Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed
Once I tied up all the ends left loose from the summer-namely, my last session at Dr. Hassett’s, my last run at Lake Scranton, my last drive to the cottage, my last family dinner at Don Pablo’s, buying a sleeping bag to use until my futon arrived at the apartment, and getting my hair cut with Grace-I felt ready to move back to New York. It was like moving to New York for the first time, really. I had my own set of keys, a landlord, a box of Becky’s old silverware, and no dorm to check into or R.A. to tolerate. I was really excited. Matt agreed to drive me, and his girlfriend was originally going to come with us but she had to bartend. Becky was able to come instead, and once the car was packed and goodbyes were said, we were off. It rained a lot that day. The highway was blanketed with a gray mist for most of the trip, and I got to see Matt smoke for the first time as he sucked on Camel Lights and trudged onward through the lousy weather. We got a little lost in New Jersey, on the way toward the Holland Tunnel, because we are used to taking the Lincoln Tunnel. We made our way down Canal Street and across the Manhattan Bridge to my neighborhood in Brooklyn. It didn’t take long to get all my crap up the two flights of stairs to Apartment 3B. We drove back over the bridge to Michael’s place in Alphabet City, where Lorena met up with us. Then we got some food and beer at a place across the street before going back. I thanked Matt and Becky, then saw them off. Pretty soon, Lo and I were smoking on the fire escape and unpacking our shit. I got that done pretty quickly and put a movie in. Our first night sleeping on the floor was really peaceful, but Lorena tossed and turned. We went to the mattress store the next day, walking through a sketchy neighborhood that seemed entirely comprised of car washers and collision repair centers. At Sleepy’s, a frighteningly enthusiastic salesman greeted us at the door and proceeded to make a deal with Lorena. People like that really fascinate me. We walked down the street and ate soul food at Soule on Fulton, even though we were intending to have brunch. It was fucking amazing. We ate cornbread, curry chicken, fried yucca, and collared greens. I haven’t had such delicious food in a while. We headed down toward the mall area, needing random junk for the apartment. Every store was such a zoo, so it was really irritating and we didn’t go home with much of anything. We got coffee at Prospect Perk, one of my favorite cafes in the neighborhood, and drank a lot of sangria back in the apartment. I got to explore Prospect Park the next day, and situate myself with a new running route. I am really obsessed with the trail there. You need to be careful not to run too close to the curb though, because I have nearly stepped on a dead rat more than once. When I go later in the day, as the sun is going down, people tend to run a lot faster as the park gets darker and darker. Monday morning, around five o’clock, Lorena woke me up and said “The Crocodile Man is dead.” We were really upset about Steve Irwin for the next few days, and Lorena kept talking about how he wasn’t meant to die. That night we ate Indian food and watched “Wife Swap,” trying to ignore the fact that we had school the next morning. The Q-train commute was really easy, and I’ve actually grown to enjoy my daily excursion into Manhattan. I get to see the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty every day on the way to school. My art class is a little annoying, but the teacher is sweet and I’m excited to delve more into the New York art world. I really love my class on ethnographic fieldwork. My professor is a little French anthropologist who is sometimes hard to understand, but really knows what she’s talking about. It’s a very interesting course so far. My journalism class had a change of professors, so I was a little disappointed not to have Tracy Dahlby. His replacement is pretty nice, but I wish the kids I go to school with weren’t such duds. I had to interview this girl from Staten Island, and we presented one another to the class. Alex’s old roommate Sari was in the class, but I think she has since dropped it. Lorena and I headed home afterward, then got coffee and sat with the owner of Prospect Perk for a bit. One of the girls across the hall and her boyfriend got robbed on their way back into the apartment, and they had to use my cell phone. Lorena was scared about our new neighborhood after that, but Sid the landlord changed the locks the next day and swore to install security cameras. I still haven’t told my parents about it, but it was a wake-up call to say the least. Lo and I stayed in and ate a lot of pizza on Friday night. The next morning, I had to get up early and head downtown for “The Big Draw”-an event sponsored by The Drawing Center in Battery Park City. It was kind of annoying to go, but I didn’t really have anything better to do on a Saturday morning. At the seaport, artists were demonstrating scrimshaw techniques, and fashioning giant ropes. My next stop was The Museum of the American Indian, which I had never been to before. It was a really beautiful place, and very active with all the children set up with easels in the rotunda. I took pictures of