Hoping to land on my feet.

May 29, 2013 07:53

It's almost 5 in the morning and I know that in a few hours I'll be busy moving all of my and Matt's stuff out of this apartment that I've spent about nine months living in. Even though not a single part of me will miss this place, it's always weird moving out of somewhere that, for better or worse, was your home for some extended period of time. The concept of depending on a piece of shelter for some basic amount of comfort and protection and then suddenly leaving it behind to never see again is a strange one. The memories that me and my makeshift family (Matt, Tia, Kara, Snuggles) have stained the walls with will be invisible to whatever poor soul winds up here next. We might even drive by this place again in the future, and like some people we no longer consider friends or family, we won't acknowledge the relationship with it we once shared; at least not directly. This has been a stressful week that has rendered me unusually fatigued. My body has known it must prepare for huge changes and thus left it just wanting to lay on the couch and not get up. Thankfully, my mind is stronger than my body in some respects and won't let it sabotage the changes that, as scary as they may be, are deeply anticipated in a reluctantly positive way. By this upcoming Saturday, I will no longer live in this apartment and will technically be homeless again. I'll also be on a Greyhound bus to Los Angeles so I can eventually tour the country with PETA on a huge rock star bus where I will live with a couple of other strangers I probably won't get along or connect with. While I'm gone, Tia and Matt will be back at their parents' places, suffering and desperately trying to save up enough money to ensure that we can afford to move to Philadelphia together this fall. Kara will have it the hardest because as I type this she still doesn't have any steady and reliable source of income. I am confident we'll each be able to save up $2,000, our goal so we know we can afford to grab the first nice apartment Matt and I can find and then survive until everyone finds a job and settles in. I'm so scared and I am well aware sacrifice and discomfort will be inevitable. The difference this time around is that it all has a purpose. It won't be suffering to stay in one place, it will be in the name of finally escaping the black hole that is the 518 and hopefully moving on to bigger and better things in a city that I am pretty sure will feel more like home than anywhere I've ever lived around this city. I no longer have any ties to Schenectady other than sore memories at every corner. I have no home here, no love, no family, and the few people I actually care about are never around and may as well be a couple states away. The people I consider my family will be in this with me and that makes me feel more than ready to sail this ship. At least if it fails, we all go down together. It's nice to not be alone in survival for a change.

I've spent the last week trying to catch up with myself on this blog so I could write in semi-real time about my tour with PETA on Warped. This is going to be a totally different summer than the ones I've had and written about on here while hitchhiking. So this entry is going to be scattered and have a lot of pictures.

The last time I heard from my mother was over a month ago. She hadn't attempted to get a hold of me otherwise after the night she drove drunk around my neighborhood with her hand on her horn while searching for me. When she called me back sober the morning after, she no longer seemed interested. From what I know from my grandmother, she has since found herself on the verge of homelessness. Apparently, she drunkenly called her landlady and gave her her one month's notice, subsequently winding up evicted. I'm pretty sure this is true because the last time I heard from her was early one morning when she called and immediately started yelling at me through the phone.
"David, this is fuckin' bullshit, man. Listen, you're going to help me move. I don't care if you don't like us, you don't have to talk to anyone, but you do have to help us move. You're going to help your fuckin' family. We all love you and you're going to help us."
She was under the impression at the time of that call that she, my father, my two brothers, my sister, their two dogs and cat were all going to move into my grandmother's. I let her go on her tirade and demand that I help them when the time came and didn't bother to incite further discussion by rejecting her outright. I gave her an "okay" and when she asked me outright, "So you'll help us when I call you in a few days?" I said, "I don't know." But I did. I knew there was no fucking way I'd help them. When I found myself homeless, they wound up putting me back on the streets after mercilessly attacking and betraying me in a single night that can't even be excused on alcohol. I can't forgive them because I have yet to even get a formal apology. When I talked to my grandmother about it, who asks me every time I see her if I've "heard from my mother", she assured me there was no way they were moving in with her. She's an 82-year old woman who lives alone with a maltese and couldn't even handle having me living there. She has severe blood pressure problems and I know she'd have a heart attack within the first week if they actually tried to stay with her. According to her, they stopped talking to her altogether after she told them they couldn't stay with her.

