Like anyone cares? Fader does. Although you probably don’t; there goes that goshdarned self-deprecating humor. But since I’m doing this new time management “working” thing, I gotta do something on my breaks. I figured out how to modify my internet usage: on my breaks from “working”, I do my usual shit. Instead of working during my breaks…let’s have a party for expandable posts! Sometimes I really hate myself.Walgreens, Union Square: Famous dude behind me looking at men’s haircolor while I looked for an absurdly long time at longlasting lipgloss. People came up behind me and were like “Are you on MTV? I love you!” and he looked disgusted.
You look more asian than usual: “You look really good, kind of€¦Asian. Like more so than usual.”
“Really?!” I shriek. I give Alex and John marshmallow eggs I bought from Walgreens. John immediately wolfs it down “Oh good, I haven’t had dinner”.
National Arts Club: “I love sitting here”, I say, as I sit down on the bench in elevator to the National Arts Club. The elevator girl wears pearls and I’m hideously gaudy under the medieval lights. John and Alex laugh. I hold onto John for support because I’m nervous.
Saving Face: “What is that”? John asks.
“Antibiotics” I lie.
“OH, that reminds me I have to take mine”. Takes out anti-biotic from his pocket. “What’s that for?”
“My face” he says.
“I need to take something for my face.” I say.Sharing food: I pop some of the Vicodin from my mouth into John’s mouth, because he says “that wasn’t that much”, and he’s so shocked that I start spitting from laughter, spraying the Vicodin that’s in my mouth all over the place. Alex said it was kind of sweet.
I’m struck by an image: “like€¦those€¦animals, feeding each other from their own mouths, bear cubs€¦”
“It’s birds, I think it’s birds you’re thinking of”, Alex says.
Conquer: “You’re over me now, that you’ve infiltrated and known my social circles”.
“I’m the opposite of over you” Alex says.
“We’ll always be a step behind you, Suzie”.
B’s butt goes by. It is encased in black stretch lycra.
Alex day: “It’s Alex day! It’s Alex day. This guy, has just had his script approved, by NYU, and he just got an advertising job! This is Alex!” (to some foreign dude with blond hair and white pants snapping pics of us)
Real friends: “I don’t want this to be a 6 month thing.
Years from now, when we’re 50€”“
“We’ll be on a porch, farting together€”“
Me and Song collapse at the image.
“I want to be friends with you, a real friend; and I’m afraid I’m going to scare you away”.
“You’re talking about me–the original stalker.”
Nominalism: relating to or consisting of a name or names
“Do you love your parents?” we ask the bartender.
“Well, it’s a nominal thing”
“What does nominal mean?”
I mean, it’s a formality–nominal wasn’t the right word”.
“I think you meant to say formality but nominal is also the right word”.
“Nominal means number”
“No, nominal can also mean name”.
“Oh, ok, nominal then”.
“Where did you get your hair done?”
Sodomy: “Did you say porking?”
“I didn’t say porking, I said poking”
“He said porking”
“What’s the fuck? Why would you say porking? There’s nothing wrong with sodomy.”
“Believe me, you don’t want to go through that. It’s so painful”.
“Uh, look who you’re talking to. I’ve done it like so many times!”
“So many times?!”
I catch myself. “Well, meaning, more than once”.
“Well like maybe more than ten times”.
“Ass-fucking is the new French Kiss.”
Fat: “Fat is back”
“Fat is the new black” I say.
I hate that phrase, the new black. I was saying “the new orange” for awhile but that got old.
Mammary Manners: “I think about breasts all the time”
“Not they themselves, but the way the are, under clothes. There’s something about cloth, over breasts€¦”
“But you have them” Alex says.
“Not really”. I think about a particular director of the Accompanied Library’s breasts, which are flabbergasting, tan and lithe underneath an opened black blouse. That cinched waist, and that perfectly displayed, worked-out arse. I blatantly check out “the butt”.
John says “Which butt? What butt are you talking about?” I don’t think he understands.
I can picture myself being with a woman like that, a world-dominator with sharp cheekbones and blond hair curling around her neck.
Where is love: When Song comes in during the reading , Alex gets up to greet her. I don’t listen at all during the reading although I am adoring the author’s voice and personality. I have a feeling the book is good but I will never read it. I am totally charmed by the Q & A, there are some nice questions in some patented British voices although some girl actually says Huit Close to reference Sartre. Fuck that. Song looks back at me and winks. I think to myself that winking is something I should do. I keep catching myself with my mouth hanging open. It’s the Vicodin.
