Co · bedzie · Twoja · przygoda?

DEAR EVERYONE BACK HOME,

I told Dad I would write last night, but after our field trip through the slums I felt like I had spent the day sucking on an exhaust pipe. And after these couple of weeks in India, I think I know how Zane Lamprey felt after taking those tequila shots, getting blindfolded, and having his head shook around in that one episode of "Three Sheets". When I wrote last week, I left off in Aurangabad, where we climbed to the top of Daulatabad Fort. That same day, we visited another landmark of the town--the mini Taj Mahal, which was built by own of the founders of the city after his mother made him. It was actually pretty big, but I'm sure no where near as impressive as the real thing. We stopped at a sari shop after this, where we saw some of the last remaining silk weavers working away at their looms. Apparently, it is all done by machines now and after these old men are gone, there won't be anyone to pick up the tradition. The girls fussed over all the different fabrics and debated on what to buy for a really long time. That night we had an 11:00 train back to Bombay, so a few of us ventured out to get supplies for the trip, although we are such a spectacle just walking down the street. We checked out of Hotel Amarpreet, and our bus driver was late so we just barely made our train. The group in our car gathered into the bunks to tell scary stories and share alcohols before settling in for a little sleep. We arrived back in Bombay at 7AM, and this was not a pleasant way to start the day. We were greeted by a eunuch prostitute who was posing against the side of our bus as people washed and peed and began their day. We made our way to the domestic airport, which is actually a whole lot nicer than the international airport. Sumita and her husband watched all the luggage while we nestled into a lounge for coffee and breakfast, then made use of the nice bathrooms. Lorena got corn off the cob from a stand called Fresh 'n' Juicy as we checked in, then everyone else followed suit. It tasted like it was right off a plate of Mom's dinner, which made me happy but also sad. Our flight was delayed, but only a little bit. The airline was called Indigo, so everything was blue in hue. I was nervous to fly, and tried my best to sleep through it, but the flight was little over an hour. Our bus met us at Bangalore's airport and brought us to Christ College, where we are staying during the three weeks of classes at the Centre for the Study of Culture and Society. The campus is actually really, really beautiful and so are our rooms. I just feel like a monk living here. I had been feeling really sick since we arrived with body aches and a fever, so I could barely explore the campus with everyone else that night even though there seemed to be a lot going on. And the next day was the first day of school, which felt a little disarming to say the least. I took a Tylenol PM and went to bed. Our shortbus picked us up in the morning and brought us over to CSCS, which is really just one little building, in a really nice neighborhood that makes me think of the Hollywood Hills. Sumita went over the course she'd be teaching on media representation in India, then a kid served us coffee and tea before in was time to break for lunch in the little courtyard around the back. Our afternoon class is taught by a man named Ashish, who seems like the one running things at CSCS. His course is called Mapping Bangalore: The Global City, and we've been watching a lot of interesting films dealing with the city's IT culture. After this first day of class, we walked down the busy road Christ College is on toward Forum Mall, which is five levels and way nicer than any mall back home. A few of us explored, overjoyed at this Western familiarity, but I still felt like I had the flu. I bought some orange juice and digestive biscuits before going back to get in bed with my iPod and sleep of the rest of my illness. We were back at the mall the very next day, some getting McDonald's and some getting Subway. I really enjoyed my turkey sub--my bowels could not handle any more spicy lentil sauces and fried crap. We celebrated this girl Idil's birthday by going to a club called Zero G. We all had to take auto-rickshaws, which was excited because I hadn't taken one yet and I think it would be so much fun to drive one. Our driver had trouble finding the place, but so did everyone else's. When half the group showed up, we decided to just go up and check things out. They were charging Rs 1,000 per guy while the girls got in free, so I guess it was a good thing there are only five guys on this trip! The club was on the roof of a big building, with great views of the city and lots of foreigners and locals dancing. They love Enrique Iglesias here. Nightlife here ends pretty early, so we were back a little after midnight. The next night, everyone planned to go to Pizza Hut and then to see "Harry Potter" but the movie was sold out through the weekend. We just took our time eating lots of pepperoni pizza, which tasted to me just the way it would had I been eating it with Dad and Grace in Clarks Summit. Sometime during the night, this girl Raquel was taken to the hospital and we all thought it was because she ate a double-cheese pizza despite being lactose intolerant. When we returned a few days later, we learned she actually had dysentery and was puking blood/crapping tissue. India is no joke, and this was a wake-up call for all of us. We were supposed to leave for our trip to Mysore that Saturday, but Ashish was making us go to BarCamp4, which we were told was some kind of techie convention, where IT geeks met to discuss and argue about computers. The campus it was being held at was nice and green with lots of tall termite mounds. The people there reminded me of the guys who show up on "To Catch a Predator". It was kind of a waste of time, and only a few of us ended up going after Sumita made it optional. Sunday morning, we left for Mysore pretty early. I got to call home and hear about Grace's premiere as Belle in "Beauty & the Beast". It made me excited to see her, but really sad that it would be so long. Once we reached Mysore, we went straight to the Maharajah's Palace. It's really beautiful, and there are elephants walking around all over. We were not allowed to take pictures inside the palace, though I really wish we could have. It was all very extravagant, and definitely reminded me a lot of "Marie Antoinette". Some people went on elephant rides, but I didn't feel right about doing that. I just didn't like the way the driver cracked the elephants on the head with their canes. We were taken to Hotel Siddhartha, where we'd be staying while in Mysore. We had seen signs for Olive Garden, which made everyone cheer, but this ended up being Le Olive Garden, a Chinese restaurant in a really beautiful bungalow with monkeys and peacocks all around the area. It was all very very classy, though the food was nothing to write home about except that here I am writing home about it. That night we went to Brindavan Gardens, which was sort of underwhelming for the amount of people that were there and the amount of time was had to wait in traffic to get there. This is where, in Indian folklore, Krishna courted Radha and began their legendary love affair. We ate some pizza back in the room before going to bed--we were told we had to get up at six. As it turned out, the time was changed to eight and we never got the message. Lorena and I basically fell asleep at the breakfast table before we left for Chamundi Hill. The reason we had to get up so early is because there are 1,000 steps leading to a giant Hindu temple at Chamundi Hill. However, the bus driver told Sumita he could just drive us up instead, which cut two hours right off. We went down the steps though, and at the bottom was a giant cow that I think is made of coal. The rest of the day was reserved for shopping, as Mysore is famous for its silks and sandalwood and spice markets. While in one such market, this guy with no teeth tried to sell me drugs and talked to me about how much he likes Pink Floyd and the song "Hotel California". I guess I should leave off here with a To Be Continued... because I don't want to get locked in the internet cafe. A week from now we are flying back to Bombay, and from there I will make my way back to all of you. I miss you more than words can say.
This has really been the best and worst month.

LOTS OF LOVE,
Gregory Jude Wazowicz

FEBRUARY:
6th - Started working at Rough Guides.
7th - Visited Becky in Portland.
16th - Grace visited to meet a soap star.
17th - Reunited with Phil Zegelbone.
20th - Got ashes.
23rd - Worked at New York Times Travel Show. Drank with my Sociology teacher.

MARCH:
2nd - First time to Uniqlo and Beast. $20 sangria.
3rd - Jonny came to visit and Lorena cooked for him.
4th - Surprised Grace at her production of "Crazy For You"
5th - Journalism class took a field trip to Marie Claire.
9th - Threw Chloe a surprise birthday party.
28th - Becky, Cassie, and KP drove to Brooklyn.

APRIL:
6th - Took Lorena home to Scranton for Easter.
7th - Dyed eggs. Lorena's first trip to Wal-Mart. Blue Sreet Bar.
8th - Easter Sunday. Watched "Jackass 2" with my whole family.
13th - Last day of internship (so soon!)
14th - Ashton's baby shower.
17th - There's a whale in the Gowanus Canal!
19th - There's a dead whale in the Gowanus Canal!
20th - Sneaked Indian food into BAM for "Grindhouse"
21th - Rooftop BBQ with Pratt kids.

MAY:
- Sakura Matsuri at Brooklyn Botanical Garden.
- Will be working a lot.

JULY/AUGUST:
- Will be in Bangalore, India.

The staircases of Oregon.

