Farewell Summer
Summer. Summer. Wait. Wait. Don't go! No, really! I'm not done with you. It's the end of August and the summer seems to be coming to a close. Back to school commercials. School supplies sales. Fall fashions are out and the shorts and tank tops are on the sale racks of your favorite department stores. Once again, I feel as if I didn't take full advantage of another summer in New York. Did I go to the beach enough? How about Fire Island? What about a water park? This year, I weaseled my way out of purchasing an Empire Passport. I used my family's pass instead. I think I went to the beach more times this year than last. Field 5. Nude beach. Robert Moses Sate Park. There's something about driving over two long bridges to get to the ocean. If you have the right song on the radio, you can feel invincible. Surprisingly Frank Ocean has given me those feelings. I also enjoy vibing to Lemonade while cruising to the beach with the windows rolled down. They have become a staple in my summer soundtracks. I think they made it on to a playlist for the last three summers. The company you keep is important too. Make sure you find swimmers. Nothing feels more amazing than swimming in the Atlantic with a friend or lover. Riding waves into shore. To have someone to swim out far with, splashing around. The people on the beach getting smaller and smaller with every stroke. It feels good to escape that world, that world on the shore. Sometimes, it feels good to not be able to touch the ground with your feet. It feels good to feel the emptiness, the void, the depth of the world, of the ocean. It feels comforting to sometimes feel how insignificant you are in this huge body of water. The meanings you desire on the shore, on earth mean nothing out here in these currents, in this tide. All of those anxieties and pangs are so trivial when you're out there in the deep blue sea. When you grow tired of swimming all you have to do is lie on your back and float. Become buoyant with the waves and current of the sea. Just let go. Breathe slowly, holding your breath at times. To be able to share these moments with someone else is rare. Especially as adults. When you're a child, you swim with friends all of the time. I remember bonding with so many friends in the ocean, in the swimming pools of our youths. As you get older, you lose your swimming buddies. You can't lose those inhibitions like you used to. So, when you find a partner in swimming crime now, you'll cherish these moments through fall, winter and spring. You'll need them when the leaves start falling and turning brown...
This year I have a boy to accompany me to the beach. He sits in my passenger seat. My left hand on the steering wheel and my right hand on his thigh. At times, he takes my hand and puts it back on the steering wheel, because he's nervous the wind might wipe us off our feet/tires. Other times he slides his fingers over my knuckles and everything feels aligned. I see him wearing shorts for the first time. I've officially touched his leg and kissed his lips during every season now. He looks good in shorts. His legs are moderately hairy and it feels good on my fingertips and palm. Our first outing to the beach, his true neuroses shined. Layers and layers of sunblock applied multiple times during the day. Let's not forget to mention how he shakes the sand off his body while IN my car.
Summer is the only time I don't hate Long Island. It makes sense to live on an island in the summer. Sand, oceans and bbqs in backyards with green grass, swimming pools and all the pestering mosquitoes you could ask for. I don't mind any of it, with the exception of the mosquitos. But there's something about hot summer nights in the city. Brooklyn feels like summer camp. People walking their dogs without shirts on. People are barefoot, and laying on the grass. Manhattan is a sweaty swamp. Walking down Broadway and feeling the cold air rush out of all the stores feels so good. I spent many days in dark movie theaters this summer. There was one week, I felt I was at a film festival, I saw so many movies. The Avengers (yes!). Magic Mike (twice!). Savages (sexy!). Chernobyl Diaries (yuck!). Killer Joe (killer!). Kicking and Screaming (Noah Baumbach and Parker Posey at BAM!). Oh, so many movies. I wonder where I got all the money to see all of these movies. How many midnight showings did I watch in Times Square? Too many. But when you're a vampire like me, you must make comprises. Hanging out with Mean Girls on Fire Island, watching them all smoke weed with a random in the Meat Rack. No panic attacks for me this year, on an island off an island. Cruel Intentions in McCarren Park and still remembering most of Sarah Michelle Gellar's lines. Meeting Lara the fashionista for the first time. Hedda Lettuce really kicks off the summer and Gay Pride for me in June when she does Interactive Mommie Dearest. Lisa Lampanelli was even there and had The Boy cackling. I think it was a joke about lesbians. Lauren graced us with her Portlandian presence that night as well. Getting sweaty at a Japandroids show in Williamsburg. Eating pizza at Roberta's for the first time, attempting to avoid a nervous breakdown. In the wine store around the corner, the fire alarm was speaking to us and I saw a squirrel run up a tree. Or was it a rat? I can't remember. We make out in your lesbian mobile, I mean your Subura on dark streets in Queens. Unexpected picnic in the park around the block from your apartment. Vegan Italian food. Garlic all over my backseat. Nude beach adventures. Quite a few scary men following us into the ocean. You always telling me to lower the music. On the beach or in the car. Your pre-recorded monologues and sound bytes. All you have to do is hit "play" and you go on and on and on, telling me a story I've already heard six times. It's adorable.