the merriment and browsed the craftwork displays, then ate a little lunch outside at Bowling Green toward Wall Street. I stopped at Trinity Church, which I have never been in and decided I would have to see what it’s like. I explored the cemetery outside, with its beautiful old gravestones, before heading back to Brooklyn. Alex, who lives about half a mile away, picked me up in her car to go to dinner. Lorena ate with George and Michael nearby, so we met them afterward and talked about sex for a long while. On Sunday morning, we went to Port Authority and took the crazy shuttle to IKEA in New Jersey. It was such a fucking nightmare. We still don’t have a table for the kitchen, or a couch for the living room. On the ride home, this guy called his grandmother and talked loudly about how he got paid to sit in the audience at “The People’s Court”. Everyone laughed at him. On the subway, this lady with a baby sat next to us and proceeded to strike up a conversation about IKEA with us as she took out her boob and breastfed the baby. We then had to lug all our heavy bags back to the apartment, stopping for really good coffee at Muddy Waters. Then we had lots of Italian food delivered. I could not sleep at all, because my internship was starting the next day. I arrived on time at 19 Union Square West-home of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. There were a few other interns waiting, and soon Linda came out to greet us and give us the tour. I just remember smiling a whole lot, and opening the doors for everyone. I was excited, bright eyed and bushy tailed, like a little squirrel. All the other interns are graduates, which I was unaware of. It is a big boy internship. That day I had to work with Rose in Adult Edit. She had me opening and forwarding fan mail to the home addresses of writers like Jonathan Franzen, Thomas L. Friedman, and Joan Didion. In my head, I was already writing a memoir about the hilarity of it. Rose was kind of weird-she told me to take however long I needed for lunch, but "not four hours". I took about two. I didn’t think she needed me, so I wandered around the green market outside in Union Square, and overheard the September 11 memorials in the park. There were some really awful bands playing, and they passed out lyrics for a sing-along of The Beatles’ “All You Need is Love”. I thought that was pretty ridiculous, because I guess I think you need more than love. It was really clear that night and I could see the “Eternal Light Towers” (or whatever they are called) beaming into the sky from the WTC site out of my bedroom window. Wednesday at FSG, I had to work in Subsidiary Rights with Jennie, and then down to Juvenile Lit Edit after lunch. I had to read a manuscript about this girl who moved to Tennessee and complained about it a lot. Then I got to write a really mean critique of it (likening it to a Lindsay Lohan movie) for Lisa, and I think FSG is passing on the manuscript. As they should. Phil came over Thursday to hang out and go to dinner, but I needed to watch “Survivor: Cook Islands” and watch the racial disaster unfold. Friday at FSG, I worked in Publicity for Brian and Audrey. I assembled clippings of book reviews from magazines and newspapers, then sent out manuscripts to reviewers. I did this in Laurel’s office, whose phone rang and rang-calls from important writers who she advised about CNN interviews and book signings. I was always tempted to ask “Who was that?!” every time she hung up the phone. I left early, into the rainy green market, bought some pumpkin bread, and headed down to Canal Street. I huddled under the awnings of a souvenir shop, overwhelmed by Prada knockoffs and out-of-towners, waiting for Alex to pull up to the curb. We were driving back home for the weekend, she to see Nelson and me to see Abby, who surprised the family by flying in from Florida. We had insane traffic, and the rain never really let up. I could never drive like she drives. We had to meet Alex’s mother at The Crossings, where she finished some shopping and we ate sandwiches. Alex dropped me off on Columbia Street around ten, and I headed inside to the open arms of my family. I didn’t know I missed them so much. Basically, I ate a lot all weekend (Colarusso’s pizza, Grandpa’s chicken, burgers from The Glider, and Fresno brunch) and watched a lot of “Wife Swap” with Grace. My aunt Mem got a new dog, and I really love him. His name is Jazz, and he’s a collie mix that is always happy. I skipped my internship on Monday, which was okay, because Alex was unsure of when she was driving back. I ended up taking a bus back at 4:45 this very morning. I like having to get up for things when it is still dark out. I had a lot of shit to carry back to Brooklyn before heading to class at ten. During the day, I got a voicemail from Kim at Rough Guides of Penguin Group-a travel guide company I called all summer about internships. She offered an internship opportunity in the imprint marketing department. Paid. Fourteen hours a week. From September 25 until December 1. I really don’t know what to do with that. Decision like this are for adults, not dumb little kids like me. And I can’t stop dreaming of weird shit like little Sasquatches and losing all my teeth.
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