I am currently on Megabus en route to Boston for the weekend. Needless to say, I have four plus hours to kill and I am so happy I decided to bring my computer.
Here is the soundtrack for my trip. I suggest you take a listen:
I am finally and legitimately going through my e-mails and such for the first time in probably six months. Doing so has allowed me to laugh, feel uneasy and be bummed out all over again.
BUT, I did come across this e-mail that was between myself and one of my best friends from home – we shall call her “Newanda”.
I love this correspondence because it reminds me how much I freaking love living in New York Citaayy, something I was thinking while the bus was driving from Midtown, through Harlem, and past Yankee Stadium. I was thinking about how I have not one single regret or second-thought about moving here and how ridiculously happy I am to be here. Projecting into the future, this is a post I’m going to need to revisit when the Big Apple is rotten and I’m feeling self-loathing and small. Anyways, this portion of our message chain is me recapping an epic weekend that will now be a constant reminder of how pleasantly fun and lovely Brooklyn can be.
This weekend was a fucking blast and New York honestly keeps getting better and better. I will try to summarize Saturday as best as possible because A LOT of funness went dooowwwwn.
-J.H. (who I literally spend 6 days a week with) was turning 24 Sunday night
-I planned a surprise brunch for him but turned it into a picnic when I found out it was going to be 70 degrees.
-I also was going to a bday party at a rad bowling alley for French Matt, one of Bec’s friends from Clark who I fell IN LOVE with when we met
-Jeff sleeps real late so I figured I could make picnic, bowl and he would just be waking up.
-He woke up at 11 like a mofo so I had to scheme.
-Lied and said R.P. and I were going to get juice and left the house for 4 hours
DAMN IT this is so no abbreviated. I’ll try this
Bowling B-day = sunny bike ride. mimosas. mini cupcakes. beautiful French-speaking New Yorkers. seeing old friends. knee socks. lipstick. hugs. dance offs.
Picnic = Freestyle spoken word about Patrick Swayze’s pubs and boogey boarding in a bath tub and scalping grandmas (R.P. and I were champagne brains). running into N. P. who came to NY as a surprise. making new friends. watching hipster babes play football. yummy food. J. being so mad but then seeing the trickery and then falling in love with me all over again. pear mimosas. joints. abundant sunshine.
Post Picnic = fire pit in R’s backyard of her apt where she lives with SEVEN other people. Noah spray painting a crocodile with a bball cap. earning a bruce spingsteen mix cd. debating patty smith. beer. smores. J. LITTLE.
Post fire pit = meeting J. to get drunk and dance the night away. freestyle rapping about crescent moons and trash cans while on bikes en route to bar. pass z. smith on the street. tequila shots. huuuugs. 90s dance music and hip hop. BABE bartender with best cheek bones. appearance of mon amor French Matt (who is dating a wonderful gal named V.) who proceeds to tell me that he fell in love with me on the same day as I him and that we should wait another 5 years to see each other (bc I haven’t seen him in that long) and then maybe we should wed. I say Oh Mathieu and then we go outside, share a cigarette, kiss romantically but in a non-cheating way (ie no tongue?) and he whispers sweet French nothings in my ear (what is my life?). more dancing. falafel.
Post bar #1 = go to bar down the street where other BABE bartender friends work. drink for free. flirt my bum off. best dancing of my life to fleetwood mac gin blossoms et al. flirt more but then realize that I am bad at flirting bc when people may be into me I play TOO hard to get and then get nothing.
Post bar #2 = 40s. fruit juice. a pear. recreational drug use. wig wearing. music sharing. SLEEP
soooooo pretty much the best day ever. Annndddd when you come to New York, you can have your very own Brooklyn adventure
I can’t wait to see your face!!
Sigh. I’ll see you tomorrow night, NYC.
P.S. I realize this post may seem extremely vain, but what can I say, I’m happy as a clam. Sorrynotsorry.