Icona Pop's glowstick dance party at Glasslands. You said hello to them on the sidewalk and they tweeted at you later on. That sublease in Williamsburg and that breakfast at Roebling Tea Room. The apartment with the two most friendliest cats on the planet and the dog that seems to vanish into thin air. Cute roommate who loves music from Sweden. He went to the Deer Tracks show at Piano's we were supposed to go to the night before. No one knows who the Deer Tracks are! Armpit hair showing. Bedroom felt like a sauna. Teddy. Jack. Bruce. Together again at Robert Moses beach. Dress up in the Kmart at Astor Place. Scored huge when Gabrielle found that Melissa Etheridge shirt when we went thrifting. Torrential downpour on the way to Sydney Wayser. I quickly was reminded why I hate Joe's Pub. BBQs in Coram. Wet Hot American Summer in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Paul Rudd. Amy Poehler. David Wain. Michael Showalter are all there. Sleepovers with MSN in Ditmas Park. Stuffing my face with Indian food at 2am. Ex-boyfriend meeting current boyfriend. The last season of Damages. Heart to heart on a couch in 3B. Felt really awkward seeing Magic Mike with Jenna and a sea of middle-aged women who thought they were at a bachelorette party for someone's third marriage. New Japandroids record starts the summer off right. It's where former emo/hardcore kids go to feel nostalgic for the early 2000s. G's vegan food stand debuts in Brooklyn! Heirloom Vegan Eatery. Wishing Oz a happy birthday on the rooftop of a Bushwick apartment building. Trust is playing from somewhere. Catching up on Breaking Bad, but not in time for the season premiere of the current season. Overnight shifts and lots of sick days. Lots of summer rain. Watched fireworks from afar on Gay Pride. Still counting how many times we hear "212" while out and about. Introducing The Boy to Blue Bottle coffee. Joachim Trier's new film "Oslo, August 31st" at the IFC Center. In that tiny theater. Devastating 24 hours. Arguing on sixth avenue in the west village because that seems to be where I always seem to argue with all my boyfriends. Heatwaves. I have to give up hot coffee for iced and it's not the same. I don't feel the caffeine running through my body when it's not hot. Todd Solondz's Dark Horse. Selma Blair being amazing. You wanna blow job? My little brother and sister asking me to play "Bubblegum Bitch" without saying bitch. Meeting Marina and the Diamonds on the rooftop of the Mondrian hotel in SoHo. Drinking Four Loko in my car outside of Santos before a Kitty Pryde show. Getting Taco Bell at 3am more times than I care to admit. Swimming in the ocean with a native Hawaiian.
Seeing Fiona Apple perform at the Paramount in Seattle. The Pacific Northwest is stingy with their air conditioning. Vegan Drinks at Fontana's. Vegan pulled pork sliders. iamamiwhoami played the mysterious card for so long I forgot they existed and dropped an album in June. It's actually good. Cher Lloyd takes over the radio. I prefer it over Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe." A new Amy Sherman-Palladino tv show that doesn't know what direction its going in. I got whiplash from the Cyclone. I can't think or be in Coney Island without thinking about Lana Del Rey. Gloria Gaynor told the crowd what a "cover" is and the Village People had dudes in the crowd jumping up and down like a lunatic. I flew to Colorado to hang out with Gillian and Tony for a few days. I'm sick the whole time and sleep hours and hours. Admitted into the ER. Two women hovered over me and gave me three shots at once. Two in my butt and one in my arm. They leave the room immediately after injecting me with things and I squirm and squirm in the hospital room wondering why it hurts so much. Some court show is on the tv mumbling something about car washes. Celestial Seasonings tour. I get yelled at for taking a picture in the factory. Teabagging. We attempt to go tubing down a river with major rapids but our tubes are too small and all we got were skinned up knees and shins and broken sunglasses. Bret Easton Ellis' The Canyons starts filming and Lindsay Lohan makes it through. Not knowing what prairie dogs are. Blue Velvet references on Bunheads. Only 15 minutes away from the Colorado shooting and waking up not realizing what happened and why I received ten text messages asking if I was okay.