On April 18th, I hung out with Raina for the first time since the winter. I'd long-since deleted her on Facebook and more or less accepted that she was done talking to me. Matt saw her sometimes because they both work at the same mall, and she'd sometimes ask about me. I missed her, I really did. So earlier that week, I decided to do something I don't normally do and message her in hopes of reconciling whatever had happened between us. She put up a fight at first, but after some emotionally driven words we decided we should definitely be friends again. The day we met up, we hung out for the entire day. I was happy to find out she had finally left her boyfriend, who disrespected her constantly and had previously cheated on her. I could sense how much better she was doing just because of that change. I made us chicken parm' for dinner and we watched The Nightmare Before Christmas with Tia. She asked to spend the night and I was certainly not going to tell her no. Of course, the question of whether she'd be sleeping on the couch or in my bedroom eventually came up and I innocently invited her to sleep in my bed with me. It was no secret that Raina had had some sort of crush on me for a while. At one point, she reinitiated her polyamorous status with her boyfriend almost exclusively to hopefully sleep with me. But I was trying to avoid fucking my lady friends because of the drama it tended to create later down the line. It wasn't too long after we watched an episode or two of Undergrads that she asked me, "You know I've always liked you, right?" After what I vaguely remember as my stumbling pre-coital awkwardness and banter, we started making out pretty furiously. It was nice. I hadn't been kissed like that in a really long time. Honestly, I wish I had more make out sessions, both now and throughout my youth; very few things are as hot as passionate, desperate kissing.

Lights turned out, music turned, consideration for my roommates abandoned, free-rein consent exchanged, it wasn't long before I was stripping her out of her tiny pinstripe shorts and black tights. Our hands frantically wandered and grabbed like we were both on a shopping spree and I started fingering her while licking and kissing her small but perky breasts and nipples and briefly biting and sucking on her neck, cautious about leaving behind a mark. She was remarkably tight and soaking wet from the few minutes I had been rubbing her from over her underwear. It was the first time in a long time that I didn't feel very nervous about sex. Perhaps it was because we already knew each other pretty well and had some semblance of a connection already. I tried not to question it, though my brain goes a thousand miles per hour during these situations. Moving around was as difficult as ever because of the bounciness of my bed and the limited space it gave us, but we managed to move around and eventually she sucked my dick a little. It was foreplay, plain and simple, nothing too spectacular, like lubing it up was all that was really intended. I got on top of her and pushed her legs up a little bit and rubbed the head of my dick up and around her moist crotch. I had just recently gotten news that I was HIV negative after being tested at a free clinic, so I was feeling particularly responsible. I got a condom on as the urgent reminder of the old nurse I'd seen echoed in my brain. When all was said and done, I'm pretty sure the sex didn't go for too long. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes of steady thrusts. She was so tight and accommodating between her legs that even the condom couldn't hinder the pleasure. I was trying to ensure that she got off, which has the unfortunate consequence of sometimes stressing my erection away, but after screaming my name a few times and announcing that she was about to cum, my penis felt allowed to take itself into further consideration and we ended up cumming at almost the same time, one of those rare and convenient moments between a man and woman. After getting off, I stayed inside of her and slowly went in and out for a little bit before pulling out. The sex was really good, albeit quick but in a passionate way. It wasn't long before she openly added my name to her list of lays on her cellphone, which I thought was funny. I haven't seen her since that night, but I'm trying to believe that it's due to her schedule and her ever hectic life.

For the last month, I have been taking full advantage of the Internet and all it has to offer someone as lonely as me. While the rest of my generation uses the many forms of social networking presented to them to find new and creative ways to dismantle the English language and avoid human contact, I've been trying to engage in relationships and conversations with people from around the world on it. A little while ago, for the first time ever, I decided I would be like Matt and accept, within reason, all of the friend requests I get instead of denying anyone I didn't immediately recognize or wasn't already friends with in real life. A handful of people from Tumblr added me right away. I then made a "like" page for my zines in hopes of helping me have a more direct and convenient means of communicating with the people who like the stuff I release. I think it's up to some measly seventy likes, but I'm going to find time to message everyone who is a fan of my shop on Etsy about liking it. I'm usually pretty bad at maintaining correspondence with people from the Internet. While I'm genuinely interested in them and what they have to say, I quickly begin feeling like, "What's the point?" in regards to striking up or continuing conversations with them. So many of them are painfully awesome people I'd sincerely want to be friends with in real life, but they are scattered around the globe and that makes our relationships feel impossible, impersonal, and some large tease. I'm trying to get over that and it's actually working. I've had a lot of fun talking to people, having my ass kissed by them, and asking them tons of questions about their lives and where they live. I got to talk to a kid from Mexico about what it's really like to live there (apparently, it's actually dangerous to drink the tap water there). I have been talking a lot with a long-time Tumblr friend in Canada named Jade who I absolutely adore. We actually had a heated sexting session just the other night and I have some pretty provocative pictures of her in my Facebook messages right now. For some reason, a lot of people like me from around Australia. I started using Skype for the first time and had a really long and fun conversation with someone I respect a lot from Tumblr who has garnered a pretty crazy infamy on there for being aggressively vegan. His name is Kieran and he's from Adelaide, Australia. We have an incredible amount of things in common and it's cool to share a mutual admiration for one another. Most importantly, I've been talking a lot with a lovely vegan girl from Brazil. She thinks she's in love with me or something. We talk almost every day, give or take, and I like her a lot. Of course, she reminds me exactly why I hated getting to know amazing people who I can only really know over my laptop screen, but it's nice having her to talk to every afternoon. Honestly, it's nice just to sit and watch her exist.

