. She is a good actress AND better yet, she dresses like crap and doesn't give a rat's ass. Check out her Fug page.

Yesterday evening was no exception. Some dark baggy dress that looked like a sack tied at the waist. It was beautiful. She was going to Village Farm Grocery across the street to get some food. Oh, I love you Ms. Sevigny.

So, we had dinner at Veselka and walked our way to Union Square to see Sandra Bernhard's one woman show: Everything Bad & Beautiful. It was really good and great to see Sandra, again (Remember that date I had and we were sitting 2 feet from her and her family). She looked good, too.

I'm a Man With Conviction

While I was walking down Ditmars Avenue, today in Astoria, Queens, someone yelled out of the passenger seat of a pick-up truck (looked like a group of construction workers) the word "fag." Since I was the only one around it had to have been directed at me.

The only thing I could think of saying in response was "Why don't you come and say that to my dick!"

I said this as the light turned green and they drove off, but I know they heard it and I saw the look on the guy's face. He was surprised I said something.

That's Me in the Corner

I came out to my lesbian cousin when I was 16 years old. It was still a hard thing to do. I was in the passenger seat of her Honda Accord continuously sighing, trying to muster up the vocalization of what I knew in my heart (and loins). I didn't tell her that night even after she prolonged going home to see if I needed more time. The next day while running errands together she tricked me into telling her by saying she had had a dream that night that I came out to her and that we went out to some gay club after and had a blast. She got out of the car to pick up some dry cleaning. She got back in and all I said was "I am."

She had told me she was a lesbian a few years earlier by dropping hints about a story run of a gay character in the newspaper daily comic For Better or For Worse and a few weeks later telling me she was going to Washington D.C. to attend the '93 March on Washington because, in fact, she was a lesbian. Well duh-, I thought.

A few months later at 17, I was telling my mother. I had gotten a book out of my high school library. It was a thin, blue hardcover. There was a drummer boy pressed in dark ink on the cover, along with the title. If I recall it was something like "A Different Drummer: Accepting Your Homosexuality" or some such. (I looked on Amazon and can't find anything close). I handed her the book. She took it and asked why I was reading it. I responded "Because, I am that way."

I was a scared seventeen year old with bad skin handing my mom a book about being gay. Exposed and raw. "No you are not" she said.

Twelve years later, she calls and asks me how my love life is. She is awesome.

Yesterday was the annual NYC Gay Pride Day Parade and Festival. All gay parades and festivals are the same. No matter where they are. This one just happens to be bigger than most.

Highlights of the day:
  • Brunch at Terrace 5 (granted it is in the Museum, it is still yummy food)
  • Gay Bavarians! Hot! Lederhosen! Slappy hand dance!
  • Frozen Margarita! (one)
  • Friends: Tim, Kevin, Jen (of That's what SHE Said fame!), Killer, Silan!
  • The Waldorf-Astoria.

Yeah, that's right, the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. One of Tim's friends had a room there, that was upgraded to a Suite - with a terrace as big as my last apartment. We took lots of cool photos and I'll post some as soon as Kevin emails them to me. "Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue."

After a while, pizza was ordered and delived to the suite. Sweet!

Kevin and Tim headed back downtown to go to The Cock. I strolled up Lexington to 60th and caught the N/W home to Astoria.

Drinking By Myself

This morning, I started out with a commute revisiting the Silent Alarm album by Bloc Party. I think it is time for a resurrection of this fantastic album.

I was in the Union Square Virgin Megastore the other night for two hours from 10:00 P.M. to 12:00 A.M. (There are no 24 Hour Grocery stores in NYC, but Music stores are open all hours of the night). I was gift shopping. Usually, I can pick an album in less than 20 minutes and be done with it, but everything I wanted to buy as the gift was really just something I wanted for me. So, I thought I would make a list. Please feel free to buy me or burn me a copy. (kinda kidding...kinda...)

  1. Danielson - Ships
  2. Jens Lekman - Oh You're So Silent, Jens
  3. Joanna Newsome - The Milk-Eyed Mender
  4. TV on the Radio - Return to Cookie Mountain
  5. Final Fantasy - He Poos Clouds

Being big fans of Rilo Kiley, I ended up getting my friend the Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins Rabbit Fur Coat album.

Back to my commute. I notice that, even though I have lint rolled them, my pants are covered in cat hair. Thanks Hoot. So, I decide that I should swing by Duane Reade to get a Lint Roller for my dilemma and also, it is a good thing to have at your desk. So, I get off at Fifth Avenue and proceed to the exit. As I am taking the stairs, I stumble. I am already holding the railing with one hand and I awkwardly heave forward and grab on with my other hand. I don't fall and I am fantastically entertained by my own trip up the stairs. I turn to see if there is anyone else around. There is. An attractive woman about my age with a huge smile - as big as mine. If I was straight it would have been opportune flirting time but I instead exclaim gayly "I'm so glad someone else was around to witness my ridiculousness!"

I think she was disappointed to figure out I am a big 'MO. This city must be full of little disappointments like that for women.

So, the Bloc Party... I thought the lyric in the song Like Eating Glass was "Like drinking by yourself, like eating glass". Today I figured out it is actually "Like drinking poison, like eating glass".

On the walk home after the subway dropped me off, I met an elderly woman in some brightly colored traditional robes. I am thinking Indian or Pakistani, but am totally not sure. Her bags were much too heavy for her and she kept putting them down, resting, picking them back up - only to put them down again. As I got closer to her, she had left two bags, walked two others about eight feet and was coming back for the other two. I unplugged my ears from the jdPod and asked her if she needed help. She gratefully accepted. I carried all her bags less than a block to her apartment building and put them down on the stoop. She shook my hand. As I turned to walk away a neighbor-woman walking her dog stopped and asked the woman who I was.

