Friday, May 22, 2009

Wednesday night was spent in the East Village with Ghazi and Joseph and their respective girlfriends, Charmane (sp?) and Lucia (Lucy), making it a night of reunions and introductions. I also met Ghazi's main interlocutor at NYU--more on Anna in a moment.
The bartender Eyrn (add "NIS" and she is a Fury!) was phenomenal and made me a Negroi that was to die for (actually, two). Then, towards the end of the night, she whipped up a martini using Bols Genever--a forerunner to our gin. The Writer would like this stuff, I think, because it has the faintest hint of an earthy sake finish, while being a smooth gin going down.

After the bar we picked up some coffee and Bali Shag--the tobacconist in my parent's very, very vanilla town--the town where I grew up--ceased to carry my brand after I left--and we all went for a walk down the East River. Lucy and I had some good bonding time together as we walked, much to Joseph's discomfort, though he should have known better than to think I would ever malign him.

Thursday started with a drive down to Penn Station to drop off the sister--she's back in DC and our family reunion is over. But before we left we had a grand old time playing "Apples to Apples"--which only made me think for Adam 4 Adam. To our horror my Mother and I share a distinct sensibility when it comes to metonymy--perhaps this is why I still have to work so hard to overcome my past. *And no, that does not imply a Hegelian-structuralist dichotomy between "untamed," natural Woman/orderly, spiritual Man--simply: my mother is a paranoiac neurotic to the highest degree.*

After unloading my charge, I drove down to the West Village and spent 45min. traversing the old Dutch cobblestone streets in search for free parking, which I finally found. The whole episode proved to me that I could never live in a city with a car. I missed my bicycle in those minutes.

After leaving my car to the Fates I met up with Anna and her girlfriend in Washington Square Park. Anna, Ghazi's good friend in their department, is simply wonderful, and her g/f, Alexis will be going off to MAPSS in the Fall and we shot the shit about the program, Chicago, queer theory, transgender politics, and countless other wonderful distractions. It was a wonderful afternoon spent with two amazingly intelligent and simply good people--a rare combination. Alexis will do really well in the program, I think. She knows what she wants and has no inflated expectations--plus, she is hip to petty academic politics.

Paula met us in the park and whisked me away for Indian, which was incredibly generous of her. She looks well--gorgeous, actually. Running has been good for her overall well-being, I think. It was wonderful to see her again, and when we are both well. We tried, once, to do the "I'll take care of you if you take care of me" thing to distract ourselves from our own bullshit, and maybe I am responsible for pulling-out of that arrangement, but it didn't work very well. What has happened instead, however, where we both take care of ourselves, has served to be quite effective.
I really hope she and Ghazi reconcile, soon. It's clear she misses him, and it's equally clear that she's miles away from the head-space she was in when they fell-out. One can hope.

Walking back from the East Side to my car entailed a second detour through Washington Square, where I saw two former lovers. Apparently NYC is small, too. Though, one of them was with a beautiful boy, and that made me a bit jealous: there is nothing more unforgivable, I think, than a beautiful boy paired with a mediocre looking chappie. Perhaps why I am still single: I refuse to be part of an unbalanced relationship--and yes, my narcissism is quite profound: Nietzsche's ethics: do unto others, only if they are worthy of doing unto you. But then, that's also Lacanian/Freudian "desire": desire is for being desired, and one only wants to be desired by the best.

Fully sated on korma and nan Paula and I tried our best to keep up appearances, but she had run all day (6 miles! or more!) and I was still tired from the night before and spent all day baking in the park, so we finally gave up and I drove her home before promptly crashing once I got home---though not before chatting with a boy who found me on FB: very pretty, and a NYC partisan. And then there is this absolutely adorable and shy boy... We will see when I get back to Chicago. In the meantime I'm going to see Morris, celebrate Morrissey's birthday, and get a tan with Gramsy (pronounced "Gramsci").

I'm going to miss NYC--though I've realized what a wasteland my hometown is: yes, very rich, but no sense of culture: the boorish, gaudy Bourgeoisie. It's the smell of piss that flavors a random street corner, the incessant movement, the shell of artificial light that illuminates the night, the spontaneity of a park--multiple bands, chess games, beautiful people reading philosophy or history or queer theory, a big-band dance floor under the Washington Square arch, the ad hoc blend of chic and gutter punk feet away from one another... None of this can be found in Chicago: NYC is truly a polis.

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