One day earlier this month, Matt had a day off of work, so he randomly proposed, "Wanna go to Syracuse?" I looked at him and said, "Yeah, sure." So we went. Tia wasn't as easy to persuade into going, but after checking her bank balance, we all decided we were financially suited for a day of spontaneous fun. We had only two real plans for the journey: 1.) Eat a lot of fucking food at Strong Hearts, and 2.) find an arcade. In our area, we have no arcades. We used to, but now not even our malls have them. There was once an awesome arcade called WOW with nickel games that blessed mine and many others' childhoods around here in a plaza, but it closed years and years ago and is now a Plato's Closet or something. The arcade in Rotterdam Square Mall closed and now the space it was in is a bank. The arcade in Crossgates Mall closed and is now nothing, though rumor has it that it's actually going to be some new version of WOW. (I'll believe it when I see it.) Anyway, we wanted an arcade, since it's a common city fixture we are simply not allowed to enjoy here. The ride there was pretty fun. We had long talks and some singalongs. I felt like we were one little family. The weather was pretty nice, too, so the windows down was exhilarating. We got to Strong Hearts in less than three hours and each ordered way more food than was necessary for any of us. We'd made sure not to eat anything so we could really go crazy. And we did. This time around, they actually had milkshakes in stock, and drinking my chocolate peanut butter "Earth Crisis" was heavenly. Afterwards, we were able to find some mall on the edge of the city that had an arcade. The mall was bland, as all malls are, and the arcade was pretty lame, but we managed to be in there for two hours and had a blast. Instead of tokens, they used a card swiping system. You put money on a card and then swiped it on the game you wanted to play. The points you accumulated through the games were electronically added to your card, sparing you the pile of tickets. I played at least twenty rounds of skee ball, which I am pretty fucking good at, and mingled with just about everything else they had there. Games were really cheap, most of them less than a quarter. Matt and Tia played Dance Dance Revolution together. Tia looked ecstatic and Matt was better at it than I ever would have imagined him being. They had a Chromeo song you could dance to on it. I played a boat racing game full of explosions. It was really, really fun. The ride home was even fun. We rocked out to Will Smith's greatest hits, considering his references to Philadelphia an omen to our need to relocate there.











Let's see. What else is there?





Tia and I started going on little dates at the Taj Mahal Indian restaurant downtown every now and then. We'd gorge on a samosa each, some unbuttered naan, and the aloo chana. The owner is really sweet and friendly and told us all about the Jains, who are a vegan sect in India who won't even sit down without sweeping the floor so as not to accidentally kill insects. They're a rare gem in this shitty place and I'm going to miss them, though I imagine there will be far better Indian fare in Philadelphia. On Jay Street, a storefront that was once a video game place is being turned into something. They have this kitty cat in the window with two different colored eyes.



I tried to make pizza fries one night. It wound up being more like a casserole, but it was pretty good. At the end of each month when I'm out of cash and food stamps, I have to become creative and find ways to mix the odd assortment of ingredients I happen to have left.





I'd been meaning to do this for a long time. A few years ago, Dakota Floyd came up and handed me a Jonas Brothers patch in Kentucky. I don't know where they came from or why he had them, but the first idea I had was to use my old straightedge shirt that no longer fit me and put those words underneath them. After all, it doesn't get more edge than Jonas. Tia was nice enough to it for me with her sewing machine. I don't know how to use those things. I think it's pretty fucking funny.