I miss the Robyn party at Public Assembly. "The Idler Wheel" on repeat. Annual Seattle trip happens. Capitol Hill Block Party. Phantogram. Blouse. Azealia Banks gets annoying. Seattle. Seattle. Seattle. Twin Shadow is great. He makes a joke about hearing Pearl Jam when he stepped off the plane into the airport. Then on my way home, I hear Pearl Jam as well. Members only underground 80s industrial club. Everyone is smoking cigarettes. They dance like Stevie Nicks. Grimes and Blood Diamonds play "Phone Sex" which has been my anthem all summer and I feel like I'm the only one who knows the song. I can always count on Alex to keep me up to date with sci-fi. He takes me to see Prometheus and I enjoy it much more than I imagined. We drive around Seattle and trade iPods and iPhones for music. He loves all of my emo playlists. He went for a walk listening to one and almost started crying. Caffé Vita. Vivace. Porchlight. Veggie dogs in front of Neumos. Try to get into the Diplo show. Rancho Bravo and lots of food trucks. The Social is social. The Space Needle is orange. I never make it to Pike Place Market. Sleeping on couches then crawling into bed with A. The La La boys are in Anacortes. Watching anime I've never heard of before while A falls asleep sitting up. Boys falling out of taxis. Neighbours one weeknight. IHOP adventures with boys from last year and the internet. Michael Fassbender becomes my favorite robot in film. Long walks through Capitol Hill. Large pile of ants. Psychologically damaged bottoms. Great noodle place and a business plan. Driving barefoot. Not watching one frame of the summer Olympics.
Joan Jett in Coney Island. Grimalidi's. Grimaldi's again. Meeting the infamous Jackie. Sigur Rós in Prospect Park. Cute baristas in Ditmas Park flirting with us. Ordering things off the menu I can't pronounce. Pool party on Long Island. Celebrity Big Brother in the UK. Short shorts. Not so short shorts. Accidentally wearing sandals in Manhattan. Contributing writer for PopBytes. Going through pictures in Ryan's attic. The lost Muse photos are there. Vicodin. Sudafed. Whiskey. Shock Top. 4th of July spent in Montauk. Where's Emily Thorne? We build a fire on the beach. Friends ditch us for food and swimming pools. Falling asleep during the car ride home in a thunderstorm while country music is playing on the radio. I hear chatter but it's incomprehensible. Barefoot on pavement. Gregg Araki's Nowhere party I wished I went to. Slumber parties on Long Island. Big Ang. The xx album leaks. Marina and the Diamonds at Webster Hall. Too many anniversaries in August. Watched Philadelphia for the first time. Hungover from your Lost in Translation karaoke night. It was your birthday and I spent more money than I had. Candle 79 brunch an Dekalb Market. Beer gardens galore. Coolers of PBRs and Shock Tops. A bottle of Jameson hidden from view. Queens backyard party. Veggie burgers and meeting more of your friends. I like Smashing Pumpkins girl. Tea parties underwater in hotel swimming pools we are not staying at. Making out in your bedroom. Meeting Sue Ellen the kitten. Lana Del Rey's "God Bless America" mixtape. Washing down Adderalls. Dinner parties at G's house. G's mother tells G this: "I think Bruce and I fell in love the first time we met, but not boyfriend girlfriend love...our souls connected." I nearly died, my heart skipped a beat or two.
The LA Complex. Finally watching Dirty Girl. The Real Housewives of NYC. Gaelen and friends feeding chocolate-covered strawberries to the "dolphins" in the swimming pool. Sitting on a plane, listening to The xx's new song "Angels" and almost bursting with emotions next to a cute dude. Gillian getting offended when tourists in her hometown said she looked like she was "from here," meaning Colorado. Getting hit on by the girl working at the liquor store while buying bottles of Skinnygirl cocktails. She dressed like my girlfriends did in high school. Best friends who live on the opposite coast not having close friends to talk to and feeling a bit lonely. That 20 minute tornado warning for Long Island. You singing in Grimes' shrill voice every time we listen to "Phone Sex." Kidnapping you for a week and leaving the city in the dust. Meet Twitter celebrities IRL. Falling asleep to the Katie Holmes horror movie about children's teeth. Printing out birthday letters and mixtape playlists at Carrie's house. She had coffee already brewing for me. I introduce her to Marina and we listen to Of Monsters and Men. Empire Records in McCarren. Hearing the new Bat for Lashes record at Electric Lady Studios in Greenwich Village.
Labor Day weekend means we wish the summer good bye while on Fire Island. This year was like the three years before but without my usual chaperones. It felt strange playing leader and getting everyone and everything together. Boys are smoking bowls in my backseat. I really enjoy the smell of weed. I really enjoy the idea of getting high. But I know it is only panic panic panic for me. J makes us miss the ferry. But we had to fill bellies anyway. The boy working the parking lot near the Sayville ferries is getting yelled at by his superior while we wait in line to park. His superior must be a vampire because he is holding a giant black umbrella over his head to deflect the sun from hitting his pores. He jokes with us. MM takes it literally. We get a sweet spot dedicated for the handicapped, thanks to how small my car is. We learned from our mistake last time and found a seat in the middle on the top deck of the boat to avoid getting splashed. Lots of leathery tanned skin with bad tattoos up here. A lesbian has a faded rose on her hand. The gay in front of them has a tribal sun on the center of his back. MM is telling me that Kirsten Dunst is a resident of Germany and not the United States. For some reason The Help is always mentioned when all of us are together. The Boy is stoned and is all over me. I'm drinking a PBR on the ferry. We marvel at how some gay guys have absolutely no hair on their bodies. There were two of them sitting a little behind us without their shirts on. I'm not into it. I'll take my cub over anyone.