My winter break is officially over, and this is probably a good thing since all I did was drink beer and eat the entire time. Today was the first day of my Spring semester, and I have to say that I got off to a rocky start. But first, I really should backtrack about a month or so. Fall semester wrapped up rather seamlessly—I gave my presentation on the ills of Vice magazine for my journalism class, taught my art class how to design their own children’s books, and scrambled to finish my ethnography papers while shamelessly handing in an incomplete portfolio to get credit for my internship. In honor of my 21st birthday, Lorena and I had our first party in the apartment, and I could not have had a better time. Chloe drove in from Philadelphia, and Becky from Penn State, to celebrate with our friends from school and the city. We had more sangria than the Iberian Peninsula, along with what seemed like every kind of beer imaginable and various liquor brought by various guests. I adhered to the theme of Saint Nikolaus, making people leave their shoes outside so that they could be filled with treats—such as tampons, candy canes, loose change, and pills. Whatever was lying around the house. As more and more people showed up, I got more and more drunk, drinking a bottle of champagne just because I thought it would be funny. Somehow I managed to make out with everyone in attendance. And so did everyone else. After finally falling asleep with Becky on the inflatable mattress, I woke up with the worst hangover I think I have ever had. I told everyone, if there were a guillotine in Brooklyn, I honestly would have decapitated myself. Lorena started cleaning the apartment very early, and Chloe helped, while Becky left for home with Cassie. When I got my life together, I went with Lo and Chloe for some delicious burritos. Then we walked around Park Slope in the cold and bought tickets for “Apocalypto” which turned out to be the greatest movie I have ever seen. Lorena and I tried to catch the bus, but just ended up walking home. As the semester wrapped up, I assembled my caravan of luggage and met Lorena in Chinatown to catch a bus to Philadelphia. We bought desserts in a little bakery and drank bubble tea that was way too sweet. On the way, we watched “Labyrinth” until my laptop died. Chloe and her roommate were throwing a holiday party, which was filled with professional young people from Baltimore. We all gushed over Katie’s little brother, and made nice with her coworkers from Anthropologie. I fell asleep in Chloe’s bed, then she and Lorena joined me. Lo went back to New York with Matt, so Chloe and I wandered around the city, eating falafel and shopping. I had to borrow money to get a bus ticket to Scranton, which was way too expensive and takes too goddamn long anyway. When I finally got to my house, it was in a state of chaos, but I was happy to see my family and help finish preparations for Christmas. My brother and his girlfriend took me out the next night, buying me lots and lots of drinks. Alex and Liz were able to get into The Bog, so it was nice to have them there too. It was a fun night, though I was kind of nervous to go drinking with my brother. My mother made the Christmas Eve dinner, and all the Polish relatives came over. I talked to my cousin Joey about his trip to China, where he taught English and ate frogs. Christmas Eve is my favorite night of the year, but I was not really feeling it. I can usually smell it, and it can make my bones just shiver, but this night might as well have been Halloween to me. Or just another night. Blah blah, commercialism, blah blah. Christmas Day was pleasant, and there was great food at my grandmother’s to be had. I got presents like a Little Mermaid ornament, a blender, a VCR, and a Chinese movie about gay people. My Mom said that Grace picked it out. I continued to eat leftover stuffing until about New Year’s Eve, when I played poker at my Grandma’s house. We rang in 2007 with some fireworks and general merriment, then I went out to meet up with some friends around one o’clock. We went to a party at a house in Green Ridge that I could have just walked to, and I fawned over Zak Zavada before going home to bed. With the holidays now behind me, I began to fashion a steady routine of getting coffee with Becky, and going to the bar with Alex. Louis and I drove to The Crossings so he could buy something for his grandmother to give to his boyfriend for Christmas. I bought the same thing for myself, a reasonably priced sweater from Burberry. I just decided I needed to have one nice sweater in my life. Then he took me to one of my favorite Indian restaurants, the one in the train car. Eventually I returned to Lake Scranton and started running again. The holiday weight was getting out of control. It was really foggy on some days, and I would see deer that were close enough to touch. One day it was so cold that I was sure the head of my penis had frozen and was surely going to fall off. Becky moved to Portland on the same day Chloe drove to Scranton for a visit. I hated not having her around the corner anymore, but I have since booked a flight to go visit her in Oregon the first week of February. With Chloe in town, we went for crab bisque and Cooper’s and drove up to my lake house to tell scary stories before realizing it was only six o’clock. We watched “The Office” with my father, then went to Perkin’s and The Green Frog. Alex had been seeing this guy Donovyn from Montdale, and one night we ended up at his parent’s house in the country, which was very funny and weird. I thought about going back to my summer job, but decided it would be too miserable. I tried not to loaf around the house too much, and did a lot of laundry for my family and cooked dinner. I waited and waited for Omer to get back from the Hajj with his mother in Saudi Arabia, mostly because I was lonely. We hung out a little when he finally got back in town, and I got to see some of his pictures. He looked so handsome and grown up. Hm. I used my time to clean my room and donate all my clothes from middle school and early high school, and figured it was no wonder I had been so miserable, wearing shapeless Abercrombie t-shirts and muted beiges all those years. During my last weekend in Scranton, I had dinner at Formosa with my family and began to pack my shit. Adam Goldman came to Scranton, so we took him to Victor’s bar and to Kelly’s apartment. He left his good weed in Philadelphia, and we really had nothing to do. Adam and I decided it would be fun to masturbate in a plastic cup for Kelly to put in her vadge to see if she would get pregnant. Just to see. I left on Sunday afternoon, and managed to maneuver all my suitcases onto the subway and to my apartment. I almost expected the electricity or the gas to be off, since the apartment had been empty for an entire month. My new semester began at 8AM today, with History of the Spanish Conquest. I dropped it right after. Then I went to my journalism class with my old teacher, and I think I’m going to drop that too. My literature class was canceled, and this sent all four of us that registered for it into a tizzy. I kind of wandered around campus aimlessly, and eventually figured out how to get an appointment with the Chair of the Writing department, tomorrow. I hope I don’t whine too much to him. I don’t want my schedule to get fucked up because I am trying to work at Penguin, for Rough Guides. I also want to get a job in a bakery. Lorena is coming back tomorrow, and I think I have to go meet her at the subway in Bed-Stuy at six in the morning if she can figure out a way to call me. I am also having a mattress delivered so that I won’t have to sleep on the futon anymore. There is nothing else to say other than I wish a werewolf would bite me.

Also, I got a new tattoo. It's a cricket.

