end of hiatus
Boy am I glad to be back from Pennsylvania. Too many high schoolers, too many meals consisting of pre-fried frozen items, and too little access to a shower. (Mom's rolling her eyes. Hush, mom! The city hasn't made me soft! You would have complained too!)
Then again, it was 97 degrees in New York today and humid. Which is kind of like being in hell.
My weekends seem to have manic, fantasia/Odyssey qualities to them these days. They feel like they're about a week long, each. This last one is pretty representative.
Took shower. Washed Pennsylvania out of hair.
Washed hair again.
Did not hear from Fabio.
Went to a club inside a big boat at Chelsea Piers. (This is a lawsuit waiting to happen - the boat, which is permanently parked on the pier, is still covered with marine paraphernalia such as long hazardous ladders, metal equipment, and rusty nails, and drunk people are climbing all over it every night). There are DJs on multiple levels of the boat, though, which is pretty neat. My friend served as my wingwoman, and we picked up dudes by asking them what they would do when the ship started to sink. Gave out fake names. Went home at 5 AM. Wingwoman friend and other friend get into Springer-style brawl, thereby apparently resolving some relationship issues.
Saturday: Woke up, recovered. Tried to remove mascara crust from eyeballs. Ate mu shu. Painted a painting. Took another shower. Went to posh club downtown with bouncer, velvet ropes, the works, at friend's invitation. Got a dubious look from bouncer for my non-designer style, but it was late at night and they were letting anyone in at that point. Crashed birthday party of friend of a friend. Danced for five hours with the friend of a friend, El Bailador de Baltimore, who I didn't even meet on the internet. Now this is a guy with some serious mojo.
Sunday: Had brunch date with gentleman I met on the internet, El Contable. He is a Ukrainian immigrant who is studying to be an accountant, which sounds very straight-laced. However he is also a super-hip DJ and it turns out he has often DJ'ed at that very club in the boat. I ask him to identify the next club music trend post-reggaeton. He predicts "something new out of Brazil." We walk down 9th avenue. I buy fake purple eyelashes and a dance music CD that El Contable recommends.
Copied dance music CD onto computer and sent it to high school boyfriend, with whom diplomatic relationships have recently been established.
Had pleasing, hippie-dippy Rise Up Singing jam session with musician acquaintance in New York.