We step off the ferry and there are so many queers in Cherry Grove. Aging drag queens. It takes forever to walk a few hundred feet. We end up going to Cherries. It looks like the DJ is sleeping while spinning. The music is awful. There's J with a crew. His hug is barely a hug. Z tells us a story about how J tried to pick him up in a thrift store in Brooklyn. It sounds like fiction. It would make for a great hipster romance. "Where did you guys meet?," an acquaintance asks you after you introduce them to your boyfriend. "Oh, we met in a thrift store in Williamsburg." It's too perfect. Z declined. There's a stocky emo boy behind the bar and I realize he was a former cuddle buddy on Long Island. I can't keep this information to myself, despite just having a conversation with two people about how I shouldn't share these types of things. We finish our drinks and walk over to the Ice Palace. Vodka Red Bulls. I'm already feeling good and I don't want to push myself so MM and I take a break from alcohol. It's fun to people watch out here. We admire all of the horrible tattoos, take photos. The Boy got a picture of a girl who had the outline of Long Island tattooed on her.
Lesbians ordering mudslides and being aggressive and elbowing my friends. I'm standing in a queue as if I'm on the west coast because the dude in front of me is from the west coast. The bartender pretends not to understand the concept of a cup of water versus a bottle of water. This is where things get blurry. We find some chairs on the other side of the Ice Palace. We rest our feet there. A remix of "212" comes on and The Boy and I run to the dance floor. The DJ follows it with that kiki song and I want to cry. How about "Shady Love" instead? Azealia is on that track! The Boy and I have been tracking 212's prominence in gay bars in New York for almost a year now. It's almost become a going out staple. It's getting dark but we can't leave because I want to meet The Australian I know off of Twitter. I also want to run into Tattooed Muscle Daddy. Twitter implodes when all of us are hanging out and meeting in person for the first time. AFG is so animated when talking about Buffy and it makes me super happy. Joss Whedon love is everywhere. I get frowned upon when I tell everyone I haven't watched all of Angel. The Australian is hard to keep close, he's always wandering off somewhere. Walking through the Meat Rack turns into walking on the beach. I hate walking on the beach, it makes the walk feel so much longer.
We make it to the Pines in one piece. Dancing ensues. But the music is just one beat over and over and over and over again. I yearn for pop songs. It seems everything and everyone is making out. The pool looks sad. It's a dark blue and all of the tubes and other floatation pool things are huddled in one corner. We go upstairs, still no good music. I order a beer and The Boy and I find a quiet spot on the balcony overlooking where the Pavilion used to stand. At some point we try to use an elevator. A reindeer walks by near the boardwalk path. Huuuuge antlers and he was only three feet away. We walk back through the Meat Rack to Cherry Grove. I let other people lead again and we're stuck walking through sand. High-tops are not proper footwear for sand. Doll heads as lawn ornaments. We return to the Ice Palace. Everyone is fading. Some are fading more than others. Over-priced pizza, water...let's catch the next ferry. It's still not cold, I imagined the night to cool down. Perfect summer night. Someone explains to me what a blue moon actually is. We all part ways except for my crew who are sleeping over. It's early, in New York City time. 2am. But we started this drunken affair at 4:15. It makes sense for us to wind down. It doesn't stop us from collecting our thoughts, charging our phones and uploading pictures to Instagram. Too many vodka Red Bulls keeps me from falling asleep, even with cuddles with The Boy. I don't think my parent's waterbed is helping either. Swoosh. In the morning I ask The Boy to brew a pot of coffee. We start watching Celebrity Big Brother waiting for the other boys to rise. One by one they wake. We all pour ourselves a cup of coffee. Z drinking his black. I feel as if we talk more and more with every sip, the caffeine coursing through our bodies. Realize MM and I are going to the same Bon Iver show at Radio City at the end of the month. Conversations about Spotify and licensing of music, a mediated world, the un(reality) of celebrity and fame, Bon Iver's Grammy speech. I take everyone to my favorite diner. I'm not sure they are impressed. Everything is subjective. It's cloudy out and there's a slight chill in the air. I feel as if summer is really over. I see a boy trying to climb up a fence outside the diner window. It's his last summer adventure before school starts the next day. I think about how I have nothing to look forward to this fall. No more college. No more papers. No more novels. I feel slightly depressed about it. The Boy is so quiet and barely eats his omelet. Perhaps he is thinking the same things I'm thinking. I can't believe we're in the month of September already. Summer really is gone.
