march 1 2 3 4...5
last night i met s downtown at the jay st a. she was sitting on a silver bar wearing a red hat. i saw her as the train was arriving, i was too far and too shy to yell. i walked towards her slowly, weaving my way through the crowd. i made no effort to rush and no attempt to catch the train. i dont like to chase machines anymore.
s sat balancing herself, pretending to read a magazine.
she looked up to watch the train arrive and depart. she was pissed off. she sat perched like an angry bird; some chick from the some other time. she looked as though she had too much to do and so above it all to be sitting underground for this long. beautiful and bored, shes got a short temper, dont ruffle her feathers.
when i called her name she looked over to me, stone cold and obviously annoyed.
i apologized and told her how i walked right past her and that she was right, taking the bus was a bad idea. i was late. im always late. i fucked up. im sorry. i was high and tired. im sorry. im always sorry. but although i was feeling guilty and anxious when i arrived we, as usual, had a grand time. and if you want im still sorry.
we went to tribecca. a pop up gallery hosted by some san fransico spot. bryce and kyle were spinning records and making music.the art was unimpressive yet, bright and pretty. the space was cool, a happening worth being at. it felt warm and safe. no man made heaven or opium den, and nothing to make you fall in love but there was a general air of light hearts and pastel moods. it felt good to be inside a warm space of color out of the cold wasteland of lower manhattan.
the gallery was on one of those phantom nyc blocks that no one has ever heard of or if they have they have no idea where it is and what crosses it.
we didnt stay long...
...leaving the gallery we were suddenly surrounded by a possee of Asian dudes. they invited us too a bar with free boze. for some reason we went... it was so odd and yet enjoyable...
it was somewhere in soho or maybe the west village, i dont remember. it was full of squares, and the dj played terrible music.
oh the west side... that part of downtown, it makes you remember the 90s, and the proximity of jersey...its so ironic too because its where the city abandons the grid, yet so full of squares.
oh so so much silly nonesense...
...so much i cant write it all now.
and then...tonight...
didnt go to dumbo.
drank bordeaux with chris
made a new friend.
her names dina, she plays guitar,
we wrote a song and smoked tea.
she says she needs more nature...
i said "we all do."
shes from the country. nothing like this city.
not this country.
nina grew up in croacia, left 6 years ago. she lived in london for a spell and has been in ny for 4 years. she worked as a model living in time square and now shes a barista living in the ghetto of brooklyn.
she wants to make a robot out of boxes to leave on a stoop for a girl she once loved.
she wears terrible pants and has beautiful freckles.
her music made me want to cry.
i asked her where she learned to play. she told me the story of a man with no legs, his name she could not remember.
this is ...
not the end....
but now, im sleeeeepy.
s sat balancing herself, pretending to read a magazine.
she looked up to watch the train arrive and depart. she was pissed off. she sat perched like an angry bird; some chick from the some other time. she looked as though she had too much to do and so above it all to be sitting underground for this long. beautiful and bored, shes got a short temper, dont ruffle her feathers.
when i called her name she looked over to me, stone cold and obviously annoyed.
i apologized and told her how i walked right past her and that she was right, taking the bus was a bad idea. i was late. im always late. i fucked up. im sorry. i was high and tired. im sorry. im always sorry. but although i was feeling guilty and anxious when i arrived we, as usual, had a grand time. and if you want im still sorry.
we went to tribecca. a pop up gallery hosted by some san fransico spot. bryce and kyle were spinning records and making music.the art was unimpressive yet, bright and pretty. the space was cool, a happening worth being at. it felt warm and safe. no man made heaven or opium den, and nothing to make you fall in love but there was a general air of light hearts and pastel moods. it felt good to be inside a warm space of color out of the cold wasteland of lower manhattan.
the gallery was on one of those phantom nyc blocks that no one has ever heard of or if they have they have no idea where it is and what crosses it.
we didnt stay long...
...leaving the gallery we were suddenly surrounded by a possee of Asian dudes. they invited us too a bar with free boze. for some reason we went... it was so odd and yet enjoyable...
it was somewhere in soho or maybe the west village, i dont remember. it was full of squares, and the dj played terrible music.
oh the west side... that part of downtown, it makes you remember the 90s, and the proximity of jersey...its so ironic too because its where the city abandons the grid, yet so full of squares.
oh so so much silly nonesense...
...so much i cant write it all now.
and then...tonight...
didnt go to dumbo.
drank bordeaux with chris
made a new friend.
her names dina, she plays guitar,
we wrote a song and smoked tea.
she says she needs more nature...
i said "we all do."
shes from the country. nothing like this city.
not this country.
nina grew up in croacia, left 6 years ago. she lived in london for a spell and has been in ny for 4 years. she worked as a model living in time square and now shes a barista living in the ghetto of brooklyn.
she wants to make a robot out of boxes to leave on a stoop for a girl she once loved.
she wears terrible pants and has beautiful freckles.
her music made me want to cry.
i asked her where she learned to play. she told me the story of a man with no legs, his name she could not remember.
this is ...
not the end....
but now, im sleeeeepy.