Twenty-one feels an awful lot like twenty. But one month before my birthday, I was registering for classes and going on a field trip to Sports Illustrated. It was one of the most boring places I have ever been to, but my journalism professor married the editor-in-chief and my school couldn’t afford to send us anywhere else. It threw me off kilter to see so many straight men in one area. My Mom and Grace came in that weekend to visit, and Abby flew up from Miami to meet us. It stressed me out a little bit to have them all here, but we had a nice time together. I assured them that there were plenty of places to have a late dinner in Park Slope, but wasn’t so sure when we were wandering the dark streets and everything was closed. Except some little diner where the waiter was angry and a little mouse darted across the floor every few minutes. My Mom screamed at the top of her lungs every time she saw it, then went back to eating her sandwich. The next day, I took them for soul food because my Mom wouldn’t shut up about it. Abby’s flight wasn’t until the middle of the night, so after my Mom and sister left, we got some sushi and watched “The Amazing Race”. When the new week started, I went with Zach to see “Babel” and then met Brandon to see Joanna Newsom at Webster Hall. Someone yelled “Show us your tits!” at the opening act girl, and I thought that was so gay to yell that at a Joanna Newsom show. Joanna was really sweet and played all my favorite songs wonderfully, but I was so sore from standing that long. During the weekend, Alex and I ate bad Chinese food and saw “Borat”. A guy came into the restaurant and goes, “One cup of delicious wonton soup, please!” Then looked around the room and smiled. We had to meet Miss Yamin and the Scranton High Art Club at Pratt for Portfolio Day. She threw us in a van with all these chaperone mothers from Scranton and we drove over the bridge into Manhattan. The moms were fucking funny and we did our best to scare them with the possibility of their kids going to college in the city. They dropped us off on Houston, where I was cruised by the kid who played Tom Cruise’s son in “War of the Worlds,” then we got cappuccinos and dessert in Little Italy. I love Miss Yamin. After Alex got a fake ID from Sean Dana for her friend’s birthday party, I went to see one of the “8 Films to Die For”. It was about this woman who goes to Russia to find her birth parents and inherit this scary house. I tried to get tickets for SNL because Ludacris was hosting, but it was far too late, so I walked down to Chelsea to meet Lorena and Nelson. We ate beignets across the street and got ice cream next door. I woke up really early the next day for a yoga session in Harlem, then had to do a lot of homework. That week I got to go home for Thanksgiving, and the house was really messy and everyone was stressed. Thanksgiving was sort of depressing anyway. My grandmother’s turkey was fantastic and I feel like I ate four pieces of pie a day all week. I saw “Bobby” with Becky and Omer, and it was the most boring movie I have ever seen in my entire life. The Alexgiving party was nice, though it took us a while to get up to the cabin. Kelly’s car got stuck in the mud, Denzel puked nori seaweed, and I smoked pot with Ashley Bogaski. It was sad to leave though. I got back to NY and found out my checking account was in the negative. Apparently the check I wrote for my MTA fine bounced. The Marketing Director at my internship bought me a yoga mat. Then I had to sit on a Q&A panel for the internship program, where I talked about stealing books for your friends and learning not to date people in your office. That weekend, I had to help Lorena carry her heavy view-camera all over our neighborhood. It was so cold and Lorena is such a sloth. A pigeon pooped on me! Oh New York. When I was really bummed out one night, walking home from the subway, a little tiny boy on a bicycle steadied his steering so he could wave at me as he passed. It was just so nice, and my day seemed better after that. Corey Janus was in town visiting that weekend, so on Saturday I made my way down to the Marriot at the WTC site, where she was staying with Becca. We drank a lot of wine and smoked in the room before going out to meet Bowen at a Cooper Union bar. He took us to an opening at the Museum of Comic Books…or something like that. At another bar on Second, Corey and I got kicked out. We were starving, so we went next door and I had the best Indian food I have ever had in my entire life. That whole meal seems so ethereal when I think of it now. And it was so cheap! We met up with Kyle in Union Square to walk westward and find Becca, since she was turning twenty-one at midnight. 14th & 10th is such a weird area on a Saturday night. I immediately felt unsuccessful in life and that there wasn’t enough black in my wardrobe. On the L, I hopped off at Union Square with Kyle after giving quick hugs. I walked into my apartment around three, though Lorena reminded me that I said I’d be home by nine. And my birthday, how could I forget! I mainly spent the whole time obsessing over a dilemma with UPS. I had ordered a pair of shoes, but was never home when they tried to deliver my package. I called a million numbers and stopped UPS trucks all over Prospect Heights. When I was walking home Tuesday night, I walked up to a UPS guy in his truck and asked if he delivered to Saint Marks Avenue as he shook his head—“You already asked me that.” I couldn’t have been more ashamed if I had said “You know, all black men look the same to me” or used the N-word before shuffling away from him. UPS told me I had to pick that shit up at the warehouse in East New York. Alex agreed to drive me, though it had just closed when we finally found the place. She drove me back to Pratt, where I met her friend Francisco and got to borrow his bike. The next day, Wednesday the 6th, was my birthday. I spent it by calling in sick to work and watching the Iraq Study Group interrupt “The View”. Then I braved the streets of Brooklyn with Francisco’s bicycle. It was very scary and ultimately invigorating. I had the directional sense of a migrating albatross, but when I got to the warehouse I was told my package had never been taken off the truck and it was on its way for delivery. I couldn’t summon the energy to get back on the bike, but I eventually did. I felt like God was trying to tell me I should not have these shoes, like there was a tiny Mexican scorpion living inside one of them just waiting for me to slip in my naked foot. I biked back to the apartment, to Ithaka, snot frozen to my face and a cold sweat permeating my jacket. At least I survived (how awful it would be to die on your 21st birthday). I took a bath, thought I saw the face of Jesus in the fogged-up bathroom mirror, and waited around for the UPS man who never came. Then I had to meet my parents in Times Square, because they took the bus in to see me on my birthday. My mother had warned the night before that she was bringing a girl from work—Becky, who “is 24, and a single mom, and she’s never been to New York or seen a Broadway show!” The subways were fucked up, but I met the trio at “Les Miserables” just in time. We had box seats, like Abraham Lincoln, and the performance was great. We took Becky to Rockefeller Center to see the Christmas tree (she’s so nice), and then walked back to find a place to eat. Times Square fucking sucks. We ate near a fireplace in Rosie O’Grady’s. I opened a few presents from people at home: a homemade scarf from Mem, a nativity set from Grandma. It was sad to see them get back on the bus, because it all felt so rushed. I rode the Q back to my apartment, feeling like I wanted to shout “Today’s my birthday!!!” to everyone on the train. On my birthday, I always think about how every day is probably someone’s birthday that you pass on the street and you would never know. The card from my sister made me want to cry, but I cracked up when reading the card from my parents. My mother writes, “The love and pride I feel for you can only be described as ‘intense’”! I just thought that was such a funny thing to write. Lorena and I are having our first party in the apartment tomorrow, so I spent some time getting alcohol after we went to Big Enchilada. When I was waiting for Lorena at Parsons, this one international student told a guy who works there that he looks like the short gay guy from “Grey’s Anatomy”. That was almost as awkward as the time I saw this homeless guy try to pet an old man’s dog, and when the dog tried to jump onto him, the old man yelled and the other guy thought he was yelling at him for trying to pet it. When the old man tried to explain, the other guy was just like “Forget it!” It was just such a terrible moment for everyone on the whole sidewalk that day. I had to go to the offices of Vice Magazine in Williamsburg (where else?) today because I am doing a presentation for class about why I hate it so much. I hated even being there, asking for old issues and pretending I don’t despise the work they do. But once all my final papers are handed in, I can head home and see my dog and have Christmastime. I have not been saying the Christmas prayer, but my mother did send an Advent calendar in the mail. I get sentimental reading this fantastic book I took from work—Adam Rapp’s “The Year of Endless Sorrows.” I was blown away when I read this one part Rapp writes after finding out the STD he thought he got from this girl was actually a reaction to her cat’s fur: “I simply returned to the general insignificance of my life the way one returns to the favorite roller-skating rink of his or her hometown: as if very little has happened and no time has passed.” (!)

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I'm just so in love with the Christmas lights in Prospect Park--

