July 30th, 2007
|01:12 pm - My Safety [concerning Mike Vilensky's concern]|
I went to a party in Bushwick that had a rooftop BBQ with a great view [of Long Island City] and a few holes of put-put that all the punks were using as a bathroom. The girl who lived in the apartment had an obvious eating disorder and penchant for bar anthems and, for the love of sexual attention, had collected roommates of dudes that she had dated and then cheated on. Peri Chee told me earlier in the evening that the girl had inherited a pet bunny, at which point she decided she didn't want to feed it and after a few weeks of starvation it expired. And that the girl is 18. So throughout the night, when she would stand on chairs and rub her tits while yelling out some terrible rock, I'd squirm in discomfort. One of her exboyfriend roommates had invited his friend Justin to the party, who was very skinny and covered in little tattoos and, to the crazy girl's dismay, quite sweet on Peri.
The crazy girl took her exboyfriend roommate aside and growled, "Does he want to fuck her, huh?" and then began making sex-moan sounds.
"No, no," her exboyfriend roommate said of Justin, "he's just walking her home. It's really late."
Channing was with us and had come into a popped bag of popcorn that she was eating at the apartment's kitchen table, which was centered by a tall cylindrical vase filled with wrapped condoms. The crazy girl, in response to Justin's preference of Peri, first grabbed the vase and poured its contents out of a large window.
That was really just a terrible idea, I thought.
"I want to go get something else to eat," Channing said, hoping to initiate an exit before things got weird. It was too late for that, though, as the crazy girl grabbed the popcorn bag and flung it across the room, hurling microwavable shrapnel onto everyone's feet.
"We should get going," Peri said quickly.
"Good idea!" Channing cheered.
"I'll walk you guys home," Justin reiterated.
I looked down at the kitchen table. Now that there wasn't any food on it and no vase I could see there was a set of brass knuckles. I grabbed them and zipped them into my fanniepack and ran down the stairs.
I showed them to Lil Jenny the next day and she was impressed, understandably. They're not engraved but they just gleam [no scratches] and they're dense but not too heavy to string on a necklace.
"I think I'm just going to wear them around every day."
"Ha. Noooooo," she laughed. "It's like, an illegal weapon." I had forgotten all about gang warfare. Back in the fanniepack they went.
I was on the train [alone] a few days later. I was seated next to a semi-stylish, older woman when the train stopped at 34th St. Penn Station and on came two women in the same age group with short, fried blond hair, four-pregnancies stomachs, and ugly manicures. They sat to my left and began talking about Times Square and I'm pretty sure that the lady on my right was watching me watch them in light-hearted disgust. Breaking concentration, I opened my fanniepack to find a piece of paper with an address, but the woman to my right was still watching me as I shuffled around my brass knuckles. Then I zipped up quickly, for fear that the woman would recognize my concealed weapon; I was worried she'd If You See Something Say Something me.
Current Location: West Hollywood
Current Mood: lazy
Current Music: Bishop Allen -- Empire City
|Date:||July 30th, 2007 10:30 pm (UTC)|| |
Too bad; I bet that would have made a great necklace pandant.
aw...! my lil clepto!
i misses you.
moon over West Covina was huge and white
yeah. Los Angeles sucks if we can't smoke in your car and watch 1 1/2 channels on your TV
Re: moon over West Covina was huge and white
hahaha... literal laugh out loud.
i really misses you.
good things are happening here on the li, though.
i just got a job as the booking manager for the Nutty Irishman... they are bars in Bayshore and Farmingdale.
|Date:||August 5th, 2007 05:59 am (UTC)|| |
you need a display case, but that would be your hand...