Category Archives: drinking

30/5/08 Tripping Up.

I went to the city today and met with one of Rick’s journo friends (Shane) at Rockefeller. We had Pina Coladas and danced to great salsa music. That night I met Martin Spence (W 86th somewhere). i stayed there that night after listening to a jam session at Cleopatras. I was happy sitting there by myself after Shane left. Of course we had a great philosophical conversation regarding creativity.

This morning I woke up to one of Martin’s dogs licking my hand..there was a ferocious pong of dog all over the house, and that distinct older ‘bachelor smell’. I think Martin is a very interesting, complex, talented , creative individual, but I’m guessing he has had a tragic existence, he has that restless, edgy energy about him. He’s utterly obsessed with Prokofiev and tribal cultures; he has many ornaments/masks on the walls. I was very impressed to see a picture of him with none other than Bela Lugosi (ca. Dracula) and Prokofiev’s sons. His dogs appeared in a wool print advertisement in the ’80s! His apartment is in a rich part of town, UWS. After I finished looking around his apartment, I left a note thanking him for letting me stay and wandered off down the street.

Got a coffee and bagel for 3 bucks at 2387 B’Way 87th st. I rambled around, went to Times Square and bought manuscript, went on another sub and landed in 51st st station where I got my hair cut for $16 (Romas). Then I went to Canal St, 99c store where I bought a few towels and essentials. Got 5pm LIRR back to Long Beach.

I forgot to mention my romantic encounter today! Shane wanted me to scan my passport so maybe he could help me doctor it (in the end , I did it myself!). Kinkos was shit, so around 38th and 8th Ave I found a place, inside there was a very good looking guy with a nice friendly personality. He offered to help me photocopy my passport (a pretty straighforward operation!), we exchanged one of ‘those’ looks. Intense, brief, and powerful. I complained about having bought a shitty slice of pizza, eventually he said ‘if you ever fancy rambling streets again, I’ll be around’. We exchanged numbers over the photocopier.His name is Sebastien. I walked out of the shop, thanking him for his help…I could feel his eyes looking me up and down as I tripped over my green floral heels, a smile stretching from ear to ear. I turned the corner and almsot yelled with excitement, god, I thought, it’s been a while since I experienced that ‘zing’ with a person. Even if I don’t see him again (hope I do!), at least that happened. What sort of world would we live in with no romance? I got back to Long Beach around 6pm, wanted to get bus to the club, but kept missing it. I ended up walking all the way back, consistently making wrong turns. It took forever, but I was so ecstatic about the encounter with Seb that I didn’t seem to give a shit, until I arrived back and stopped walking. My feet are covered in the city dirt and my eyes are closing. Another great day. X

How to get ahead in NYC – Bitchery and ‘Campaign against sobriety’ – She can kiss my rockabilly ass

Wednesday night I went for dinner with a gorgeous trombone player…he is a friend of another horn player. I went to an old synagogue in the Lower East Side to hear some music, it’s such an old historic venue. A band played there, and adapted Hebrew scripts to sort of punk rock/afro beat/funk styles. The musician line-up was unreal. The trumpeter from Arcade Fire played BASS sax>he was on Tom Waits last 3 records also….the drummer from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs played>I spoke to him afterwards, he’s a nice guy, thought he was a lot taller! Chico Mann, Jordan McClean from Antibalas(we saw them in Governer’s Island).It was an enlightening experience! It was in celebration of the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah)… many shops are closed and the city seems to have sort of calmed down a little bit.

After the concert we all went to a dive bar called Johnson’s….it’s like someone’s living room from the 60s…it’s just one big room. There are couches there covered in plastic. They had a sign outside saying ‘campaign against sobriety’ with their drinks list. Had a great chat there too.

