you have to be kidding me with this ketamine phenomena.

I am going to try and start updating this again. It is something that at least kind of makes me look I am okay and fine and not too depressed. People who have blogs should update them regularly. That makes sense to me, so I am going to start doing that. I am not depressed, don't worry. Actually, I just moved to London. I was a little bit immersed with UK culture over this summer. Two of my roommates were from London, and one of their best friends was always over. I still remember all the times over the summer we were doing something definitely not legal, but got out of it by pulling the foreigner card. My roommate Richard would look every police officer in the eye and only respond, "I am from the United Kingdom." He said it with this sense of authority that made everyone back off without even issuing us a warning.

I had a good summer, and as much as I would love to post about it on here - I'm saving it all for a novel I have been working on. Besides, most of it involves incredibly illegal behavior...and hey - my family reads this.

I remember my roommate telling me about London, "Basically everyone in the UK lives their life as recklessly as possible all the time. No one cares, and hey - we have the NHS." So far - I haven't really found that side of London. In fact, over a group introduction email he sent out, one of his friends said, "that kind of behavior hasn't existed since you moved away." Surprise. But maybe I am wrong. The problem is - I'm not that into electro, haven't found any guys cute enough to grab my attention (except a Rastafarian gangster - but that's a different story), I don't like Ketamine, and have absolutely no desire to do Ketamine, ever. Ketamine is huge here. I still laugh when people start talking about it. I can't get use to the idea.

I don't love London. I think I can grow to like it over time. It's cold, gray, expensive, and it takes forever to get anywhere. People are rude, really rude. The ghetto is dangerous, really dangerous. The ghetto is almost kind of "cool" in Brooklyn, and the rudeness factor in Brooklyn is hilarious. It's for real over here. Everything is in your face, difficult, and unforgiving.

The most interesting people I have met have been guys on the West Side from Somalia, and Rastafarians on the East Side. I am about to meet up with one particularly intriguing Rastafarian - whose knife scars, tattoos, name, and attitude frightened me at first - but in my twisted mind I have turned it into attraction. My main question is, what the hell does a skinny white girl wear on a date with a proper Rastafarian gangster in Hackney? And is this guy going to be better or worse then a white band guy with locks?

I have a NYC vs. LND post just about finished that I'll post soon, so keep checking back.

where has all the morphine gone?

Yes, for the tenth time that bruise in my arm is from a six hour IV (and a misplaced needle). Haven't started shooting up (yet).

Hospitals in New York are the worst. The worst!

If you are emergency room styling it, you are actually around people who are dying. The curtains separating the stretchers are the most visually violating, nauseating thing since bad carpet in airports. It actually takes hours to get anything done, and those "receptionists" are utterly useless.

Quotes from the hospital (from doctors):

I had some morphine in my pocket, don't know what happened to it!

Does anyone remember who I gave ALL the Percocet to?

Really?! Hospitals are THIS spacey? And could I have snagged a bunch of morphine IVs, and no one would have known? Kidding....

***

In recent news, what is the deal with cops? My friend is at court right now for carrying a pocket knife with a spring load. I have been fully searched twice in the last two weeks. Once on the lower east side, and once in Williamsburg. The cops on the LES said they watched me, "get in and out of a car." Not true. I had walked out of my job. It was on camera. The cops in Brooklyn said I looked "suspicious." Looking suspicious does not constitute as probable cause, right? I can't even attempt to enter a subway without getting bag checked. And they call it "random." It's not exactly random when they choose to search me, right? I was in a car a couple of days ago. A cop followed us for ages. He was waiting for us to do something wrong, knowing he could probably arrest all three of us for something - just by the way we look.

I'm ready to move out of this country. And. I am. Really soon!

***

The worst kind of band guys? The ones who are self titled, and DJ with their Ipods.

And, how good is that new Grizzly Bear song - "Two Weeks"?!

at my apartment, join us...

WE ARE THE WILEY: A Benefit for Jon Wiley


A circle of Brooklyn-based friends have joined together to throw a benefit for beloved, local musician, Jon Wiley. We Are the Wiley: A Benefit Concert for Jon Wiley will feature Adam Green, Lightspeed Champion, DJ Johnny Tropical, and Chairlift at The Shank—an art space and concert venue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn—on Thursday, July 9, 2009 at 8PM.

On March 5, 2009, professional guitarist, bassist, and keyboardist, Jon Wiley awoke without feeling or mobility in his arms and legs. He was subsequently diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and incurred more than $30,000 worth of medical bills for his week-long hospital stay. After a lengthy recovery process, Jon has regained most feeling in his limbs and has gone on in recent months to record and perform with Lightspeed Champion, Adam Green, and his solo project, SpaceCamp. However, he is still without the means to afford his own healthcare.