A Way to Greet: When me and Song go up to each other to meet and greet we open our mouths and fake enthusiasm, with our arms outstretched.
“This is how we should always greet each other,” I say and we laugh and hug each other enthusiastically, which feels deliciously antithetical to the stiff, super-clothed, heavily-accessorized folks in the brown room and the Naomi-Campbell messy hair faux-boho-Greek-tragedy look that’s wafting behind us.
I touch Song’s creamy black dress and gold belt: “Gorgues, gorgues”.
She tells me “You look really good too!”
I realize she’s never said this before. John keeps saying that I look particularly Asian, in the the ultra-flowery suitjacket my mother got me and the bright red lipstick on, with my hair pinned up in the back so all the rogue bits flared out on the sides–kinda geisha-like I suppose. Polka-dot bra and white shirt with black tasseled belt and black booties.
Brooke said “I didn’t recognize you, the suitjacket, the hair–(she motions all over)–different! I changed my hair too!” She motions at her own hair.
“Really?” I say, quizzical.
“Yeah, it was down to here”. I have no remembrance of this.
Mammary Manners !!: I ask Song, by the bar, after me and Alex talk about mammaries (he said he used to not like it when they hang a lot, but now he does) whether I have a chance at all to be considered a woman, without having big boobs. She says of course I do, that in this day and age we’re pansexual, and everything is attractive.
I say “But you’re like, proto-woman. And I’m proto-andro”
She says “No, you’re beautiful.”
John tries to burn a 100 dollar bill: Brooke looks at him. He says “Hi Brooke!”
Attractive bartender kisses Song on the mouth when we go back up to get my forgotten phone. I say “you’re so lucky” and she says “shut up”. He texts her all weekend. She doesn’t respond, she has three boys to tend to, like small delicate flowers. During out 5 hour phone call she tells me that the teeth are just a preview of the dick. This has nothing to do with the bartender though, but more to do with delicate flowers.
Bringing back the cameltoe after I saw Back to the Future: In the elevator, on the way out of the library, me and Song check out the cameltoe that’s occurring in my stretch pants. “That’s disgusting” she says. We laugh and try to fix it, but secretly I become very depressed at the state of my thighs. So depressed I almost leave cakeshop later on when we get out of a cab and nobody wants to pay 6$ to get in. As usual, I go downstairs, just to see if we can, and we do, and the Vesties are playing, and they’re silly.
Sore eyes: Rachel pops up out of Cakeshops downstairs. “You’re a sight for sore eyes!” she says.
Where is Love !!: “I’m interested in Love”, Song slurs. “That’s the only thing I’m interested in.”
“I don’t know what love is” I say. I’m too drunk to stop my clichÃ©’s.
“I love you”. She says. Or something like that. It was innocuous in the bathroom as we talked.
The Crew: “I love you man” Alex said. “Me, John, and you. I feel like we could be a crew. I’m not interested in superficial friendships. We have something deeper. I feel like I could really talk to you. Or at least, on the verge. Not quite there yet, but we will be.”
The reason why I like you:
I can see the DJ coming up behind us, smiling awkwardly.
“The reason why I like you is because of your looks.” I tell Alex.
“The reason why I like you is because you’re smart.” Alex tells me.
“Fuck you, ok, we’re even.” I hug Alex.
Me and the DJ talk and I discover he’s a swimming instructor.
“That means he has a great body!”: Song says, and I say “I don’t care.
If I had your beauty: “I don’t know why you’re always saying how beautiful I am. I feel like I’m mediocre” Song says. We’re squashed on the couch in the basement of cakeshop.
“We’re like Beauty and the Beast”, I say.
“But Beauty is so easy”, Song says. “If I had your intellect.”
“I don’t have intellect. I have a few definitions I got from doing a couple years of philosophy. “
Alex comes along and smothers Song. He doesn’t argue with us, although he listens.
Leaning on John’s arm in a cab ‘cus I can’t sit up: I’m in the cab with John and then my body remembers nausea, which echoes my instant memory of the dentist telling me not to drink for ten days. After puking, I looked in the mirror to see a terrible sight. My eyeliner had away from my eyes and my face revealed trauma€”animallike war, although with a pathetic history of bourgeois patois.