I have been drunk for four days. A lot has been going on! Four weeks ago, I left my internship and headed down to Canal Street. I stood in the rain with a cup of coffee, and eventually Alex pulled up in her car. We were driving home for the weekend, she to see Nelson and me to see Abby, who had flown in from Miami. The driving was pretty dicey on the way to the Holland Tunnel. Then we sat in traffic for a while going through Newark. Around nine or so, we met up with Alex’s mother at The Crossings because she had been doing some shopping there. She bought us sandwiches and we continued toward Scranton. It was a very relaxing weekend. My aunt adopted a new dog, a sheltie mix named Jazz. He really is the happiest dog I have ever met. My Grandma made a big dinner, Grace made cookies. I ended up skipping work Monday to stay home another day, because Alex wasn’t sure when she was driving back to Brooklyn. I took a bus at five o’clock on Tuesday morning, which was kind of a nightmare. That Thursday, I had to do ink drawings of the Brooklyn Bridge downtown with my art class. I arrived pretty late, but it didn’t seem to matter. I drew this window washer who was sleeping on a bench next to me, also. That evening, I walked over to Cooper Union and met up with Linh from my journalism class. Anderson fucking Cooper was doing a presentation on Doctors Without Borders, and I anxiously sucked down my bubble tea as we waited to be let inside and Linh gave me all the gossip from her internship at CNN, where she sees Anderson regularly. Cooper Union kids are all really distinct, and also really sexy. There were so many horny middle-aged women there to see Anderson, plus a smattering of young gay men to do some ogling of their own. Hannah and Linh’s friend Jeremy joined us as we used a press pass from Linh’s internship at CNN to get downstairs. While preparations were being made, we drank some wine and tended to the cheese platters. Soon, they let us in and we got seats very close to the stage. After I went to the bathroom, Linh pointed out Anderson, crouching in the corner, consulting with an assistant. Seeing him in person was everything I could have imagined. He spoke eloquently about the important cause, and showed his field report of hunger in Niger that I have seen a million times before. I couldn’t help but stare right at him like a creep and whip out my cell phone to take pictures and videos. My heart thumped. I slipped out a little early so I could see the end of “Survivor” at home. I am pretty sure Anderson didn’t stick around to sign autographs or anything. I then headed back over to Manhattan to meet Lorena at the L-train in Union Square. Rebecca and her roommate Shira were having a party at their apartment in Williamsburg. It took us a while to find the place, and I was again reminded how glad I am not to live in that part of Brooklyn. Their apartment was very colorful and set up a lot like ours, and we even discovered that Rebecca and Shira had almost taken an apartment in our own building. It would have been hilarious to bump into them while moving in back at the beginning of September. Lorena and I drank all the beer and ate all the cookies, then some boys from Israel showed up and they didn’t really know any English. We left with our two new drunk girl friends and took a cab home, which was totally worth it. After my internship the next day, I met up with Lorena and we headed down to the Angelika on Houston to see Michel Gondry’s “The Science of Sleep”. I hated being one of those people who come in from Brooklyn to see films at the Angelika, but I really enjoyed it. I even saw Elizabeth Dilk, the girl I want to marry. Later on, I ran into Ashley and her British dancer friend Becca. Since it was Ashley’s birthday, Becca was making dinner at her place, a beautiful brownstone she shares with her boyfriend, which was actually just two blocks from mine. They invited me over to get drunk and play Cranium. Becca and I were partners, and she would say things like "Well done" in her charming accent everytime I got something right. It’s crazy to think about someone my age already living with a boyfriend though. Lorena and I spent that Sunday at our new laundromat on Vanderbilt, sorting colors, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes outside. At FSG the next day, once Rose realized I was there, I read a 400-page manuscript called “Sugar: A Bittersweet History”. It wasn’t bad, and I learned a lot about slavery in the sugar cane fields of Central America. In my critique, I wrote that its story would work on both The Food Network and The History Channel. On Tuesday, I bought a lot of crap at Urban Outfitters, then headed uptown to start a new job as an art assistant to this photographer named Bill. I have never seen such a fancy apartment. I just had to put acrylic on a bunch of prints, and got paid $12/hour. It was an interesting night. That Thursday, Lorena and I were supposed to see C.S.S. at Webster Hall, then go to their after-party at the place where Nicole works. We decided not to, since we were tired and thought paying $25 just to see Ladytron’s opening act wasn’t really worth it. Chloe was in the city, and we met up with Eva to have dinner outside at Senor Swanky’s, by Washington Square. Not a bad burrito. My margarita was ten dollars. The next night, I had a date with Chloe to see Sufjan Stevens at Town Hall. I grabbed a bagel at Murray’s, then we headed up to the show and went in during the opening act. That creepy Jon Norris from MTV was sitting nearby with his boy toy. Sufjan’s band came onstage wearing tunics, carnival masks and butterfly wings, then he came out and sat at his piano, wearing eagle wings, and began to play “Sister”. It was one of those make-me-melt moments, and I felt wonderfully overwhelmed. As it got later and later, Sufjan kept playing my favorite songs and I had to keep texting Ryan about having to get a late train to Garrison. When the show was over, Chloe dropped me off at Grand Central, right nearby, and I got on a 12:30 train to Garrison. It was freezing at the station, where Ryan picked me up and we began our redeye journey to Penn State. The roads were pretty empty, aside from an occasional fog that enveloped us completely. Ryan’s mom packed us snacks, and I snuggled up under one of her blankets, vowing not to fall asleep on poor Ryan. I did for a little, as we drove into State College around five o’clock in the morning. We parked the car and walked over to Liz’s apartment in the freezing cold. It was so nice to see Liz. Her roommates were all passed out with their hookups, so the three of us got into Liz’s bed and fell asleep for a few hours. When we woke up, I got to meet Liz’s roommates and their respective one night stands. I took a quick shower and got ready for the tailgating adventure. Liz’s roommate put a temporary tattoo of a blue Nittany Lion paw print on my neck, so I could show my school spirit. We headed out into the sea—on this, I am not exaggerating—of trailers, and tents, and eager football fans outside the arena. I have never experienced anything like it. I was in culture shock. We found Liz’s friend Tracy, and her friendly family. They fed us and gave us lots of beer. Her mother even made me wear her lime green fleece because the entire family had decided I didn’t “have enough meat” on my bones to keep warm. It was barely noon. At a Penn State game (I still have no idea who they played or who won), like St. Patrick’s Day in Scranton, you get drunk all day. We made preparations for Tracy’s lavish surprise party back at Liz’s, then I met up with Becky to go to dinner at Green Bowl. It was amazing to see Becky, and the food was also amazing. Back at Liz’s, Emily and I cracked open our first box of Franzia, and smoked cigarettes out of the faux-balcony (“falcony,” if you will). More and more people arrived, including Tracy, who was very surprised. I blasted the playlist I had prepared, and we got fantastically drunk. I saw Kleeb, whose birthday was also being celebrated, and then Adam came after work. I danced with Emily a lot, and Liz and Becky and Donna. Ryan’s ex-boyfriend Mike came eventually and I shamelessly hit on him, completely unaware that he was in a secret relationship with Rob. Penn State gays are very secretive. This made Ryan really upset, even though my saturated brain concluded that he had given me the green light, so much that he didn’t talk to me for most of the drive home. I went to brunch with Becky and Adam at The Waffle House. We passed a line of anti-abortionists outside a clinic and Becky screamed obscenities at them. I ate blueberry waffles for the first time in a very long while. It was sad to say goodbye to Becky, then to Liz. As I packed my bag and took my medication, her friend Donna, sitting on the other side of the room, was able to guess my prescription exactly just based on the sound it made. It was probably the most unbelievable talent I have ever seen anyone possess in this world. Pretty soon, the debauchery was behind us and miles of Pennsylvania highway lay ahead. I had to apologize to Ryan for being a lush, and we drove toward a giant, complete rainbow over the road near Bloomsburg. The traffic sucked. Ryan dropped me off at my house in Scranton, which was on the way, so I got to surprise my family and sleep in my own bed. I took the familiar five o’clock bus early the next morning. It sucked. That night I went to the movies with Zack from work, and also to Chipotle. We saw “The Queen” starring Helen Mirren, again at the Angelika Film Center. It was a fantastic performance. The next morning, I downloaded the new Decemberists album before going to school. At first I found it annoying, and decided it sounded like The Eagles or really lousy Dr. John. I have since warmed up to it, especially the song “Sons and Daughters”. Later on, I went to the Study Abroad Fair, and reunited with Sharon from Boston University. She had more to tell me about the travel writing program in Australia, which I really think I should do. Around five, I went up to Bill’s to apply acrylic to photograph prints for a few hours. At FSG the next day, I had to work for Lisa mailing rejection letters to juvenile literature writers. It made me really sad at first, but then I decided it was bullshit the way every person thinks they can write a children’s book. Still, every time I wrote someone’s address on an envelope and slipped in a form letter expressing our “regret to inform…” I thought of the person who would be receiving it. So many of them were women in the Midwest with stories about imaginative cats. It was depressing. On Thursday, I planned to go to “The World Can’t Wait” protest rallies, but I thought it was going to be much bigger than it ended up being. Our generation really doesn’t care, do they? After finally realizing this, I went home to go running and watch reality television. Zack told me to go to his friend’s going-away party in Williamsburg, but I couldn’t get Lorena to come. Instead I met Bowen at the Bedford stop on the L and headed over to Zack’s place. He has a beautiful loft with two other Princeton grads that I really liked. The roof was really unbelievable. It has a perfect view of Manhattan, and panoramic views of the entire metropolitan area. I was really speechless. We walked over to the party, just a few blocks away, where I met some Princeton juniors that were cutting lines with credit cards. Bowen took off soon, then Zack’s roommates. Once we finished our beers, we left too and walked by the Domino sugar factory. I peed on one of the plants back on the roof and took in the view some more. I would have slept on that roof if it weren’t so cold. Work was pretty gay the next morning, and I was tired and hungry. I had to fill out invitations to a book release party at The Mercer Hotel. I stole so many books that day, too. It was pretty obscene. I got some Chickpea before going home. Lorena and I discovered a discount liquor store by our house, and bought some wine. Then we cooked dinner and drank. This process was repeated the next day. I had to go to the Brooklyn Museum for my art class, as part of an assignment in which we design our own tour based on a common theme we discover. I chose a theme of Regality, and spent the day drawing images of queens and kings, thrones and staffs and crowns from all over the world. It is really a beautiful museum, and only a couple blocks up the street from our apartment. I kept saying “Wow” out loud, after turning every corner. There was an exhibit on New York subway graffiti, and the Egyptian wing was called “Art for Eternity”. I sat on the steps outside, while a Hispanic Heritage month celebration went on nearby, and waited for Lorena. Of course, she was being slow. I tried to take a picture of this little girl, who was watching the fountains spit up into the air, and bundled up in her pink sweat suit. I thought she perfectly embodied the feeling of that day—cursing the cold of the new season and wishing it were still summer. I was too shy to just ask her if I could take her picture, so I had to sneak it from far away. I met Lorena to get coffee, not knowing she was trying to trick me into going shopping at Target. I wriggled out of it and went running before it got too dark. I wore long underwear, and Lorena said this made me look like Peter Pan. It was a really great run, and the moon was huge and yellow, hanging low over the lake while people kissed under it. I am so in love with my neighborhood. I find more and more things to appreciate about Brooklyn every day, and I really couldn’t imagine myself living anywhere else.