Sebastian is a strange creature. .I have seen him a few times and he’s been a bit ignorant to me. He has a new girlfriend now, her name is Donna, she’s a really nice girl, I hope she teaches him some damn manners. I left a bag with a blue wig I bought in that sit-down area in Times Square, I just thought it was cool for five bucks….I ran 4 blocks to expect it to be gone. It was there when I got there, he guy sweeping up the mess had hung it on the green iron chair(uncomfortable bloody things). Donna is  a good looking girl, she was hung-over when I was introduced to her, smoking a cigarette and makeup applied in a hurry (wearing cheap shades to hide the smudged mascara). I could see the state of her though; just a bad fucking day for her I’d say.

Having moved to NY I have learned the importance of  appearance, in a different way I mean. Working in that boutique in the East Village taught me invaluable marketing skills and some lessons in what I call ‘bitchery’, how to get ahead in the fashion world is by stomping all over those who make out to be your friends but really have no interest in YOU, you are merely there as a stepping stone for their success. Teams in stores, give managers a means of comparing constantly , the performance, image, attitude etc etc. It’s highly superficial in many ways, but I do love that charged atmosphere and get a real adrenaline rush when I close a good sale. It’s all about flattery; customers with more money and little taste love to be told lies, they thrive on it. We had them all; the fat , the skinny, the beautiful, the ugly, the successful, the depressed, the ambitious, the spoiled…..and we could dress them all, every single one of them, we would FIND something, and make it work! It’s amazing to read how much I learned in that short space of time in that industry. I will walk into that store next year 2009 and make a grand entrance. She can kiss my rockabilly ass and try to sell me overpriced dresses she stole from Urban Outfitters.  Seb is a real lightweight when it comes to drinking. One time we went to hear some jazz at Cleopatra’s Needle he had ONE apple martini and was singing all the way home with me, I felt like slightly embarrassed. Why drink at all in that case? He’s mad enough as it is, and judge mental!

Anyway that’s all my news…cab is $50 including tip, and I’ll get fed on the plane. I can’t afford a cab so I’m just going to have to get the subway all the way through Queens to JFK. I’m sure I can pick up gin and whiskey for you, any particular type? I want to get Blue Sapphire gin. I have to pick up a few things before leaving, I still want to buy my winter boots to live in 🙂 maybe pick up a few cheap presents..”””””””””””””””

“”””””””””I’m working away here in the **** Country Club – Yuppy Club in Mamaronek. Pain in the hole! they are such bastards, and the woman are old and saggy with boob jobs and giant lips. It’s freaky!

Anyway, I played in Central Park that time (31 Aug)…I played well, but the whole fucking thing was embarassing. It was like a school drama…the stage was decked out looking like tea room, with a smoke machine and tartan EVERYWHERE. This one guy played for over an hour himself…with a few dancers who were okay, I played for 15mins, during which the mic conked out…there was no-one at the sound desk, so I had to run back and forth and fix it myself. I got paid, that’s the main thing 🙂 and went for a lovely Burmese meal on 72nd and 2nd Av..really cheap and yummy!

foot fetish. Crackwhore. God. Gotham.

I’ve no idea when I wrote this, I found it scrawled on the back of a beer mat. Probably around July sometime:

“” I just came from my premier foot fetish party….just to see what the big deal is. There are, it seems quite a significant number of people get get off at this sort of thing. I travelled from 67 Av Queens to Midtown (the armpit of NYC) at 11pm. Midtown can be rough at this time of night.

I walked down past the well lit area of 34th St, around Macy’s / Penn Station….to get to the address::: W 38th St, between 8th and 9th avenues. There are horrible smells here, freaks, hobos, whores. I saw a lady shouting at the sky ” I’ll pay you back God, I fuckin swear I will, just get me some more man…” not a soul to be seen around her. She was probably coked out of her mind, speaking to her own demons in her head. I wondered what sort of person she is like without the drugs and pimps, where did she come from? What sort of an upbringing did she have? Sometimes it doesn’t matter, it seems some individuals are destined to end up in a situation. People like her are their own worst enemies.