My memory jogs, lapses and forgets. This is written to remember. To remember I lived the summer of 2012.
01. Twin Shadow- Five Seconds
02. Mark Foster + A-Track + Kimbra- Warrior
03. Icona Pop- I Love It
04. Lana Del Rey- Marilyn Monroe
05. Marina and the Diamonds- Radioactive
06. Purity Ring- Belispeak
07. Crystal Castles- Plague
08. Blood Diamonds (feat. Grimes)- Phone Sex
09. Paul Banks- The Base
10. Lemonade- Softkiss
11. Goldroom (feat. Chela)- Fifteen
12. iamamiwhoami- kill
13. How to Dress Well- Ocean Floor For Everything
14. Ellie Goulding- High For This (The Weeknd Cover)
15. Frank Ocean- Thinkin Bout You
16. The xx- Angels
17. MSMR- Hurricane
18. Fiona Apple- Left Alone
19. Cold Specks- Blank Maps
20. Orion- In The End
DOWNLOAD PLAYLIST HERE
This year I have a boy to accompany me to the beach. He sits in my passenger seat. My left hand on the steering wheel and my right hand on his thigh. At times, he takes my hand and puts it back on the steering wheel, because he's nervous the wind might wipe us off our feet/tires. Other times he slides his fingers over my knuckles and everything feels aligned. I see him wearing shorts for the first time. I've officially touched his leg and kissed his lips during every season now. He looks good in shorts. His legs are moderately hairy and it feels good on my fingertips and palm. Our first outing to the beach, his true neuroses shined. Layers and layers of sunblock applied multiple times during the day. Let's not forget to mention how he shakes the sand off his body while IN my car.
Summer is the only time I don't hate Long Island. It makes sense to live on an island in the summer. Sand, oceans and bbqs in backyards with green grass, swimming pools and all the pestering mosquitoes you could ask for. I don't mind any of it, with the exception of the mosquitos. But there's something about hot summer nights in the city. Brooklyn feels like summer camp. People walking their dogs without shirts on. People are barefoot, and laying on the grass. Manhattan is a sweaty swamp. Walking down Broadway and feeling the cold air rush out of all the stores feels so good. I spent many days in dark movie theaters this summer. There was one week, I felt I was at a film festival, I saw so many movies. The Avengers (yes!). Magic Mike (twice!). Savages (sexy!). Chernobyl Diaries (yuck!). Killer Joe (killer!). Kicking and Screaming (Noah Baumbach and Parker Posey at BAM!). Oh, so many movies. I wonder where I got all the money to see all of these movies. How many midnight showings did I watch in Times Square? Too many. But when you're a vampire like me, you must make comprises. Hanging out with Mean Girls on Fire Island, watching them all smoke weed with a random in the Meat Rack. No panic attacks for me this year, on an island off an island. Cruel Intentions in McCarren Park and still remembering most of Sarah Michelle Gellar's lines. Meeting Lara the fashionista for the first time. Hedda Lettuce really kicks off the summer and Gay Pride for me in June when she does Interactive Mommie Dearest. Lisa Lampanelli was even there and had The Boy cackling. I think it was a joke about lesbians. Lauren graced us with her Portlandian presence that night as well. Getting sweaty at a Japandroids show in Williamsburg. Eating pizza at Roberta's for the first time, attempting to avoid a nervous breakdown. In the wine store around the corner, the fire alarm was speaking to us and I saw a squirrel run up a tree. Or was it a rat? I can't remember. We make out in your lesbian mobile, I mean your Subura on dark streets in Queens. Unexpected picnic in the park around the block from your apartment. Vegan Italian food. Garlic all over my backseat. Nude beach adventures. Quite a few scary men following us into the ocean. You always telling me to lower the music. On the beach or in the car. Your pre-recorded monologues and sound bytes. All you have to do is hit "play" and you go on and on and on, telling me a story I've already heard six times. It's adorable.
