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In and out of a harsh sleep for 3 or 4 hours – sitting up –
having to reposition myself multiple times. The bus arrives in the middle of
Manhattan bright and early in the morning. It’s 6:30 a.m. Not my happy hour.
While waiting in the subway I scrounge down two Hard-Boiled Eggs that I packed
along with a water bottle full of Orange Juice. Taking the L train to this guy
Nathan’s place in Queens; I know him through Anthony and his band played a show
at my house.
Walking up to the corner of Norman and Seneca I hear a
familiar hey from the other side of the street. There she is, my little
Russian doll. Adorned in some black and white Western style shawl with black
and white patterned tights. A beautiful portrait. We lock arms immediately in a
much-anticipated embrace.
I smile big and comment, “Look at you...I missed you.”
Inside Nathan’s railroad style apartment. Alicia, a former
couch surfer I hosted maybe a year ago, settles us in. Ays and I cuddle on the
couch just relaxing for a little bit before we venture out into the city. She
gazes at me adoringly and says to me, “The sweetest thing in the world...when
I’m with you everything works.” I love the way she explains things, even with
her limited knowledge of English.
Out on the streets with Ays, each with our on scooter.
Checking out the spots I know. First, that insanely overpriced Junk thrift
store on Driggs. Then, to Peter Pan Donuts. It’s a packed little café with
stocky young Slovenian girls behind the counter taking everyone’s orders. We sit
down on bar stools enjoying our donuts: Old Fashioned Glazed and Cinnamon with
Milk.
...
Ays recites an excerpt she memorized while reading James
and the Giant Peach in San Francisco, for educational purposes but also she
found it had poetic relevance to the situation when she lost so many important
things and friends on the west coast.
“We may see a Creature with forty-nine heads
Who lives in the desolate snow,
And whenever he catches a cold (which he dreads)
He has forty-nine noses to blow.
We may see the venomous Pink-Spotted Scrunch
Who can chew up a man with one bite.
It likes to eat five of them roasted for lunch
And eighteen for its supper at night
We may see a Dragon, and nobody knows
That we won't see a Unicorn there.
We may see a terrible Monster with toes
Growing out of the tufts of his hair.
We may see the sweet little Biddy-Bright Hen
So playful, so kind and well-bred;
And such beautiful eggs! You just boil them and then
They explode and they blow off your head.
A Gnu and a Gnocerous surely you'll see
And that gnormous and gnorrible Gnat
Whose sting when it stings you goes in at the knee
And comes out through the top of your hat.
We may even get lost and be frozen by frost.
We may die in an earthquake or tremor.
Or nastier still, we may even be tossed
On the horns of a furious Dilemma.
But who cares! Let us go from this horrible hill!
Let us roll! Let us bowl! Let us plunge!
Let's go rolling and bowling and spinning until
We’re away from old Spiker and Sponge!”
We take the train into Manhattan. While riding up a compact
elevator to transfer to another train we experience a strange moment. A burly
black man is speaking to himself, “Homeboy is one hundred percent right...”
while a tiny timid retarded man keeps his head turned in the opposite direction
as if embarrassed by him.
At random unannounced times she’ll softly demand, “Kiss me.”
I cherish these little cute moments.
We make our way to the Guggenheim museum. It seems to be a
very popular place today. While waiting we notice the price of one adult ticket
costs $80. We both recognize how ridiculous it is and how all these people,
mostly couples and families, are willing to fork out that much money to see the
art here. Fortunately for us we don’t have to pay. Alicia happens to work here
and offered to put our names on the list. We climb the stairs and peruse all
the exhibits including Rineke Dijkstra’s portraiture from the 90’s and a few
paintings by Kandinsky.
...
In the projection room we watch videos of individual
teenagers dancing in front of a camera.
Without a private place to make love we get inspired to make
use of the unisex restrooms. Locking ourselves into the tight space and going
at it for a few minutes. Surprisingly we aren’t disturbed by any knocks on the
door. An exhilarating feeling shoots down my spine and releases down below.
Me: “Sex in a museum. How many people do you think have done
this here?”
...
Sitting on a circular couch looking out the window on the
fourth floor I notice an older woman across the street in a loft apartment
changing clothes by an open window. She pays no mind to me or the passersby who
take advantage of the voyeuristic photo op.
We settle down at a small table by a fountain in Madison
Park sharing Falafels we bought from a food truck. People watching – learning
about the strangers by their body gestures and mannerisms.
Finding a Buffalo Exchange but it’s overcrowded. We don’t
stay long.
Ays takes notice to my increased stress and uncomfortable
mood from being surrounded by people constantly. The hustle and bustle of a
city I can deal with especially with my experience delivery driving but the Big
City is a different animal than I’m used to. She doesn’t like it when I get
“nervous” she says.
Back at the railroad apartment. We relax on the couch from
all the walking around. Feeling drowsy – drifting off to sleep for a little
bit. Nathan and his roommates, Ryan and Ben, are here hanging out along with
their friend Haley. They cook up a meal in the kitchen, some kind of Vegetable
Soup. We all partake.
Getting into collaborative discussions about the music
community here (or anywhere) and finding a home. We play a bunch of card games
including Durak and Bullshit. Hours of entertainment and fun.
...
Things die down and people go to bed. Ays and I lie under a
thick blue sleeping bag on the couch and have secret quiet sex. Ryan sleeps
nearby and has a quilted blanket for a door so we have to be ultra stealth. In
the background we’re privileged to listen to funk Motown jams thumping from his
stereo, which becomes our soundtrack.
Sleep shortly after 2 a.m.
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