So the Brooklyn streets are finally lined with cherry blossoms and it's so beautiful. I got to walk around in a sundress today, with no tights or socks and it was wonderful. I took the train down to Sunset Park, skipped down 58th Street to the long pier that I never took the time to wander to. I started walking down it, watching Chasids and their little kids toss stale matzoh into the East River at the gulls down in the water while the prouder gulls sat individually atop each wooden pillar. One on each, stoic and still. The pier is so long, and in being so, somehow skewed my depth perception to the point that I thought a ten minute walk would only take me two minutes, but by the time I finally made it, walking as fast as I could, breathing in air that is different because I am on top of water, I see Rudi, Scott, and their friend Taylor sitting on the edge, on a bench, sipping scotch and beers, laughing, listening to soul music on a handheld cassette player. We sat there for awhile, whispering, sharing my meatloaf sandwich, talking about jumping off the pier onto the ferries and water taxis that went by. On the way back to the Jerk Haus, I ate an ice cream cone, then we got stoned on the stoop. I couldn't stop smiling, I'd been waiting for a day like this for months.
The sun started setting, and then I remembered how beautiful Brooklyn can be. My relationship with this city is so fucked up and loaded, but on days like today I can forgive it, and just be thankful there are these streets to walk around upon.
Max and I went to go see The Lamps and Pissed Jeans at the Market Hotel. It was so loud and heavy and funny and weird and cool and by the end of the Lamps' set, the guitar player's blood was spread all over his guitar, splattered all over his cables and pedals. It was one of the best, most wild shows I've seen in awhile. My whole self is ringing.
Tomorrow is my Dad's 60th birthday party. I drew him a mandala because I want him to be peaceful. I love him so much.
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