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Once I tied up all the ends left loose from the summer—namely, my last session at Dr. Hassett’s, my last run at Lake Scranton, my last drive to the cottage, my last family dinner at Don Pablo’s, buying a sleeping bag to use until my futon arrived at the apartment, and getting my hair cut with Grace—I felt ready to move back to New York. It was like moving to New York for the first time, really. I had my own set of keys, a landlord, a box of Becky’s old silverware, and no dorm to check into or R.A. to tolerate. I was really excited. Matt agreed to drive me, and his girlfriend was originally going to come with us but she had to bartend. Becky was able to come instead, and once the car was packed and goodbyes were said, we were off. It rained a lot that day. The highway was blanketed with a gray mist for most of the trip, and I got to see Matt smoke for the first time as he sucked on Camel Lights and trudged onward through the lousy weather. We got a little lost in New Jersey, on the way toward the Holland Tunnel, because we are used to taking the Lincoln Tunnel. We made our way down Canal Street and across the Manhattan Bridge to my neighborhood in Brooklyn. It didn’t take long to get all my crap up the two flights of stairs to Apartment 3B. We drove back over the bridge to Michael’s place in Alphabet City, where Lorena met up with us. Then we got some food and beer at a place across the street before going back. I thanked Matt and Becky, then saw them off. Pretty soon, Lo and I were smoking on the fire escape and unpacking our shit. I got that done pretty quickly and put a movie in. Our first night sleeping on the floor was really peaceful, but Lorena tossed and turned. We went to the mattress store the next day, walking through a sketchy neighborhood that seemed entirely comprised of car washers and collision repair centers. At Sleepy’s, a frighteningly enthusiastic salesman greeted us at the door and proceeded to make a deal with Lorena. People like that really fascinate me. We walked down the street and ate soul food at Soule on Fulton, even though we were intending to have brunch. It was fucking amazing. We ate cornbread, curry chicken, fried yucca, and collared greens. I haven’t had such delicious food in a while. We headed down toward the mall area, needing random junk for the apartment. Every store was such a zoo, so it was really irritating and we didn’t go home with much of anything. We got coffee at Prospect Perk, one of my favorite cafes in the neighborhood, and drank a lot of sangria back in the apartment. I got to explore Prospect Park the next day, and situate myself with a new running route. I am really obsessed with the trail there. You need to be careful not to run too close to the curb though, because I have nearly stepped on a dead rat more than once. When I go later in the day, as the sun is going down, people tend to run a lot faster as the park gets darker and darker. Monday morning, around five o’clock, Lorena woke me up and said “The Crocodile Man is dead.” We were really upset about Steve Irwin for the next few days, and Lorena kept talking about how he wasn’t meant to die. That night we ate Indian food and watched “Wife Swap,” trying to ignore the fact that we had school the next morning. The Q-train commute was really easy, and I’ve actually grown to enjoy my daily excursion into Manhattan. I get to see the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty every day on the way to school. My art class is a little annoying, but the teacher is sweet and I’m excited to delve more into the New York art world. I really love my class on ethnographic fieldwork. My professor is a little French anthropologist who is sometimes hard to understand, but really knows what she’s talking about. It’s a very interesting course so far. My journalism class had a change of professors, so I was a little disappointed not to have Tracy Dahlby. His replacement is pretty nice, but I wish the kids I go to school with weren’t such duds. I had to interview this girl from Staten Island, and we presented one another to the class. Alex’s old roommate Sari was in the class, but I think she has since dropped it. Lorena and I headed home afterward, then got coffee and sat with the owner of Prospect Perk for a bit. One of the girls across the hall and her boyfriend got robbed on their way back into the apartment, and they had to use my cell phone. Lorena was scared about our new neighborhood after that, but Sid the landlord changed the locks the next day and swore to install security cameras. I still haven’t told my parents about it, but it was a wake-up call to say the least. Lo and I stayed in and ate a lot of pizza on Friday night. The next morning, I had to get up early and head downtown for “The Big Draw”—an event sponsored by The Drawing Center in Battery Park City. It was kind of annoying to go, but I didn’t really have anything better to do on a Saturday morning. At the seaport, artists were demonstrating scrimshaw techniques, and fashioning giant ropes. My next stop was The Museum of the American Indian, which I had never been to before. It was a really beautiful place, and very active with all the children set up with easels in the rotunda. I took pictures of the merriment and browsed the craftwork displays, then ate a little lunch outside at Bowling Green toward Wall Street. I stopped at Trinity Church, which I have never been in and decided I would have to see what it’s like. I explored the cemetery outside, with its beautiful old gravestones, before heading back to Brooklyn. Alex, who lives about half a mile away, picked me up in her car to go to dinner. Lorena ate with George and Michael nearby, so we met them afterward and talked about sex for a long while. On Sunday morning, we went to Port Authority and took the crazy shuttle to IKEA in New Jersey. It was such a fucking nightmare. We still don’t have a table for the kitchen, or a couch for the living room. On the ride home, this guy called his grandmother and talked loudly about how he got paid to sit in the audience at “The People’s Court”. Everyone laughed at him. On the subway, this lady with a baby sat next to us and proceeded to strike up a conversation about IKEA with us as she took out her boob and breastfed the baby. We then had to lug all our heavy bags back to the apartment, stopping for really good coffee at Muddy Waters. Then we had lots of Italian food delivered. I could not sleep at all, because my internship was starting the next day. I arrived on time at 19 Union Square West—home of Farrar, Straus & Giroux. There were a few other interns waiting, and soon Linda came out to greet us and give us the tour. I just remember smiling a whole lot, and opening the doors for everyone. I was excited, bright eyed and bushy tailed, like a little squirrel. All the other interns are graduates, which I was unaware of. It is a big boy internship. That day I had to work with Rose in Adult Edit. She had me opening and forwarding fan mail to the home addresses of writers like Jonathan Franzen, Thomas L. Friedman, and Joan Didion. In my head, I was already writing a memoir about the hilarity of it. Rose was kind of weird—she told me to take however long I needed for lunch, but "not four hours". I took about two. I didn’t think she needed me, so I wandered around the green market outside in Union Square, and overheard the September 11 memorials in the park. There were some really awful bands playing, and they passed out lyrics for a sing-along of The Beatles’ “All You Need is Love”. I thought that was pretty ridiculous, because I guess I think you need more than love. It was really clear that night and I could see the “Eternal Light Towers” (or whatever they are called) beaming into the sky from the WTC site out of my bedroom window. Wednesday at FSG, I had to work in Subsidiary Rights with Jennie, and then down to Juvenile Lit Edit after lunch. I had to read a manuscript about this girl who moved to Tennessee and complained about it a lot. Then I got to write a really mean critique of it (likening it to a Lindsay Lohan movie) for Lisa, and I think FSG is passing on the manuscript. As they should. Phil came over Thursday to hang out and go to dinner, but I needed to watch “Survivor: Cook Islands” and watch the racial disaster unfold. Friday at FSG, I worked in Publicity for Brian and Audrey. I assembled clippings of book reviews from magazines and newspapers, then sent out manuscripts to reviewers. I did this in Laurel’s office, whose phone rang and rang—calls from important writers who she advised about CNN interviews and book signings. I was always tempted to ask “Who was that?!” every time she hung up the phone. I left early, into the rainy green market, bought some pumpkin bread, and headed down to Canal Street. I huddled under the awnings of a souvenir shop, overwhelmed by Prada knockoffs and out-of-towners, waiting for Alex to pull up to the curb. We were driving back home for the weekend, she to see Nelson and me to see Abby, who surprised the family by flying in from Florida. We had insane traffic, and the rain never really let up. I could never drive like she drives. We had to meet Alex’s mother at The Crossings, where she finished some shopping and we ate sandwiches. Alex dropped me off on Columbia Street around ten, and I headed inside to the open arms of my family. I didn’t know I missed them so much. Basically, I ate a lot all weekend (Colarusso’s pizza, Grandpa’s chicken, burgers from The Glider, and Fresno brunch) and watched a lot of “Wife Swap” with Grace. My aunt Mem got a new dog, and I really love him. His name is Jazz, and he’s a collie mix that is always happy. I skipped my internship on Monday, which was okay, because Alex was unsure of when she was driving back. I ended up taking a bus back at 4:45 this very morning. I like having to get up for things when it is still dark out. I had a lot of shit to carry back to Brooklyn before heading to class at ten. During the day, I got a voicemail from Kim at Rough Guides of Penguin Group—a travel guide company I called all summer about internships. She offered an internship opportunity in the imprint marketing department. Paid. Fourteen hours a week. From September 25 until December 1. I really don’t know what to do with that. Decision like this are for adults, not dumb little kids like me. And I can’t stop dreaming of weird shit like little Sasquatches and losing all my teeth.
