Kitty Power

Limbo

(Before I get into it, I've actually updated my page o' mp3s to grab because I love.)

Over the weekend, I was cross legged on the floor surrounded by papers, keepsakes, and all sorts of accumulated crap from the past few years of my life. There's that book about the puritan family I couldn't unload from my US History class. A little wallet sized photo of me in my pink princess prom gown. Graduation program. Yearbooks. That photo of me and The Ex that I still love. LA pics. Me, Ant, and Farmer at Union Pool. Do I need Find Law printouts from the DC program...shit, almost three years old? Yes...no...maybe.

I'm mentally moved into our little walkup place, but I'm physically boxed up in Queens. As terrible as it sounds, I almost didn't realize Monday is a holiday until I got an email about it at work. I've got the long weekend to get my stuff in and nest a bit.

I made a harrowing trip through town with Grandmastah H's lent air mattress strapped to my back. I couldn't even be too stoked that I made it door to door from the West Village in 25 minutes because that fucking thing felt like it weighed 25 pounds. I was doubled over in pain at Underhill, almost unwilling to walk the extra half block. But, I made it and faced down my new apartment nemesis: the tricky lock before inflating the fucking thing and collapsing. All the while, I was thinking "I can't die out here. I've got to get home first." Because that place already feels like home. Probably because home is where your money vanishes into thin air.

The weekend was pretty low-key. I've been rolling lean and staying out of sight because $10 can only take you so far once you've gotten used to being limitless. Saturday though I found the best parties ever. What I like to call "that crazy motherfucker going apeshit" party at the Knit. I was surprised to see it so underpopulated but the man is unstoppable -- DJing and scatting with horn players and percussion. I love that shit and I was amused at the yuppies just in for a drink who were glancing at the stage like "what the fuck is going on over there?" I like an element of "what will that crazy do next?" at a concert. Most shows are the same old setups and proceedings, so a dash of zaniness adds a little something. Plus they've got cider on tap there. I'm all about enjoying a glass of not!Beer for a cheap.

From there, I was up at Starfoods for this. I was doing the old sitting off to the side and taking it all in routine, but the music was so ridiculous. I love that party but something about it makes me feel inhibited. Perhaps it's the feeling of social claustrophobia as I see the same old friends of friends plus randoms I've met along the way. For a city of millions, I see the same 30 people everywhere I go. Maybe I'm just burrowing deeper and deeper into the scene, even as I "branch out," or perhaps maybe this is all there is. As I've been mentioning a lot (only on the web, I don't know anyone who'd care in real life), MF Doom was supposedly there also. I think that's neat because what little I know about him, I feel cool to be somewhere he might be. Compared to if it was like, I dunno...Fabulous -- one of the reasons I haven't gone to Gustavino's (does that place even still exist?) ever again. Of course, me being cameraless -- no mugging with him. Not that I'd know him if I fell over him. I know he's black and that's about it. I've got no identifying features besides that...which is kinda the point, I suppose. At least I can admit I'm fronting in this situation. I'm good for talking to someone I guess I should know as a music fan sort, i.e. running into the Greenskeepers guy when I fucking love them, and being all "duh...blah blah let's talk about bullshit and I'll kick myself later." Or looking right at them and not reacting at all (hey, Rufus Wainwright!). Ah well. At the end of the day, they're just regular folks. I've had my one lifetime "famous" person spazz episode, it's all whatever after that.

Posted by Candicissima at January 11, 2005 01:19 AM