I've been so boring lately. It's downright painful for me. My energy is zapped, my attention wanes, my joie de vivre is just lacking. Imagine how surprised I was spending most of last week out and about besides that. I was running on autopilot for real. Tuesday was standing on the outskirts at Ghostly, Wednesday was standing on the outskirts at the tail end of a circus themed magazine party (and I didn't even get one, dammit. Though, I scored some cotton candy which was sweet) here before the scene turned into lifestyles of the rich and idle (side note: a bold faced club that doesn't actually suck. The novelty of it all! Is it expensive as shit though? Ridiculously. Strictly clandestine beverages and water unless you roll with a big spender), and Thursday was the same bat time, same bat station, rolling through too late, chatting with my people, and having more fun sitting on the curb non-interacting. I took that as a sign that I'd be better served staying in Friday. And I did and the world is still in one piece. Miracles can happen.
I had spoken to Lina earlier and found that she was experiencing a similar case of the ultrablahs. I guess it's a case of the job seeker "the warm weather is coming but what does that matter to me since I'll still be broke and jobless" blues. Saturday though, I rounded up PrincessNella to at least help me feel more lively since I wanted to be out and about. We ventured uptown past the old school stop, noting that we hadn't be on the 6 like that in years. The daily 6 trek hasn't been a thing in almost 5 years now. Time really flies when you're preoccupied with other things. She and I have hung out twice this week. A downright miraculous thing given that despite living about 15 blocks apart on practically the same street, our schedules just never mesh. On Wednesday, we went to dinner at that place I've been trying to get to for months now (I'll admit I read about it in a Daily Candy email and they made it sound so good. I'm such a closet buppie -- as well as easily influenced. It's shameful) and strolling around the Hudson River Park and West Village/Chelsea, marvelling at how much NYC has changed. And talking about real estate because our master plan is to escape our not-so-terrible-really mothers and become roomies. The hanging out portion of my week was great. I guess my priorities are just shifting. I might be partied out -- or at least temporarily because it's hard to be all carefree with the financial ruin monkey on your back.
Anyhoo, Saturday night in Spanish Harlem, we come across this school building with bouncer looking guys standing out front. Slightly confused, I sarcastically wonder if someone rented out the lunchroom for a party, but when I check my voicemail, this is indeed the place. We pay our $5 after conferring with the woman with the guest list and stroll up these narrow steps to find variations of the youngish and/or hip lining the walls. The school was actually converted apartments and two floors were throwing a joint party. It was nice not wandering alone for a change, though it cut down on the random magnetism considerably. Not necessarily a bad thing I guess. I'm the type who loves an after hours, even in spirit since we were out of there as things were really getting ready to rage. Nothing wrong with some low-key fun.
I would've said the same for Sunday if I hadn't gotten home at 4:45am. That was only because I had to make my way back to Queens from Jersey City during a bit of a transportation dead zone. (As an aside, I've crystallized why exactly I hate druggies. They babble nonstop about bullshit so tenaciously, are lethargic, and straight up act like dope fiends. Ooh, let's spend hours sitting around talking about how much you want a hit and calling the dealer who is obviously ignoring you. Get the fuck over it! I actually considered swimming back to New York.) The view is nothing new to those who commute into town but taking the PATH into the World Trade Center stop has to be one of the freakiest rides. Emerging from the dark tunnel into the light of the Ground Zero pit, riding along the outskirts in dead silence. Then coming off the train into the sterile station, every footstep echoing. I gave myself the creeps and really hauled ass, though I still missed the train I needed. Knowing the schedule on your line has its advantages and disadvantages.
Posted by Candicissima at March 29, 2004 10:22 PM