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Where do I even begin? August was just such a funny month. On Monday, the 14th, I had to work at a Super-Sweet 16 birthday party at The Radisson. I was blown away when I walked in, because there was a slushie machine, a caricaturist, and a million palm trees to convey a luau theme of some sort. My sister got invited, so I was excited for her to be there. We didn’t really have to do much, because everything was already set up for us and the dinner was a buffet [of crap like chicken fingers and fries] so all we had to do was clear dishes and man the slushie machine. I think I had twelve slushies. It was pretty boring for me, but I liked hanging out with Grace and introducing her to the people I worked with. She won a CD from the deejay when she was first to identify the “Charlie’s Angels” theme song. It felt like a long night. I instinctively felt bitter about the extravagance of the party, but then I found out the mother was dying and this was supposed to be a last hurrah of sorts. Isn’t that terrible? Once we cleaned everything up, there wasn’t a whole lot to set up for the next day. I wished that this had been my last night of work, because I felt such closure saying goodbye to everyone. I had to give Tara a ride home, and I was so glad I did. She talked about her daughter and going to school for criminal justice and wanting to get out of Scranton. It was sweet, and probably the last time I’ll see her. Alex called during the party to tell me to go over to her house and have some drinks. There, I met up with Liz and her guy Kleeb. We had beers and Alex decided to go meet Nelson after they had been fighting all night. The rest of us stayed at the house and drank and drank. We went swimming in the rain and danced around the living room, then sneaked shots of the specialty liquors in the kitchen cabinets. It was not too bright of me, as I woke up without any clothes on in Alex’s brother’s bed--caked in puke! Not one of my star moments, obviously. I’m lucky I didn’t die. Alex was only mad that we drank her mom’s liquor. I slept until four o’clock in the afternoon. That night, I went to see “The Descent” with Becky, who I hadn’t seen in a while. It was decent--scary and fun to watch, but ultimately pretty exhausting. My family left for Atlantic City early the next morning, and I had to drive them to get the bus in Wilkes-Barre. Later on, I skipped out on “Project Runway” (thankfully, because Allison got cut) and met up with Liz and Kleeb to have coffee downtown. Joe saw me and made sure I met his new date. I saw Nicole Doenges and Meghan McIntrye. Liz, Kleeb, and I walked around a lot, then decided to go to Chick’s until three. This drunk old man named Murdoch sat down with us and told us he had just gotten out of prison. I didn’t want to ask what got him there in the first place, afraid he might say something like “I stabbed three kids in a diner.” He fished around in his pocket for something he wanted to show me, which turned out to be a set of false teeth. What more could we expect? We made plans to go to Claws ‘n’ Paws, but I had to work--my last day! It was pretty lame, just a late funeral dinner for some Mason with salad and pasta stations. I wasn’t there too late, and no one really knew it was my last night. I left a note for my boss, because she was on vacation, and thanked her. That is such a crazy place, and I am happy for the experience, but even happier to finally hang up my tuxedo for a while. That night I packed a bag and tried to get a decent amount of sleep. I had to wake up early to catch a bus to Atlantic City and meet up with my family. It left from the Viewmont Mall, filled with old ladies and their husbands, hungry to get to the casinos and gamble their hearts out. The ride was pretty quick, and the driver put on “Batman” with Michael Keaton really loud. Probably because everyone was so old and couldn’t hear. I just remember opening my National Geographic and being there by the time I looked back up. Going through Philadelphia kind of tugged at my heart strings, knowing now that Chloe would soon be moving there. Becky called me in the hotel to say she had gotten in to PSU and would be moving to Portland, Oregon in about a month. I was so thrilled for her, and excited that I would get to visit. My Mom was shocked that she’d be going so far away but I know it will be great for her. We bummed around the beach, I read my Dale Carnegie book and got burned by the sun. We went to a Cuban restaurant, drank mojitos, and dropped my dad off at the bus to go back home. Grace and I walked up the boardwalk and went on this bungee ride, which I can only describe as a giant sling-shot. I was actually really petrified, and my legs were shaking even long after it was all over. I don’t know when I got so scared. My Mom didn’t believe us when we told her what we’d done. We shopped around the next day and spent our time at the beach, but the Jersey Shore is so fucking filthy and it smelled like sewage. I’m pretty sure there was a turd just a few yards from my beach chair. Atlantic City is just a sad place overall, probably because so many people lose all their money there. We had a delicious dinner at Mama Mott’s, then got on the crazy bus back to Scranton. This time we watched “Down and Out in Beverly Hills” and I was somehow enthralled. I had another early start the next morning, this time getting on a bus to New York. Then I made my way to Grand Central Station to get on a train to North White Plains, where Chloe was waiting to pick me up. I took a nap in her bed, then we got ready to go pick up Lorena at the airport. We made a sign that said “Bienvenidos a America” and drew soccer balls and shit. The plan was to pretend we were picking up our foreign exchange student, since I was too shy to do the marriage proposal or prom date scenario. We waited for a very, very long time, because a bunch of planes arrived at the same time and this caused a back-up at Customs. Eventually, Lorena came around the bend with a giant suitcase and a cute new haircut. It was wonderful to see her, and it soon felt as if we had never left each other. We sat in traffic for a while on the way home, then went to have Japanese food in one of those private booths. We drank Samurais--plum wine and sake. Then we got an ice cream cake to devour later. Lorena was still on Barcelona time, so she passed out for quite a while. We spent most of the next day looking up apartment listings and making phone calls and appointments. It was a really frustrating, awful process. We got burritos at Azteca that night. Lorena and I took the train into the city the next day to make our way to Prospect Heights and meet Steven the realtor. I called at the subway stop, and he said he would meet us there. After a while, we kept promising ourselves ‘If this guy pulls up in a van, we cannot get in’. Sure enough, he did and we did. The apartment was only a block away, in a pretty crummy area. The building, however, was brand new and still being worked on. The apartments were pretty nice--big rooms and balconies with Manhattan views. We could afford it, too. Steven was a fast-talker and knew how to make a sale, pointing out my Polish tattoos and expressing brotherhood with his being Ukrainian. Lorena had her arms folded the entire time. I told him we had to see another apartment not too far away, and he said we wouldn’t find anything nicer. We did! Down towards Park Slope and the Brooklyn Museum, we walked up to a little brick building on Saint Marks Avenue. So did two girls, our age. They were also there to see Sid and the available apartments. They were also Juniors at Parsons. Sid was a flustered young Asian man, who led us upstairs to the third floor. The building had been gut-renovated and everything was fresh and new. The wood was beautiful and the kitchen enchanted Lorena with its new appliances and custom spice racks. The girls, Tiffany and Deborah, had been looking for three weeks, gotten screwed over twice, and said this was the best they had seen. We all looked at each other, and made the decision right there. Tiffany and I sat at the kitchen table and filled out the applications and paperwork for credit checks. Lorena and I explored the neighborhood some more, and I loved it more and more. We got a sandwich and went to Prospect Perk, where our soon-to-be neighbors also were. We chatted for a while, then went to see the next apartment just in case. This was a family house in Greenpoint, not too far from McCarren Park. Barabara, who was supposed to show us the place, said she was sick and we would have to come back later in the week. It didn’t matter--the building was gross and still had Christmas decorations. Everyone in Greenpoint looks just like me--Polish. Everywhere people spoke Polish and all the stores had Warsaw falcons adorning them. It was pretty funny, but I felt like I was in some neighborhood of Scranton. There were some apartments to see in Jersey City, but we canceled those appointments and headed back to Chloe’s house with smiles on our faces. We got some sushi and went to the grocery store. I called home to talk about the apartments and fought with my Mom about my finances, or lack thereof. I felt delusional, like I shouldn’t have been getting my hopes up about the apartment. We finished the wine we had gotten the night before and watched some of Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rope”. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. My mind raced like it did on Christmas Eve when I was very little. I went up to the guest room to sleep with Lorena, even though the sun was now up. We looked up some more apartments, ones I could afford, then I talked to Bowen and my boss at financial aid about taking loans for housing. It would all be okay, and I was able to explain it to my parents back home. That night we drove to Playland in Rye, NY. This is where “Big” was filmed. We ate junk, posed in the photo booth, went on a haunted house ride, and watched some amazing fireworks over the Long Island Sound. I loved it so much. My Mom and Grace called the next morning to say they wanted to meet me in New York and see the apartment. I met them at Port Authority and we got on the Q. My Mom met Sid and his mother, then I showed them around the apartment. My Mom actually really loved it, so we took care of the paperwork, signed the lease, and got the keys. I showed them the area some more and admired the beautiful Prospect Park, then we sat outside at Burrito Bar for a while. I was really beside myself, and couldn’t let go of my new set of keys. It was like a had gotten back some part of me that had been missing. I can’t wait to move in. The three of us took the bus back home, and I couldn’t sleep like I usually do. It felt like Christmas Eve again. The next day was spent setting up for Crab Fest, which began as my aunt Mem saying she was going to make a lot of crab legs next Saturday. We made signs and hats and all kinds of shit while watching “The Joy Luck Club” so Grace wouldn’t have to read the book. I love that movie. Crab Fest 2006 was a great success, to say the least., even though the weather wasn’t so great. We ate a lot, and drank a lot, and I played a rousing game of “Would You Rather…?” with my aunts and my brother’s girlfriend. This eventually turned into “Who wouldn’t you have sex with over Tom Cruise?” For a few of us, sex with Osama, Hitler, Michael Jackson, or Charles Manson was still preferable to sex with the crazy Scientologist. Well, there is still so much to do before I leave. I have to move into my new apartment soon and hope I’m not too excited to sleep in it.

