Moving, Big Beginnings, Terrible Ends, and etc.

I'm moving. Not out of New York, not out of Brooklyn, but out of Flatbush. I'm moving to Prospect Lefferts Gardens. I'm across the park from Park Slope. A quick bike ride away from The Michaels, and their randy gang. My friend British Girl, and I signed the lease yesterday. Its a 3 bedroom proper. There's all kinds of space, and lots of closets, and its in a brownstone. There are 2 entrances. Its a remodeled railroad. Meaning that all the rooms used to be connected, not theres a giant hallway that connects them. Its really nice, I'll post pics.

I've had it with my job. My boss cut my hours for a reason that was basically rediculous. And when I literally begged for more, he told me that beggers cant be choosers. So in my experience of working in retail: cutting hours+ lack of mercy= they want me to quit. So I'm not one to disapoint. So after Lady B's visit is over, I'm finding another job. $8/hr isnt worth breaking my back over.

My first Pride is coming up! I'm so excited you have no idea. Everything is great! I cant wait to be swallowed in a sea of gay people from all over the world. If you're going to have a first pride parade, it might as well be THE Pride Parade, no?

The day after the parade is my anniversary of living in New York City. Promise I will post that day. MP is throwing me a little shindig at his place. Probably just the Michaels and a few other amigos, but I'm bringing British Girl and My friend Kat. So hooray for me.

The man JUST got back from Cambodia. I have mixed feelings about his return. I want to see him again and I want to talk to him and hear his voice and drink beer with him and chat about the whole experience. But thats partially the problem. I want him. I want him to stop me mid sentence and say "He and I broke up, I want to be with you. I'm sorry for treating you like shit. I love you so much. I love you the hard way."

I guess we'll just have to see how this goes.

My favorite things

Because I have no idea how to put what I'm reading listening to on my sidebar (I blame the shrooms), I'm going to post them. And if any of my amigo bloggers would like to send me an email about how to put that stuff on my sidebar I may hug you.

What I'm listening to:

The new Bright Eyes cd is absolutly brilliant. Everyone should hear it. I didnt want to believe that anyone could be my generations Bob Dylan, because Bob Dylan is still my generations Bob Dylan. But Damn Conor Oberst is pretty fucking close.

And Tokyo Police Club. Okay, imagine this: The Strokes and the Flaming Lips get into a fight in an ally. Who wins? The flaming lips, but they're covered in The Strokes' blood. Thats what Tokyo Police Club sounds like.

What I'm reading:

Yes this novel deserves the Pulitzer Prize. I cant wait until my nerdy grand kids find out I have a first edition of this book.

Big Moments

I sometimes wake up at night. I sit up in bed, my heart racing, my body covered in cold sweat. I look around my apartment for some sign of disturbance, the falled broom, my cell phone beeping from a missed call. A mouse. I dont see anything, I dont hear anything, not even my upstairs neighbor who seems to walk around in ski boots all day long and watch Oprah at a ludicrous decible. I put my hand to my chest, then to my cheek, and forehead. "Holy shit," I think suddenly, "this is my life now."

In the past couple of weeks I've been up and down New York on a rampage. Nobu, Gramercy Tavern, Century 21, Coffee Shop, H & M, Du Mont Burger... and there's more. My personal life has lead me into some tricky territory. The man is still in the picture. But old problems still persist. And though I would love to share them with you and hear feedback on them, it would be unfair to hear about it from my side, seeing as he doesnt know about the blog.

I went to a reading at KGB Bar on Saturday. My friend Martin read from his upcoming novel which I cant remember the name of right now.

I've listened to some really great music lately. Tokyo Police Club, Peter, Bjorn, and John, the new Bright Eyes album, Sondre Lerche...Just to name a few.

But even though my life seems to be slipping into the Sex and the City univers that I didnt ever believe exsisted, I find myself wishing sometimes that I was somewhere else. Which is hard for my to admit, seeing as I wished for almost 20 years that I could live here. Waking up at night thinking "One day that will be my life".

But I feel, sometimes, like I need to get out. Not out the city, not out of the tri-state area...out. Middle of nowhere South Africa, Peru, Malaysia, India. I dont feel motivated to do school work, because more than anything I cant see how sitting in a classroom will make me a better person compared to praying in Bhutan, or walking through Machu Piccu. I mean I'll have a degree, and it will help me get a job this is true, But from what I can see hardly anyone I know likes their job, especially not to the point of WANTING to go to work everyday.

Then big moments happen. Big moments are like little moments. But little moments are the moments you have with someone you really love, and they're brief. His hand clasping yours during the climax of makeing love, a kiss in the kitchen while your making a special dinner. The look he makes when you give him the perfect gift. His real laugh.

Little moments are the moments that, upon relfection, make your chest feel tight. Almost as though your lungs may burst. Your entire chest cavity feels like its expanding and collapsing at the same time.

A big moment is different. A big moment can be any length of time, a second, an hour, a year. It suprises you, and you come to settle into it. It runs at you full force and then as tunnel vision starts to set in and you instinctually lean backwards, it stops. And explodes in your face, like a brilliant parade of stars. And theres so much creativity coursing through your veins that you feel like at any moment you could cry, or laugh, or explode. The world seems beautiful, because its perfectly flawed.

I had a moment like this today, walking across the Williamsburg bridge into Manhattan. As I walked the shuffel on my ipod seemed to realize that I needed the kind of music that would make me feel like my heart could crack. This is the sea, by the Waterboys came on. Then more and more songs, about moving forward, and respecting the past started to play. I tried calling my friends, but none of them would answer. I sent 2 text messages to the man, who didnt reply. But I was glad for it in the end, it wouldnt have been my moment if I'd have had to describe it to someone else.

But here I am, sitting in my apartment. Listening to the upstairs neighbor who seems to work drug dealers hours, typing away about a life I'm not quite sure I'm ready to have yet. I think about my life compared to that of my friends from MI, and the youth of my friends here. My life is so different. I'm an adult at 19, and all it took was almost a year in New York City to do it. I'm happy here, but there are still times when I sit and think, "This may not be the place for me." and "I was TOO ready to live here". Its kind of comforting knowing that I'm becoming a someone in a city filled with someones. But its unnerving at the same time. Will I be one of those extra characters in one of my friends biographys? "The gay boy who moved to New York and found himself in the center of an Algonquin-esque circle." "Jesse, the Boy who never bought his own meal."

I worry that when I have kids, and they say "dont you remember when you were young?" I'll honestly look at them and say "no".

But I wasnt meant for that. I was meant for other things. More big moments, Bhutan, Florence, Tokyo. I just hope that between the big moments and the little moments that my heart doenst actually crack. Sometimes I honestly fear it might.