The city is made of brave people, the cunts and the cunning. I can play the cunt for an hour or five, but cunning I still have to work on. Cunning is a bit evil because it's intentional; cunt is carelessness and then thinking too much. Here's to the second entry that never came. One of my worst fears has always been being pretty ugly. The theory behind pretty ugly is as thus. You know the friends you have who start off as physically unattractive people, but with time and your getting to know and love the person, they go through a duck to swan transformation - flaws suddenly become endearing features, asymmetry becomes character. Well, pretty ugly is when you meet somebody gorgeous, pleasant, and lovely looking, and by and by their beauty erodes because their personality cannot live up to their physical beauty.
At vanity's worst, I'm always acutely aware of my 'being' whenever I sit across the table with a friend. Playing the first-impressions game even though we've only known each other for 72 hours, and I wonder whether I'm a regressed duckling in their eyes.
Somehow, New York felt like a train ride of first impression and 72 hour friendships. There's only so much you can get to know a person an hour at a time. To be honest, there's actually so much you can get to know a person an hour at a time. It felt like I was speed-dating since day one, the endless where are you froms, what are you doing heres, and where are you goings. Oh you're a film producer and can make people cry in a minute flat, but you hate it, you hate doing that. That's all very swell...
I really love people. I love their beauty and love their flaws. I love their vulnerability and their big phoniness. I love how they are when they are drunk and how they are not when they are sober. I love my three in the mornings, dancing with drag queens (oh he was my favorite, oh was he not my favorite under the disco light bulb, oh was he not the only one I fell in love with?!), dragging my luggage across Queens, bumming around on New Years' with no destination.
But New York New York, this is my last rendezvous with you. I'm done with affairs and over deja vu. I'm leaving the wide-eyed little girl standing on the curb, and I'm dragging a life's worth of baggage and moving into Queens. Soon. When? Soon.
Soon.
Mama Roma When the Italian boys say "Ciao Belllllllllllaaaaa," I can count their every 'l' and every 'a.' I'm in love with their lethargic hellos and shamelessness. I'm in love with their love and in love with their style. I know in the streets of Paris and Roma, men drop down to their knees for beautiful women, and I know that I, Puritan and too idealistic at times, can only handle their love in the fiction world, but that in no way detracts from their art of flirtation, nor the power of their gaze, the way they possess you with hugs and kisses, even if they do wander to the next beauty in line five seconds later. I've always said Italy was the China of Europe. We're both messy cultures in love with food, big families, being loud with exaggerated gesticulations, but in truth, Italians roll in their Ferraris and are all swimming in happy hormones or something. I say live bravely. Drop down to your knees for the love of your life on the train whom you held a steady gaze with. I say do worship women but don't be a shady New York man being all predatory. I say I say Ciao Bellllllaaaaaaaaa. They were the best, these kids.
Ari My favorite Jew tells me that, in fact, he knows a dozen stupid Jewish people, but I'm less inclined to believe him now that I've met him. This kid whom I mistaken to be Adam the Australian guy after a flurry of meet and greets at the hostel, funnily enough, is now in Australia. And Ari says, -There are just slightly more Asian people here than there are in San Francisco. Y'all appear to be taking over Sydney. (Not that I mind at all... I love you guys the fucking most!!!!!!!!!!!) -Speaking of which, there is an abundance of Japanese, Chinese and Korean supermarkets. -All the shops are the same as those you'd find in NY or CA, for the most part. Thanks a lot, international mega-coprorations...! -The price of a haircut is still only $10. What A RIOT. I would say more but words are not enough to encompass all that is this kid. I wish with every fiber in my body that someday, I could live like him, that I could pick up my life for the love of my life and not be fazed one second by the airline losing all my luggage, that I could smile so genuinely over friends and pocky, at the same time. I love you kid. Thanks for being in my life for 20 days.
Ssinjin The baby was born on Christmas. Alena said it felt like she helped give birth to the kid. In a way, I think all the Theme kids feel this way. Holding the baby in my (rigid, clumsy, not-very-mommy-at-all) arms had to be the most solidifying moment of my life... He was so small, so fragile, and so waiting to be loved, and there is so much love, so love waiting for you little one.
Ham Lam My favorite snark Ham Lam and I are going to conquer the creative world one day with our super vision ingenuity and hardworking Asian ethics, that is, if he doesn't kill me with laughter first.
童童 It's three o'clock with the red light floatin'. She loved the red light in the hallway because it made the brown in his eyes glow maroon, and she took photographs because she wanted to be like Shu Qi in Three Times, shining black lights on his profile. He wouldn't understand why she got excited all over a red light. It's a dollar fifty for a red light bulb at the supermarket, he thought in his head, and if you want I'd buy a dozen and fifty for you. It was three o'clock when she jumped up and packed her stuff. She threw on loose jeans and a sweater over her pajamas. She threw on a mask and wouldn't look at him. She shook like a baby girl and he couldn't even touch her. When she went for the door, he could only whisper "what's happening? Why is this happening?" She could hear the awe in his voice and the see the hallow in his eyes. Tong Tong said, "I never know what to say around you. Around anyone else I can't shut up for the life of me, but I like you too much, don't you understand?"
But baby words words words I lived for words.
It was three o'clock when she dragged up luggage into the night, and it took two blocks for her to start crying. It was the godforsaken soap opera rain falling from the sky, and it was the dim orange street lamps that followed her shadow everywhere, and it was the thought of leaving New York and the thought of leaving that made her cry, and it wasn't the first time she cried for a guy she didn't love and it won't be the last time, but she thought about how he looked at her in the dark, smoothing her hair and kissing her as if she were a jewel.
Here we were made of loneliness, and love was never so easy for two seconds. You've made her both woman and girl, and she's made you nothing but woe and longing. I can write a book about her affairs in New York, and all it is are a series of leaving. She's always leaving. "You're always leaving," he said. Stay still and let me look at you. "Don't look at me," she says. Let's finish the porno videos and leave when it's over. She prefers the ones with a good plot and a lot of dirty talk.
Millenium Mambo Millenium Mambo... Mambo Millenium.
It was three o'clock when she said: Tong Tong, I'm sorry Tong Tong. Free again.
Disco Drag Queen The drag queen was made of beauty like no other. He took me to the dance floor under the disco bulb and we danced as if we were in love. His eyelashes were long and his eyeshadow shimmered brighter than the lights. When he spun me around and pulled me close, it was as if the stars collapsed at our very feet. I loved him as he loved me, two traveling stars streaking by one second in a lifetime. I loved him as he loved me, and we belonged to no one except the bright lights.
Conclusion, I'm too dreamy and too in love with love, too flighty to be any good. Hey woman I need you to focus and stop losing your numbers all over the place. I need you sane and not so full of yearning. I need you to not love every face on the subway, but New York, I can't do it, I'm in love with your tired and the hungry, your poor and your rich, your models and your hipsters, your every face. What can I do except nourish myself with 75 cent buns at Mei Lan Hua? The granpapas there make me as happy as a five-year-old... and if I spend all my life washing dishes there I think I will be okay.
Leave a spot on the train for me city.