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Oh, Canada! I finally made it to Montreal. And made it back home safely. However, it was very touch and go for a while leading up to our departure. I was worried about getting across the border because Becky could not find her birth certificate. Priya told me she made it across with just student loan documents and her driver's license, but I still didn't think we could risk it. On Wednesday morning, with our bags packed and gas tank filled, Becky and I headed to the State building downtown so Becky could request a new birth certificate. It would only take two hours, but that still seemed like forever to me. We had to kill two hours, and so we walked over to the Steamtown Mall just as the shops were starting to open. It was really bizarre, like we were skipping school or something. We sat in the massage chairs by the Piercing Pagoda, and I bought a new pair of jeans. We got coffee and used the computers at Northern Light, then bought medicine at CVS because Becky had an earache. Then we went back to Becky's to pee, grab some fruit, and change into my new pants. Her new birth certificate was ready by noon, and it was a thing of beauty. Finally, we hit the road--only to be stopped by a traffic jam on the expressway. Once we were on I-81, the driving got easier and it finally sunk in that we were going to Montreal. The journey up wasn't bad at all, and I really got to improve on my navigation skills, since I was so bad before. I even drove through Syracuse, and managed to get through a thunderstorm up near the border into Ontario. We were so fucking nervous at the US Customs, even though we really had no reason to be. The border patrolman asked about where we were staying in Montreal and if we had any tobacco, but we made it into Canada unscathed. Suckers! It took another two hours to drive through Ontario and into Quebec, and eventually the city of Montreal. It reminded me a lot of that drive through Jersey, right before you get to New York City, except that everything was in French. We drove toward a big rainbow just as Montreal came into view. The neighborhoods in the outskirts reminded me of what suburban London looks like on British TV shows and movies, and that made me somehow unsettled. Mount Royal came into view, and as we followed Mapquest's directions, we ended up driving right past the city and out of the actual island of Montreal. It was kind of stressful trying to make our way back to the downtown area, and I began to doubt that my nerves could ever handle "The Amazing Race". Oh well! Soon, we were on the Avenue du Renee-Levesque heading toward Rue Bleury--where our hotel was waiting. I think the first week of August is Gay Pride in Montreal, because everything seemed pretty pink. We even saw a group of men in ass-less leather chaps getting into a cab outside the Holiday Inn. Becky pulled up to La Tour Centre-Ville, and I ran inside to check-in. For some reason, I asked the guy with a ponytail at the front desk if he spoke English and he was like, "Yes--I have to." I knew they spoke French in Quebec, but I didn't realize how sparsely they used English. Our room had a nice view of Old Montreal and everything else we could ever want, including "Degrassi" in French. After some rest, we headed out to explore the neighborhood and find something to do. We saw the nearby Monasterie du Notre-Dame and got something to eat on a street that seemed relatively busy. We ate tortellini, and it was so good to have carbs, while drinking a pitcher of sweet sangria. We didn't have any Canadian money, and not many places to exchange currency were opened, but we were luckily able to use a credit card to pay for our meal. We realized what ignorant Americans we were, as if we doubted Canada's credibility as a nation, not realizing it could have its own money and language. We then asked ourselves, "But who is in charge of Canada?" Still don't know. Upon leaving the restaurant, it began to really pour. We didn't really expect rain on our parade, and so never thought to pack an umbrella for the trip. We marched on anyway, to spite the weather, but it seemed like all of Montreal had gone into hiding. We ended up back at our hotel, intending to get some alcohol, but we both passed out instead. I fell asleep with a towel watching "Futurama" in French. I woke up early and walked around, unsure if I should wake up Becky. The day was much brighter, and we walked over to a cafe for something to eat. Bread always tastes so much better in different countries. We continued to embarass ourselves as we had to express to the waitress that our understanding of French didn't extend very far past "May I sharpen my pencil?" We followed our Lonely Planet guidebook up Rue du Saint-Laurent, to the trendy Plateu neighborhood. There was an American Apparel and bougie bars. We exchanged our currency, which Becky used to buy some tampons at a French-speaking version of Rite Aid. We used the bathroom at a public pool, and when we walked out Becky goes, "Dude I just saw so much pussy." We stopped at a record shop and admired all the public artwork that comprise this charming city. I have to say that everyone is Montreal is really adorable and attractive. And people talk to each other with such respect. We walked around the residential neighborhoods, admiring all the spiral staircases and curbside boxes filled to the brim with empty wine bottles. Then we headed down to the Metro station and toward Old Montreal. Heading toward the water, we found a place to rent bikes and were able to ride them along the Old Port and Canal Lachine. It was really beautiful and sunny, and I was just very elated by the whole thing. We rode by the OutGames, the gay Olympics that were being held in some park, and the tickets to get in were kind of expensive. I don't really know what kind of sports they were doing. We returned our bikes after our asses really started to hurt and explored some more, stopping for bubble tea and tempura in Quartier Chinois. We couldn't find the Underground City of shopping that we read about in our book. I took a dip in the hotel pool, which was right nearby, although there was an annoying family splashing around in it and then a lesbian couple. We headed back out as the sun dropped in the sky, behind Mount Royal and the cross at its peak lit up for us to see. It made me think of the Sugarloaf in Rio de Janeiro, though I have never been there. We got dinner at an Indian restaurant, and were the only people there. It was a really beautiful place, so I don't understand why the food was not so stellar. Across the street, a concert was set up inside a little park and with a band that had like six guitars. People watched and danced, but I have no idea who they were and maybe they were famous, but I will probably never know. They sounded pretty good. We then walked up the street to a little bar and got a big pitcher of beer as some bands began to play. We sat by the window and watched people go by and stop in to check things out. I basically drank the entire pitcher, not knowing I had become such a beer lush. The whole scene was what I expected of a Montreal venue. We stumbled out toward Le Village for more tastes of Montreal nightlife, but got kind of lost and ended up just getting into a cab. Again we passed out from pure exhaustion. The sunrise was so beautiful, and I was really happy to be in Montreal. I nearly went for a run, but went in the pool instead, then woke up Becky. We packed our shit up, then went to Eggspectations for the greatest breakfast of my life. We checked out of the hotel and said our goodbyes to the area, then headed up toward McGill University and Mount Royal. As we drove up the mountain, which took me forever to realize it was the city's namesake, we passed a cemetery and reached the Look-out area. We got a beautiful view of the entire city, the Olympic Stadium right in front of us with its huge leaning tower. I directed us back down the mountain and toward the tip of the island of Montreal, where we made our way toward La Parc Nature du Cap-St-Jacques. There was a beach there, so we parked the car and headed down. It kind of felt like summer camp, but we were excited to be there on the white sand and in the warm water. I think we were on the Saint Lawrence, but I should find out for sure. The one thing I missed out on in the city was getting to eat some poutine, which I am used to from Pomme Frite on St. Mark's back in New York--but I wanted to taste the real deal. It was a thing of beauty to walk down the beach and see a sign that said "Poutine!" with a big arrow. I told the guy at the little lodge that I needed poutine, but he explained that there were no potatoes because the power had been out for a few days. What a let-down. I guess I'll just have to go back to the Manhattan knock-off version. We left the beach with sand on our skin and headed back to the States. Again we got nervous crossing the US Border, and I told Becky to act really American and whip up an apple pie while singing Yankee Doodle. We made our way past the Thousand Islands region and south through New York, which I drove most of the way. When it had gotten dark and we were past Binghamton, fireworks we being shot off in the mountains as we drove right under them. I tried my best to take good pictures of it. We drove up Columbia Street after ten o'clock, and I ate some food at my house before going to a party at Victor's place at The Mill. I was so tired. We drank some martinis and I danced in the fountain with Ashton before leaving with Alex and Nelson. I was so useless the next day, and I kind of wish we had stayed in Canada another day like my mother suggested. I got up Sunday morning and went to church alone so that I could still go running before I had to work. I tried to stop by Alex's art show on the way to The Radisson, but I could not find it in time. I always drag my feet walking into work, but it wasn't such a bad night. We had to work a "My Super Sweet 16"-level graduation party for some brat from Prep. Only about half of her party even showed up, so we had to take apart most of what we had been setting up all day. I think my boss overheard me imitating her voice and catchphrases, which caused me some stress. The next day, Grace and I went to Pizza Hut with my Dad. We talked about Monty Python and how he used to make bombs as a summer job. Things are going well with my Dad, after we went to couples therapy. My Mom suggested we go to The Crossings to shop the outlet malls of the Poconos. She was nervous to drive, but she got us there safely. Grace bought a lot of shit for high school, and I got a few things too. I usually hate shopping, but it was fun to be there and buy new things. I really went because my Mom mentioned going to Tandoor Palace for dinner, where we soon feasted on delicious masalas before I drove us back to Scranton as we blasted The Essential Cyndi Lauper CD. Last night I saw "Talladega Nights" with my aunt Mem, then we sat on the deck at Coopers drinking mudslides and eating seafood with my family. The summer is dwindling down, and I have to go back to New York soon. I also need to find an apartment for me and my Brazilian bride and that certainly scares the shit out of me.

