My prerogative…not just a song, it’s a state of mind. This little kitty is experiencing the blahs. I’m partied out. I’m looking for alternative stimulation. I suppose that’s because my whole week has been screwed up by Tuesday being such a freaking rager. I’m type tired.
With that said, I’m finally venturing out the house cave today. I need to see people and be social, but perhaps lay off the sauce. I might even be home before *gasp* 2am tonight. I’m finally checking out the Fela exhibit going on at the New Museum – especially since it’s $3 entry on Thursday nights. Hey, I’ve probably lost my student discounts privileges, so a kid’s gotta take a deal where she can! (In an aside, my first instinct is to call that place the Newseum, which would be totally wrong because there is already one of those in DC and it’s awesome.) And I’m meeting up with the throwers of the hottest store party hybrids in the city to catch this movie Afropunk. I was actually gonna hold out for the Saturday showing, but since my weekend’s looking jammed packed like a mofo, there’s no time like the present. The screening’s at Pianos which should prove an adventure.
Another reason I’ve been in is because Tuesday drove home some irritation I’ve been feeling. At the store opening that blew, I saw a group of people that are extremely familiar to me. Strange because I have no idea who the hell they are. But I know them by face because I saw them here, there, and here, and there, and this one too and various other events and spots around town. They are the present scenesters, the black bohemian variety that occasionally I aspire to be. You’d think as a scenestress in training, I’d get to know them and hang, making contacts and getting the hookups yadda yadda what’d you’d expect from someone that professes to want to go into PR, but fuck, I’m sick of looking at them. NYC is downright claustrophobic for me sometimes. If I’m not running into someone from one alma mater, it’s the other. I run into people I’ve only seen online via Nerve or whatever. Even online, I run into someone who knows people I know and I can connect myself and various nemeses in less than four degrees. Add to that, I haven’t decided what I want “my scene” to be and as I’ve discovered everywhere else eventually, though you see yourself as fluid and able to defy characterizations, other people don’t see it quite that way and will give you static. So, the question remains for me: what to do? I obviously can’t hide in the cave forever because truthfully, though I might be occasionally scared, timid and/or dismissive, I love people and what I love about NYC is the different opportunities for interactions everywhere. I suppose I should suck it up and deal across the board. Being a scenestress is about being in a not-so-loose network. I think this whole dilemma is boiling down to my notoriously convoluted Piscean thinking because as much as I want to be loose and free, I’ve also been feeling a need to settle down and nest. Hmm. I’m starting to confuse myself.
Posted by Candicissima at August 21, 2003 05:04 PM