Yesterday I went into New York City to see some of the buddies. It was pretty damn glorious. The little buddies have been getting really into short-form video performance art lately, and carrying props around with them in tote bags. Delightful people, truly truly. Spent the day with those pictured above and Caroline, with a cameo made by Katherine who was a dear and briefly met up with us despite our flighty lack of plans. Ate so many snax at Vegetarian Dim Sum, lots of different tastes and textures in tiny envelopes for sending to my mouth. Toy cars on the table with the tea pot, angel wings on the back of the chair. A Chinese family doing something reminiscent of shelling peas with a vegetable I don't know the name of. And then on to St. Mark's, to my father's old stomping grounds. Piercings for Ali and Tamara, a button tattoo for Sara, amusement for all involved.
There was a strange contrast between the first and second halves of my time in New York yesterday. After the buddies I went to Brooklyn, had a fairly quiet dinner with some friends in an apartment, and eventually went out to an absurdly typical Williamsburg bar, full of boys in plaid who thought they were too awesome for me to acknowledge their feet or something. I also experienced one of the most painful being-hit-on situations of my life: a very tall boy with long hair, a Subhumans t-shirt and a wounded demeanor said something to me that I couldn't understand (the bar was loud, and few people really know how bad my hearing actually is; it's really bad in situations with a lot of ambient noise, like a bar), and when I said "what?", gestured towards my ears, and mistakenly thought he was trying to get past me, he responded with "I was going to hit on you but I guess you're too busy" in a way that was somewhere in between apologetic and harshly accusatory. I felt bad about it for an inappropriately long time, because I couldn't manage to have feelings other than mild disappointment towards most people in the room. That said, I was more than happy to be out with two dear friends of mine I hadn't spent time with in ages, but it was certainly a shock after semi-parading down the streets of Chinatown without a hint of irony a few hours before.
The long and the short of it is that I really should just go to New York City for breaks, figure out a place to stay, and come to the Island to visit my family and old friends occasionally.
Not really related, but on my mind: I miss Will a lot. It hasn't been a week since we stopped living together, but the idea of returning to Chicago yet Will being gone is becoming more and more daunting as the reality approaches. I am on some level selfishly glad I was not there to see him leave, but coming back to his room being empty seems just as jarring, if less embarrassing, what with less sloppy crying and awkward goodbyes, et cetera. The man has been my closest friend and near-constant companion for much of the last year and a half, and while I in all sincerity wish him the absolute best in Philadelphia, I fucking miss him. So there's that.
Note: Other things I intend to write about: my grandmother's house, obstacle courses for dogs, my New Year's plans, discussions with my father, rapping, why I hate Long Island, why I love my friends.