Icona Pop's glowstick dance party at Glasslands. You said hello to them on the sidewalk and they tweeted at you later on. That sublease in Williamsburg and that breakfast at Roebling Tea Room. The apartment with the two most friendliest cats on the planet and the dog that seems to vanish into thin air. Cute roommate who loves music from Sweden. He went to the Deer Tracks show at Piano's we were supposed to go to the night before. No one knows who the Deer Tracks are! Armpit hair showing. Bedroom felt like a sauna. Teddy. Jack. Bruce. Together again at Robert Moses beach. Dress up in the Kmart at Astor Place. Scored huge when Gabrielle found that Melissa Etheridge shirt when we went thrifting. Torrential downpour on the way to Sydney Wayser. I quickly was reminded why I hate Joe's Pub. BBQs in Coram. Wet Hot American Summer in Brooklyn Bridge Park. Paul Rudd. Amy Poehler. David Wain. Michael Showalter are all there. Sleepovers with MSN in Ditmas Park. Stuffing my face with Indian food at 2am. Ex-boyfriend meeting current boyfriend. The last season of Damages. Heart to heart on a couch in 3B. Felt really awkward seeing Magic Mike with Jenna and a sea of middle-aged women who thought they were at a bachelorette party for someone's third marriage. New Japandroids record starts the summer off right. It's where former emo/hardcore kids go to feel nostalgic for the early 2000s. G's vegan food stand debuts in Brooklyn! Heirloom Vegan Eatery. Wishing Oz a happy birthday on the rooftop of a Bushwick apartment building. Trust is playing from somewhere. Catching up on Breaking Bad, but not in time for the season premiere of the current season. Overnight shifts and lots of sick days. Lots of summer rain. Watched fireworks from afar on Gay Pride. Still counting how many times we hear "212" while out and about. Introducing The Boy to Blue Bottle coffee. Joachim Trier's new film "Oslo, August 31st" at the IFC Center. In that tiny theater. Devastating 24 hours. Arguing on sixth avenue in the west village because that seems to be where I always seem to argue with all my boyfriends. Heatwaves. I have to give up hot coffee for iced and it's not the same. I don't feel the caffeine running through my body when it's not hot. Todd Solondz's Dark Horse. Selma Blair being amazing. You wanna blow job? My little brother and sister asking me to play "Bubblegum Bitch" without saying bitch. Meeting Marina and the Diamonds on the rooftop of the Mondrian hotel in SoHo. Drinking Four Loko in my car outside of Santos before a Kitty Pryde show. Getting Taco Bell at 3am more times than I care to admit. Swimming in the ocean with a native Hawaiian.
Seeing Fiona Apple perform at the Paramount in Seattle. The Pacific Northwest is stingy with their air conditioning. Vegan Drinks at Fontana's. Vegan pulled pork sliders. iamamiwhoami played the mysterious card for so long I forgot they existed and dropped an album in June. It's actually good. Cher Lloyd takes over the radio. I prefer it over Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe." A new Amy Sherman-Palladino tv show that doesn't know what direction its going in. I got whiplash from the Cyclone. I can't think or be in Coney Island without thinking about Lana Del Rey. Gloria Gaynor told the crowd what a "cover" is and the Village People had dudes in the crowd jumping up and down like a lunatic. I flew to Colorado to hang out with Gillian and Tony for a few days. I'm sick the whole time and sleep hours and hours. Admitted into the ER. Two women hovered over me and gave me three shots at once. Two in my butt and one in my arm. They leave the room immediately after injecting me with things and I squirm and squirm in the hospital room wondering why it hurts so much. Some court show is on the tv mumbling something about car washes. Celestial Seasonings tour. I get yelled at for taking a picture in the factory. Teabagging. We attempt to go tubing down a river with major rapids but our tubes are too small and all we got were skinned up knees and shins and broken sunglasses. Bret Easton Ellis' The Canyons starts filming and Lindsay Lohan makes it through. Not knowing what prairie dogs are. Blue Velvet references on Bunheads. Only 15 minutes away from the Colorado shooting and waking up not realizing what happened and why I received ten text messages asking if I was okay.
I miss the Robyn party at Public Assembly. "The Idler Wheel" on repeat. Annual Seattle trip happens. Capitol Hill Block Party. Phantogram. Blouse. Azealia Banks gets annoying. Seattle. Seattle. Seattle. Twin Shadow is great. He makes a joke about hearing Pearl Jam when he stepped off the plane into the airport. Then on my way home, I hear Pearl Jam as well. Members only underground 80s industrial club. Everyone is smoking cigarettes. They dance like Stevie Nicks. Grimes and Blood Diamonds play "Phone Sex" which has been my anthem all summer and I feel like I'm the only one who knows the song. I can always count on Alex to keep me up to date with sci-fi. He takes me to see Prometheus and I enjoy it much more than I imagined. We drive around Seattle and trade iPods and iPhones for music. He loves all of my emo playlists. He went for a walk listening to one and almost started crying. Caffé Vita. Vivace. Porchlight. Veggie dogs in front of Neumos. Try to get into the Diplo show. Rancho Bravo and lots of food trucks. The Social is social. The Space Needle is orange. I never make it to Pike Place Market. Sleeping on couches then crawling into bed with A. The La La boys are in Anacortes. Watching anime I've never heard of before while A falls asleep sitting up. Boys falling out of taxis. Neighbours one weeknight. IHOP adventures with boys from last year and the internet. Michael Fassbender becomes my favorite robot in film. Long walks through Capitol Hill. Large pile of ants. Psychologically damaged bottoms. Great noodle place and a business plan. Driving barefoot. Not watching one frame of the summer Olympics.