I turned around and they were both looking my way and smiling.

Things I learned today:

  1. Bloc Party put out a damn catchy album last year.
  2. The lyrics I've been singing for that year were wrong.
  3. I can crush women's dreams of finding true love in the city.
  4. I can renew a woman's confidence in men, and maybe humanity.

Are You at the Theater, Jacques?

Tuesday, I filled in as a "Drink Monitor" at the Herzog & De Meuron Artist Choice Opening Reception. "Working" the event is not unlike attending the event. The only difference is that I stand in once place and tell people they cannot take their drinks past a certain point. Everyone still comes by to see me. Everyone brings me drinks.

With my Architecture education, Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron are big names in my book. They were part of the group of big name people crammed down our throats as good Architecture. All design is subjective. However, I am a H&dM fan. Check out what wikipedia has to say about them.

I recognized Jacques Herzog right away. He walked past me and went up the escalator. He was wearing all black as all good Architects do. As he went up the escalator he picked a big wedge. Not attractive, Jacques.

Later, I saw him with whom I thought was Pierre de Meuron. I thought he was super cute. So I called my Adam my Architecture bud still in school and told him I was standing next to H&dM and De Meuron is HOT! Turns out it wasn't de Meuron but he was still very attractive. I don't think dM was there.

I also met Ryan McGinness and his wife. Awesome people. Check out his website here.

A Week in Review

Last Monday, I moved. Everything smooth. Shannon and I had moderate complaints and decided that we hadn't complained enough, so we saved it for Tuesday at work. I still feel like I didn't complain enough, so it must've been a good move. I was fully unpacked by Thursday.

Wednesday night, I had a wonderful dinner with a Volunteer and Megan at Po on Cornelia Street. It was so amazingly delicious.

Thursday night, I went to the Dada opening and got drunk with some co-workers and Volunteers. It was an interesting walk/subway ride back home with three drunk straight girls and one of their brothers "rushing" to get to the Beergarden, yet hailing every cab and not getting it, stopping for preztels and other snacks, and then one by one dropping off of the Beergarden Wagon.

Friday! Was Happy Birthday Dim Sum with Ivy Paisner. Dim Sum a Go Go in Chinatown. Yum!

Saturday morning I left for Gainesville. 7:50 a.m. flight. 2 hours in the air. Met at the airport by Kristen and Angie and 2 hour car ride home. Gainesville festivities included a haircut, Bahn Thai, bowling (ugh!), and Nacho Libre.

Sunday I was driven 2 hours back to Tampa and 2 hours in the plane later I was back in NYC!

So, that was my week. Each one deserves it's own post, but they are far to gone for that. I would have taken photos but my batteries died and KMart scammed me into paying the same amount for one battery as I do for two (my camera takes two, but did I know that before I bought the battery? No!). Fuck KMart (especially the one at Astor Place).

I am ready for work.

Zaha Hadid

Zaha Hadid is an amazing Architect. The United States should be so lucky to continue building her designs. Currently, the only built work of Hadid's is the Rosenthal Centre for Contemporary Art in Cincinnati, Ohio.

Those in New York for the next couple months can head over to the scaffold-cocooned Guggenheim Museum where the spiral is dedicated to the major exhibition of her work, built and not built. From small scale sketches to 4x10 hand-painted canvases. Models, computer renderings.

My only complaint about this show is that it is in the Guggenheim, a Museum that does not lend itself to easily viewing Architecture exhibitions.

Witness Williamsburg (Reprise)

I lament on my year in Williamsburg.

Last June, I was in the process of moving from Any-College-Town, USA to this enclave of Brooklyn across the East River from Manhattan's East Village and Lower East Side neighborhoods. Exciting times, of course, but not easy. I never thought it would be easy, so don't think I was surprised.

To begin, my month-and-a-week run of unemployment and job searching was most stressful. Applying for jobs I was overqualified for and being overlooked. Awkwardly interviewing for positions and not being called back like I was a bad date. Being offered jobs that paid less than I made in my pre-degree days in Florida. Sound familiar? It is a machine and everyone goes through it, I guess. Then like magic, I found a posting on an institution website, half-heartedly applied thinking I would never be contacted, and was contacted the next day.

But back to Williamsburg and my apartment. Roommate and I soon figured that we were not going to renew the lease and did little to make the apartment homey. After a year, I am still mostly furnitureless and I am still sleeping on an air mattress. Who wants to move all that crap? So I just didn't bother getting it.

Why did we decide not to renew the lease? I'm sure I've mentioned the reasons many times throughout the blog but where is a short list:

  1. Leaks in the roof. (Granted, they fixed them, but they did not fix the water damaged bathroom wall.
  2. Waterfall gushing leaks in the rusted steel window headers of the bedroom windows in the very weathered and damaged brick bearing wall.
  3. The floors slope in from the sides, badly.
  4. The See You Next Tuesdays that live downstairs.
  5. The filthyness that is our street.

There is so much more. Just not things to be discussed here.

Williamsburg is dirty and full of dirty people. It is overrated and overpriced.

Reseaching My New 'Hood

Here is what Wikipedia has to say about Astoria, Queens.

Map of Astoria circa 1873:

If you can read it, I'll be living on what used to be Willow Street.