I saw a guy whose ear melted on to his cheek, it looked weird, I couldn’t help but look. He held a small battery operated radio and sang out of tune with whatever was on. This is the real seedy Gotham city man. Steam rose from the underground, those fluorescent flags and barriers at street corners. The filthy dirty heat from the subway grates on the street. The smell of dried piss on these streets is almost unbearable. You feel warm but imagine the fucking filth!!!I deliberately tried not to wear flip flops or sandals because the dirt would disgust me at the end of the day.

Walking down these dimly lit streets I felt weird; not scared. I was looking around, smelling, and experiencing these elements as if I was watching a film. It didn’t even occur to me I could be shot, beaten, kidnapped, tortured, knived, pimped, raped….I was a single white female wandering these streets alone. Was I fucking insane? No -, and yes….

I’m in Union Square station now waiting for the R train to Brooklyn. It’s nearly 2am. I had a weird interesting time at that party…I did nothing but drink straight vodka and martinis. I saw things in that fetish party I’d love to repeat but you’d rather not read. I let a stranger suck my toes, he gave me a foot massage. I certainly was not dressed sexy, seductive or whatever. To be honest I was merely curious and wanted the free booze and weed. He whispered something really freaky in my ear “I love your arches baby…” in his painfully German accent, and leaned over. I turned and said, in my smokey voice, like a lady, “fuck you.”. I poured the remainder of my tasty martini over his tacky beige khakis (oh yes he did!) and strutted out of there at a moderately fast pace.

What a weird, freaky, dimly lit, obsessive, drug laden, erotic scene. Definitely the most bizarre experience in NYC I had. I try not to let fear dictate how I live my life. I try to be sensible and headstrong when needs be. I try to experience as many different facets of life as humanly possible, I try to enjoy every day. What happens in a day happens. Tomorrow is always another day, a new start, a clean slate. Changing things has to be your decision, the small things make a difference.

I certainly do not ‘get’ that foot fetish thing. It was nice getting a good foot massage, but I realized that German was looking for something a bit more, eh, explicit. I can’t even imagine my poor feet being subjected to whatever he had in mind. The other girls at the party are predominantly foot models, who pose for weird foot porn websites and are like foot porn celebrities, and therefore in great demand at these parties. They earn an average of $400-$500 a party plus tips. I wasn’t there for the money, I didn’t even know there was any money exchange involved, I just thought it was a house party…? When I saw a guy had a girl a thick fold of $20s, I was taken aback; “fuck! what is this a fucking brothel or something?”.Not my scene. Not my scene at all.

It’s 4am now, just on the 7 train back to Queensboro Plaza. I have to call Social Security again to see if they have sent my card to my employers in Long Beach. Mr P is holding my Social Sec card at a ransom of $100..?fuck that, he can kiss my fat Irish ass.

29/5/08 – DrinkyDrinky, Into the Sea,Rubbish Sex.

I am frigging wrecked after last night. Finished work around 7pm after terrace and dining room service for 300 firemen (it was Memorial Day). A few of us went to Reilly’s Bar where we proceeded to get very very drunk.. we bought more drinks in the store and went to drink on the beach. One thing lead to another and we ended up running into the ocean with our bra and knickers on..among other activities. I kind of fucked a chef in the shower rooms, but we were too drunk to get anything successfully ‘up’ or ‘in’ or actually make it happen. I don’t know why, it was random, he isn’t event attractive, he’s an angry, talented, passionate, troubled, chef with more baggage than he can handle! Riona successfully nailed Miguel, also in the shower rooms. It’s such a coming-of-age teenage movie scene, it’s not funny! I went to sleep around 7am, and woke at 12. I could have slept longer, but I was determined not to waste a single day, or opportunity to do something interesting. My muscles hurt all over, I’ve got random brusies that are going to show and a splitting headache/red eyes. I must have water/coffee/breakfast stat! Will write tomorrow deleriously happy now.X