Join us to celebrate the extraordinary talent of Jon Wiley, and raise funds to cover the expenses of a musician in need. This is a concrete opportunity to help a friend who, like so many artists and musicians in the United States, lack affordable healthcare. Jon’s story highlights the importance of healthcare for every person and the value of living each day to the fullest.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

We Are the Wiley: A Benefit Concert for Jon Wiley

@The Shank

98 Bayard Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

CHAIRLIFT + LIGHTSPEED CHAMPION + ADAM GREEN w/DJ Set by Johnny Tropical

Doors at 8PM (all ages)

Tickets $15 - all proceeds go to Wiley's medical bills.



To make a donation, go here:

http://wearethewiley.blogspot.com/


Thank you for your support!

getting to know you.

Pick up lines that don't work:

Scenario: Me standing outside of a bar alone.

Guy walking up to door: I like your scarf.

(I'm wearing a plain, cream colored scarf, that I found in the lost and found in a bar.)

Me: Thanks

Insert long pause while he stares at me.

Him: Well, do you like anything about me?

Door guy: No, she doesn't. Keep moving.

Thank you, no, I don't care. In fact, I really don't like the bright red cardigan tied around your neck.

***

Boy (overweight and sweating): What instrument do you play?

Girl: Percussion. Um. Do you play anything?

Boy: The most musical experience I have is after I eat bean burritos.

I heard this and the only thing I thought was, what kind of parents does this guy have?

***

In general, these don't work either:

You're hot.

Do I know you?

Have we met?

I can't stop looking at your eyes.

I want to ask you something, something personal, but I'll wait until tomorrow.

***

The bottom line is: I'm a terrible girlfriend. AND. I don't even want to date anyone. I know a lot cute guys. I would rather keep hanging out with them then play the oh-so-awkward "get to know you" game.

In recent news...I have my first soap opera audition this week. Send good vibes. I had no clue I fit that profile. If that doesn't work out - I'm taking off to Asia and Europe. Surprise! Totally bored in New York.

in your face boners, sarcastic but stylish burkas

A couple of days ago, I was sitting towards the back of my regular tea spot in Brooklyn with a good friend. A guy we both know, and see around a lot stopped by our table on his way to the restroom in the back. Neither of us know the guy very well. My friend stood up to say hi to him. I stayed sitting. I was half paying attention to him, and half paying attention to my book. However, I immediately noticed my friend giving me all sorts of weird looks with his eyes. I eventually put my book down to look straight at him. I didn't need to raise my eyes far to see what the looks were for. As soon as my head hit eye level, I had a giant boner pointing right at me. This guy we know, he is one of those guys who wears his pants really low (he's also Dominican, and from Brooklyn if that helps with the image description you most likely want in your head). His pants were literally so low - that a full boner could rest on the top of his jeans for everyone to see, pointing straight out - with minimal constriction. Thank god he remembered to button up his boxers. Thank god his boxers had buttons! The funny part is, I really don't think he had a CLUE about the state of his "privates." My friend rushed the conversation as quick as he possibly could. I didn't say a word. It took everything in me not to laugh (and point). After a few minutes, he headed to the restroom as if everything was right in his world. If he wasn't aware of the situation while he was talking to us - he definitely discovered his prize upon entering the restroom. He did stay in there for an extraordinarily long time. So - it looks like he did something about it, as well. Needless to say, my friend and I are still laughing about it three days later.

***

That same day I had to work at my dreadful bar job (I'm so desperate to get out of a bar, I asked my yoga studio for a receptionist application the other day...free drinks or free yoga...got to look at perks). I had thrown a black scarf around my head while getting ready to leave. My friend said to me, going for the Muslim look today - because you sure look like one. I told him there were a couple people on the lower east side who definitely don't love me, and love to talk about it. I can't help but to egg them on by doing small meaningless things that are slightly out of the norm. If I show up to work looking like a Muslim, and they are already looking for reasons to talk about me, I'm just doing the nice thing and helping them out. But come on, what do you really say about a girl who always wears head wraps, but today left most of the "wrap" - undone? Man, that girl...today she showed up to work with a piece of fabric over her head! I mean, who knows? It cracks me up either way. Anyway. I continued to say to my friend, I mean, it's not like tons of Muslims hang out at a Southwestern bar with a mechanical bull on a regular basis...or, ever. About fifteen minutes into work a group of five people walked in. The only five people in the bar. That's right, three of them were Muslim. I laughed to myself, and then sent a text to my friend. Two hours later we were hosting a 250-person party for a pharmaceutical company. I'm not exaggerating when I say at least two fifths of them were Muslim (mostly Muslim females). As for the rest? Two fifths were Asian, and one fifth were white or "other". I couldn't believe it! I can almost guarantee that I have never seen a Muslim person at the bar I work at. Those of you who don't think you can manifest things with your mind - you are totally wrong! Ha! But really? Is the pharmaceutical market that segregated? The funny part is - of the fifth that were white - a large percentage were blonde girls with fake boobs, matching tank tops, way too much make-up, and self-tanner lubricated skin.