Joan Jett in Coney Island. Grimalidi's. Grimaldi's again. Meeting the infamous Jackie. Sigur Rós in Prospect Park. Cute baristas in Ditmas Park flirting with us. Ordering things off the menu I can't pronounce. Pool party on Long Island. Celebrity Big Brother in the UK. Short shorts. Not so short shorts. Accidentally wearing sandals in Manhattan. Contributing writer for PopBytes. Going through pictures in Ryan's attic. The lost Muse photos are there. Vicodin. Sudafed. Whiskey. Shock Top. 4th of July spent in Montauk. Where's Emily Thorne? We build a fire on the beach. Friends ditch us for food and swimming pools. Falling asleep during the car ride home in a thunderstorm while country music is playing on the radio. I hear chatter but it's incomprehensible. Barefoot on pavement. Gregg Araki's Nowhere party I wished I went to. Slumber parties on Long Island. Big Ang. The xx album leaks. Marina and the Diamonds at Webster Hall. Too many anniversaries in August. Watched Philadelphia for the first time. Hungover from your Lost in Translation karaoke night. It was your birthday and I spent more money than I had. Candle 79 brunch an Dekalb Market. Beer gardens galore. Coolers of PBRs and Shock Tops. A bottle of Jameson hidden from view. Queens backyard party. Veggie burgers and meeting more of your friends. I like Smashing Pumpkins girl. Tea parties underwater in hotel swimming pools we are not staying at. Making out in your bedroom. Meeting Sue Ellen the kitten. Lana Del Rey's "God Bless America" mixtape. Washing down Adderalls. Dinner parties at G's house. G's mother tells G this: "I think Bruce and I fell in love the first time we met, but not boyfriend girlfriend love...our souls connected." I nearly died, my heart skipped a beat or two.
The LA Complex. Finally watching Dirty Girl. The Real Housewives of NYC. Gaelen and friends feeding chocolate-covered strawberries to the "dolphins" in the swimming pool. Sitting on a plane, listening to The xx's new song "Angels" and almost bursting with emotions next to a cute dude. Gillian getting offended when tourists in her hometown said she looked like she was "from here," meaning Colorado. Getting hit on by the girl working at the liquor store while buying bottles of Skinnygirl cocktails. She dressed like my girlfriends did in high school. Best friends who live on the opposite coast not having close friends to talk to and feeling a bit lonely. That 20 minute tornado warning for Long Island. You singing in Grimes' shrill voice every time we listen to "Phone Sex." Kidnapping you for a week and leaving the city in the dust. Meet Twitter celebrities IRL. Falling asleep to the Katie Holmes horror movie about children's teeth. Printing out birthday letters and mixtape playlists at Carrie's house. She had coffee already brewing for me. I introduce her to Marina and we listen to Of Monsters and Men. Empire Records in McCarren. Hearing the new Bat for Lashes record at Electric Lady Studios in Greenwich Village.
Labor Day weekend means we wish the summer good bye while on Fire Island. This year was like the three years before but without my usual chaperones. It felt strange playing leader and getting everyone and everything together. Boys are smoking bowls in my backseat. I really enjoy the smell of weed. I really enjoy the idea of getting high. But I know it is only panic panic panic for me. J makes us miss the ferry. But we had to fill bellies anyway. The boy working the parking lot near the Sayville ferries is getting yelled at by his superior while we wait in line to park. His superior must be a vampire because he is holding a giant black umbrella over his head to deflect the sun from hitting his pores. He jokes with us. MM takes it literally. We get a sweet spot dedicated for the handicapped, thanks to how small my car is. We learned from our mistake last time and found a seat in the middle on the top deck of the boat to avoid getting splashed. Lots of leathery tanned skin with bad tattoos up here. A lesbian has a faded rose on her hand. The gay in front of them has a tribal sun on the center of his back. MM is telling me that Kirsten Dunst is a resident of Germany and not the United States. For some reason The Help is always mentioned when all of us are together. The Boy is stoned and is all over me. I'm drinking a PBR on the ferry. We marvel at how some gay guys have absolutely no hair on their bodies. There were two of them sitting a little behind us without their shirts on. I'm not into it. I'll take my cub over anyone.
We step off the ferry and there are so many queers in Cherry Grove. Aging drag queens. It takes forever to walk a few hundred feet. We end up going to Cherries. It looks like the DJ is sleeping while spinning. The music is awful. There's J with a crew. His hug is barely a hug. Z tells us a story about how J tried to pick him up in a thrift store in Brooklyn. It sounds like fiction. It would make for a great hipster romance. "Where did you guys meet?," an acquaintance asks you after you introduce them to your boyfriend. "Oh, we met in a thrift store in Williamsburg." It's too perfect. Z declined. There's a stocky emo boy behind the bar and I realize he was a former cuddle buddy on Long Island. I can't keep this information to myself, despite just having a conversation with two people about how I shouldn't share these types of things. We finish our drinks and walk over to the Ice Palace. Vodka Red Bulls. I'm already feeling good and I don't want to push myself so MM and I take a break from alcohol. It's fun to people watch out here. We admire all of the horrible tattoos, take photos. The Boy got a picture of a girl who had the outline of Long Island tattooed on her.