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July! July, July. It was kind of weird. There were moments when I'd think to myself, "Hey it's July 11th and one year ago I was spending this moment in Madrid." But this year, I waited around to be called in to work, and felt like a loser when I never really was. My boss, Mary, said July is a slow month, but that she'd rather "be getting killed than be dead". By that, she means she wishes we had too much business rather than no business at all. So instead of just getting another job, I started seeing Dr. Hassett again--ten years later. Ten years is a long time, and she is older now but still very sweet. I ended up sobbing through the entire first session, for a lot of reasons. It was awful and good. I had a long talk with my mother afterward before hopping into Becky's car for our trip to Penn State. It rained really hard on the drive down, but it stopped by the time we got there. Becky's apartment was really cute, just as I had imagined it to be. Her boyfriend Adam met up with us at Qdoba as we ate burritos. Then we got ice cream at The Creamery and walked through the library among all the kids who were there for sports camps. We ate pitas, rented some "Six Feet Under" and drank some Woodchucks until I passed out on the futon during a celebrity poker game on TV (they're so boring!). I woke up to a beautiful day and went for a very pleasant run around the campus. Golden Bowl, the restaurant I had virtually gone down there for was closed for renovations. We got coffee at Saints Cafe and hung out at Adam's apartment, a little further away. Then we drove home. Joe Cutler's birthday rolled around, and I was nervous about spending all that time with his family at the party. Alex and I went to Nelson's first to get drunk, since we couldn't do it there. At the party, I ate some hummus and didn't meet Joe's father. Alex's roommate Megan was visiting, and we went back to Alex's after the party to swim a little and tell ghost stories. Susannah had another party for Joe the next night at her house, and someone stole her iPod. They made vegan cupcakes for him, which were tasty as hell. I gave him a bag of lollipops, some ice cream treats, and made him a CD of 19 songs (to match his 19 years of age). It was nice to see Leigh and get drunk with her before she left for London. I forget what happened in the following days, but I remember going to a book release for this kid I thought was hot and drinking boxed wine at Liz's new house while looking at her mother's old yearbooks. I get so dumb when I drink boxed wine. Joe and I took my sister to the midnight premiere of "Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest" at Cinemark. There were so many people dressed in costume, so it was like Halloween. Joe bought a pickle and fell asleep during the movie. I enjoyed the hell out of it. Later in the week, I found out that our friend Lani had died in Philadelphia. We had gone to school together forever and hung out a lot as the Art Club in high school. She was such a talented artist. After I found out, I looked for the little clay cave man she had made for me a few years ago, and put it above our kitchen sink where it used to be. Both of his arms had broken off. I wish I could have been a better friend to her. I've never dealt with this before, and it's awful to think about how my friends always wonder whose wedding we would go to first, not even thinking about a funeral. I had such a knot in my stomach about going, but I went with Emily and Kelly, hoping we would see a lot of our classmates. We saw a few, but not as I expected. Her mother just held onto me and told me how much Lani loved being friends with me. We sat in disbelief during the service, listening to Lani's sister read a poem she had written. Em and I cried quietly as she read out, "You are the beauty you created." Lani's mother asked us to follow in the procession to the cemetery, where there was another service and we put roses next to her urn. We would have gone to the memorial breakfast, but I had to go to Philadelphia with my family for my cousins' graduation party. I dropped off the girls after a quick stop at Dunkin Donuts, then we all headed down to the party--an odd transition indeed. After we drove back home, I went to a party at Joe's friend's house, then we walked over to a house where there was a movie being filmed. We were too tired to be extras in the "party scene" so we left and I went home. Then kind of broke up with Joe. Alex came back from Pittsburgh the next night and we went up to my lake house to have a fire with Liz, Denzel, Emily, Susannah, and Jim. We told some scary stories and laughed a lot, which was sorely needed I think. Good. Grace and I went to see "The Devil Wears Prada". I hate Anne Hathaway. Meryl Streep was great, but I thought she was Glenn Close. Then when I found out I had another week off, I decided that I needed to run away for a while and take an amazing trip. I was booking hostels and buying bus tickets to Montreal when Becky convinced me to wait until she got back in town to go, since I said I would go with her. I was feeling a bit self-conscious about going alone anyway. So instead, I took Liz with me to get the tattoo I had been wanting since seeing Chloe's Isaac Mizrahi bedsheets last year. At Slingin' Ink, Frank put two grains of wheat onto my ribs and it kind of hurt. Much more than my other ones. I was stretched out on my side while two apprentices looked on, and I felt like a baby calf getting hogtied. It was awkward. I never get nervous about getting a tattoo, but I get nervous just being around the tattoo guys. I feel like I should act really flamboyant just so they know I'm not some douchebag who is taking his girlfriend to watch him get a tattoo. I don't know. Everyone likes the wheat tattoo, but I worked myself up about it when I was trying to fall asleep that night. I kept thinking about how else I wanted it, in a folk art style of sorts, and kept looking down at it with the light from my cell phone. I've grown to accept and love it as a part of me now. It's healing now, and getting itchy. On Wednesday, I took Grace and Angela to a buffalo farm in Hamlin (something Dr. Hassett had been telling me about after explaining how I feel I've wasted the summer). It was easy to find, but they are only opened on Fridays and Saturdays. We got to see the fields where the buffalos play and roam, but didn't see the actual beasts. We drove down by Claws 'n' Paws, which always seemed so far away when our dad took us there years and years ago. The world felt so much bigger when I was a kid. I made Grace a CD for the trip, and it made things perfect as we drove home, stopping for ice cream and french fries in Mt. Cobb, then at a blueberry farm that had baby goats and teepees (!). Grace and I went to a pilates class at this yoga studio that has been within walking distance for five years and we had no idea. We were practically the only people in the class, so it was like a private lesson. I loved it. I got some tea with Alex and Liz later on, then went home to watch "Project Runway" and eat a whole container of tahini. What a good show-- I have such a crush on Allison and want the guy who looks a little like Kanye West to win. I went to New York the next day with my Mom and Grace, because I think they needed a little vacation. We stayed in a nice hotel and saw shows and ate a lot. I met Omer in Union Square, then saw the apartment he's got for the summer. He looked like a little bike messenger. I went with the girls to see "Strangers With Candy" at the Landmark Sunshine on E. Houston. We ate some knishes before the show and were the only ones in the theater. I was really pleased with it, but didn't like how many jokes were recycled or how Jerri didn't look ugly enough. It seemed watered down for a general audience but I still loved it. I missed Orlando, and didn't appreciate the "Megawatti" character that was supposed to make up for him. Stephen Colbert was fantastic, just really on. Someone left me a scary voicemail during the movie, pretending to be a burly man named Kitty, which I found very bone-chilling. Or maybe I actually do know someone named Kitty, but I don't think I do. We walked down Bowery to Chinatown and got caught in a thunderstorm with some homeless people. I told them it was an authentic moment. We were soaked and cold as we sat down to dinner at Il Cortile in Little Italy. We got some desserts and cappuccinos afterward because the rain wouldn't stop. My stomach really hurt, and I convinced them to hop on a bus to Scranton--which we just barely made. It was a torturous ride home. I really had to pee. My father was having a party for his interns at the house, so there were lots of fraternity guys playing beer pong by our pool and eating hot dogs my brother was cooking for them. I wanted to see Adam Goldman, who was visiting Emily, but she never called me and now I hate her. I had to work the next day, and my stomach was still acting up. Mary broke her arm, so she's got a cast on and it adds so much to her character. It was kind of a shitty wedding, but I got some nice tips. People are so wasteful when they're getting married. I was there very late and my boss told me that I looked like hell. I felt okay, though. Last night, I watched "The Dying Gaul" with Patricia Clarkson and Peter Sarsgaard. I loved most of it, but it took me a while to love how it ended. What a busy summer I haven't had. On Friday, I finally heard from Linda at Farrar, Straus & Giroux and she said they'd love to have me join them in the Fall for the internship program. It was such wonderful news. I'm really excited to have something like that to focus on. New York better be ready.

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