Earlier this month, Matt and I had an opportunity to drive to northern Vermont to a small town and see our favorite band, A Wilhelm Scream, play at a skatepark for free. The town was called Bristol and was about three hours away from us. Malcolm was going, too, and asked us if we'd pick him up in Latham on the way there so he wouldn't have to drive alone. We obliged and having him a long for the ride made it a little more fun. Unlike having the ladies in the back like we usually do, he was never complaining about the windows being down or the music being up. The drive north to Lake George and eventually over the border to Vermont was really pretty. It becomes very rural, but outstandingly nature-oriented, with lots of green areas and single strips of road shaded by trees hanging over it. We saw a lot of animals, even bison on a farm that also had cows and sheep. We also had a few good laughs at the crazy businesses you wind up seeing in those small towns, like a bar called Finnius T. Flubberbusters, as well as the esoteric situations like a tiny shack for maple syrup. The majority of the ride through Vermont was off the interstate, but the view was incredible. When we made our final turn, we definitely did not expect to stumble across the skatepark and all-ages community center known as The Hub. Nothing else was around it but a school and some parking lots, so it stood out dramatically. The Hub itself was a modestly sized, homely looking establishment that was painted purple and decorated with graffiti lettering. The skatepark itself was outside and pretty amazing for a grassroots endeavor. Lots of kids were there, enjoying it. Next to it was a softball game taking place. We immediately saw about five kids who were figured were the scene, if there ever was one, marked by a single guy in a Black Flag shirt.

We parked across the street and asked a group of other kids standing around how things worked. They said shows didn't happen there as frequently and weren't very organized. Approaching it, I was totally taken aback by how amazing it was. I was jealous they had it. An older guy started writing rules on a dry-erase board, forbidding obvious things like violence, drugs, and alcohol. At the end of it all, he drew an anarchy sign, which was ironic in a cute and innocent way. The entire place was 100% sober and not even smoking was allowed in or around it. Signs of a proposed garden were next to it and some masculine younger women were working the door. I stepped away and watched the kids skate for a little bit until people were allowed inside. Stepping in, I was equally as amazed. Some drums and amps were being set up where the bands would play--on a defunct half-pipe. The walls were adorned in good consent posters; some obnoxious frames in the middle of the floor were decorated with strange things, like a punching bag and a bug zapper. A tiny kitchen area in the corner had a cute girl in a plaid skirt preparing baked goods by the dozens. Merch was being set up in the back. Above us were posters from a past hardcore music festival that had happened there. In fact, we found out a lot of bands had played there before. While Bristol was small, this was a resource used by kids who lived nearby in Burlington. I asked the girl with the baked goods if they were going to be on sale (yes) and then if any of them were vegan ("All of them"). It was a delightful surprise and the place just got better and better. I ended up buying a chocolate peanut butter whoopie pie from her and two coconut-based cinnamon rolls that were huge. The first band to play was local and very, very hardcore. Lots of little scene kids with fragile, bony frames and swoopy hair started a small pit for dancing, doing elaborate fist-flailing and spin-kicks. It was pretty awful, so I went outside and called Kara to tell her all about this sanctuary. The second band was more melodic hardcore, but the vocalist was straightedge and dedicated a song to "all the straightedge kids", something I couldn't help but appreciate.

Kids of all sorts had congregated inside. This was obviously all the town had, and it was more than enough for any and all who wanted to join. Kids ranging in age from 7 to a pretty girl we saw who was 29; kids in scenester band shirts, a kid in a Hollywood Undead shirt, redneck kids wearing shirts that said things like "That's what she said" and "Git r done"; kids with their parents who had just finished their softball game. Of course, it wasn't long before one lone hardcore asshole got kicked out for trying to start a fight with a younger kid who had accidentally hit him while in the pit. He dramatically stormed off and immediately lit a cigarette. He ended up never leaving, but hanging out by the picnic tables, screaming at his girlfriend and flailing his arms at her for over two hours, long past the sun setting. A pop-punk band played and they were pretty alright. The Stereo State came late, but played a good set. A Wilhelm Scream were fucking awesome as always, don't get me wrong, but their set list was as predictable and routine as at the last three shows we'd seen them play. Plus, Nuno made sure to make some snide remark about straightedge kids, something he seems to do every time. By the time they played, the room had diminished into about fifteen kids, all sweaty, smelly, and pumped. I recognized one kid from several of the shows we'd been to. We saw our favorite band play in a half-pipe for free in an all-aged sober skate park community center in a small town in Vermont; it was pretty unique an experience and it was by all accounts an amazing day and night. We went a mile down the road afterwards in hopes of finding food, but everything was closed, so we had no choice but to just ride home hungry. The night ride wasn't as beautiful. We were surrounded by fog and the smell of animal shit for a lot of it, and because we were nowhere near an interstate, there was no hope of finding even fast food.





















So today I move. By Saturday, I'm gone for a dream opportunity of objectifying women and killing puppies with PETA. I'm so scared of going and even more scared of trying for the first time to move from Schenectady to another city and state. Hopefully, I land on my feet. I leave whoever is reading this with some pictures of Snuggles...





moving, friends, animal friends, cooking, vegan food, family, diy, travel, concerts, talking to strangers, vermont, sex

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