Lesbians ordering mudslides and being aggressive and elbowing my friends. I'm standing in a queue as if I'm on the west coast because the dude in front of me is from the west coast. The bartender pretends not to understand the concept of a cup of water versus a bottle of water. This is where things get blurry. We find some chairs on the other side of the Ice Palace. We rest our feet there. A remix of "212" comes on and The Boy and I run to the dance floor. The DJ follows it with that kiki song and I want to cry. How about "Shady Love" instead? Azealia is on that track! The Boy and I have been tracking 212's prominence in gay bars in New York for almost a year now. It's almost become a going out staple. It's getting dark but we can't leave because I want to meet The Australian I know off of Twitter. I also want to run into Tattooed Muscle Daddy. Twitter implodes when all of us are hanging out and meeting in person for the first time. AFG is so animated when talking about Buffy and it makes me super happy. Joss Whedon love is everywhere. I get frowned upon when I tell everyone I haven't watched all of Angel. The Australian is hard to keep close, he's always wandering off somewhere. Walking through the Meat Rack turns into walking on the beach. I hate walking on the beach, it makes the walk feel so much longer.
We make it to the Pines in one piece. Dancing ensues. But the music is just one beat over and over and over and over again. I yearn for pop songs. It seems everything and everyone is making out. The pool looks sad. It's a dark blue and all of the tubes and other floatation pool things are huddled in one corner. We go upstairs, still no good music. I order a beer and The Boy and I find a quiet spot on the balcony overlooking where the Pavilion used to stand. At some point we try to use an elevator. A reindeer walks by near the boardwalk path. Huuuuge antlers and he was only three feet away. We walk back through the Meat Rack to Cherry Grove. I let other people lead again and we're stuck walking through sand. High-tops are not proper footwear for sand. Doll heads as lawn ornaments. We return to the Ice Palace. Everyone is fading. Some are fading more than others. Over-priced pizza, water...let's catch the next ferry. It's still not cold, I imagined the night to cool down. Perfect summer night. Someone explains to me what a blue moon actually is. We all part ways except for my crew who are sleeping over. It's early, in New York City time. 2am. But we started this drunken affair at 4:15. It makes sense for us to wind down. It doesn't stop us from collecting our thoughts, charging our phones and uploading pictures to Instagram. Too many vodka Red Bulls keeps me from falling asleep, even with cuddles with The Boy. I don't think my parent's waterbed is helping either. Swoosh. In the morning I ask The Boy to brew a pot of coffee. We start watching Celebrity Big Brother waiting for the other boys to rise. One by one they wake. We all pour ourselves a cup of coffee. Z drinking his black. I feel as if we talk more and more with every sip, the caffeine coursing through our bodies. Realize MM and I are going to the same Bon Iver show at Radio City at the end of the month. Conversations about Spotify and licensing of music, a mediated world, the un(reality) of celebrity and fame, Bon Iver's Grammy speech. I take everyone to my favorite diner. I'm not sure they are impressed. Everything is subjective. It's cloudy out and there's a slight chill in the air. I feel as if summer is really over. I see a boy trying to climb up a fence outside the diner window. It's his last summer adventure before school starts the next day. I think about how I have nothing to look forward to this fall. No more college. No more papers. No more novels. I feel slightly depressed about it. The Boy is so quiet and barely eats his omelet. Perhaps he is thinking the same things I'm thinking. I can't believe we're in the month of September already. Summer really is gone.
My memory jogs, lapses and forgets. This is written to remember. To remember I lived the summer of 2012.
01. Twin Shadow- Five Seconds
02. Mark Foster + A-Track + Kimbra- Warrior
03. Icona Pop- I Love It
04. Lana Del Rey- Marilyn Monroe
05. Marina and the Diamonds- Radioactive
06. Purity Ring- Belispeak
07. Crystal Castles- Plague
08. Blood Diamonds (feat. Grimes)- Phone Sex
09. Paul Banks- The Base
10. Lemonade- Softkiss
11. Goldroom (feat. Chela)- Fifteen
12. iamamiwhoami- kill
13. How to Dress Well- Ocean Floor For Everything
14. Ellie Goulding- High For This (The Weeknd Cover)
15. Frank Ocean- Thinkin Bout You
16. The xx- Angels
17. MSMR- Hurricane
18. Fiona Apple- Left Alone
19. Cold Specks- Blank Maps
20. Orion- In The End
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