Does anyone use tumblr?

I just started one.

dirtynails.tumblr.com

back back back

Oh, dear. It's been awhile. Sorry everyone.

So.

I moved back to Brooklyn. I was a little weary about it as I grew quite attached to the West Village (who wouldn't, besides those so devoted to Williamsburg's tight pants scene). I have lived in MANY places since moving to New York. See below:

East Village
West Village
Long Island City
South Williamsburg (Rodney)
South Williamsburg (under the bridge)
East Williamsburg (Graham)
South Williamsburg (Broadway)
Bed-Stuy (Malcom X area)
Bed-Stuy (Marcy Project area)
Bushwick (hipster dorm area)
and now...Mccarren Park area,.

I seem to always be taking sublets instead of leases. Add in a broken lease, a crazy ex boyfriend, and some not so ideal living conditions and I seem to be "always on the move." Transient. Vagabond. Homeless? Well, sometimes. However, I have gotten to know a lot of neighborhoods. I first arrived to New York with three bags, myself, and two hundred dollars. My cab took me to 10th Street and Avenue C. I was supposed to be meeting my subleter - who was not there. I called her only to find out she was in Jersey saying goodbye to family (she was going to Africa for awhile) and running late - could I wait a few hours? I looked around frighteningly - Tompkins Square Park scared the hell out of me (I was used to a different definition of "park"), and the East Village/Alphabet City streets - although I liked the architecture, seemed a bit shady. I waited for about an hour on my new apartment's stoop steps - that is, until a nice guy who lived in the building offered to store my three bags in his apartment (until the girl returned). This left me with time to explore, and in minutes I realized the East Village was in fact, my dream neighborhood. It contained everything I wanted, every reason why I chose to dash so quickly from vile Iowa. After an hour or so of walking, I sat down on ninth and A at Pick Me Up Cafe and drank Americanos until I got the call that this girl had finally decided to come back from Jersey.

I grew attached to the East Village and leaving it to be homeless wasn't exactly ideal. After my not so fun homeless stint (at age 18 - hello, scary), I spent a month on Rodney and South 5th and then moved to Long Island City for seven months. I loved Long Island City. However, my apartment was conveniently located next door to the Queensbridge Projects due to my faith in a scum bag broker (note: never use broker). I was a little bit too far from what I loved about LIC and eventually moved to Bed-Stuy. Where I stayed for awhile. I loved Bed-Stuy. In fact, I still love it. This was the mark of a two year Brooklyn run. It wasn't until a catastrophic break-up that I moved to the West Village. I left for Asia, came back, spent a month in Bushwick (which after Hong Kong - kind of freaked me out), and then ran back to the West Village.

So. Here I am. I'm in a huge warehouse space. After some altercations with the roommate situation, I'm incredibly happy with the living situation. The area is a little bit desolate - but as soon as it's warm outside, I'll be walking outside to one of my favorite "parks."

I have had to get use to a few things Brooklyn is filled with....

It's dirty here. There is trash everywhere. Rats ON the streets. Bad streets. It's loud. Construction (see - gentrification). Why do couples fight so much in public? Drug busts. People are rude in Brooklyn, so rude. Today while waiting to board the infamous L train, some chick ran up to me, grabbed my elbow and pushed me aside - so that SHE could get on first. It was absolutely absurd. As if we ALL weren't trying to get on that exact train. This is why Hong Kong might be on to something with designated lines to board trains and people who monitor that it does happen (I know that would be disastrous here, but still). And oh yeah, Brooklyn is NOT safe. I got mugged by kitchen knifepoint a couple of weeks ago. Not okay.

***

So. For those of you who live in New York but are from the midwest...it's really easy to accumulate a pile of stories that your friends in the midwest "would never believe." People are weird here. That's it. You can almost do whatever you want in this city and get away with it. This past weekend I saw something that actually shocked me. The human carpet. Has anyone seen this guy? He rolls himself up in a carpet (with holes for his arms and a flap for his face). He places himself amongst some hipster party crowd and lays there. He likes to get stepped on. In fact, he placed himself in front of my bar this past Friday and stuck a sign to the bar that said, "Step on Carpet." I'm serious. He laid there ALL night while dozens of kids jumped, stepped, and danced on him and enjoyed it. Or, got off to it? Sick. Seriously, what a sick man.

Williamsburg needs hipster trading cards. With all the key players - the promoters, the hype bands, the well known bartenders, DJs...with all the vital hipster stats. List of significant exes? Drug of choice? Thrift store of choice? I bet we could get one of those crazy locals on the street to sell them....anyone in?

Anyway. I'm happy to be back in Brooklyn, I really am.

Promise I won't wait so long to post again (in fact, "the work it takes to be a lower east side hipster" is on the way).