Quel weekend! I was still coming off the new job elation & the universe was conspiring, in its way, to make things work the way they should. After a perfect, drunken Saturday nite that started in the East Village & wrapped itself up at Kings County, I spent Sunday shopping with Belkys: the junk store from Driggs has moved out to Bushwick, & it's better than ever. I almost hesitate to blog about it because I don't want anyone else to know about it. But Belkys already told a million people so it's too late now. We spent at least an hour wandering around the store, looking at all the great furniture, before we even noticed the CLOTHES. So that was at least another hour spent trying on as many pieces as we could before we could hardly breathe from the dust. I found a black sweater with leather trim & a zipper running up from the bottom hem, a floral fifties suit, with fitted jacket & pencil skirt, & a backless gray sweater that was covered in 80s sequins. I spent the better part of yesterday in front of the television (
Days of Our Lives &
Passions) with a pair of scissors, removing the sequins one by one. Sunday evening I met my friend
Anna at a rock & roll brunch party at the East River bar in Williamsburg. We had Bloody Marias & saw a couple of bands & we walked down Broadway to Moto where I had what must be the perfect light dinner, a steamed artichoke with garlic mayo & a Nutella panini for dessert. We wandered south of B'way to the Hasidic neighborhood, smoked a bowl as surreptitiously as we could & took the JMZ into the city to see Sahara Hotnights @ the Bowery Ballroom. Stepping off the train onto the street, a little bit stoned, getting ourselves more or less together, we were verbally accosted by a passing group of neighborhood boys. It was no big deal; annoying & typical, definitely, but nothing out of the ordinary. Then suddenly from behind we felt a hard cold shock of water splash against us. They fucking threw water at us! We were quite shocked & hoping it was only water; Anna had the presence of mind to yell something after them but mainly we were pretty surprised & didn't really do anything. We had to stop at a bodega for batteries for Anna's camera & the backs of our tee shirts were soaking & my ass was a bit damp too. "I'm so
sick of this
shit," I told Anna vehemently, "& I'm not going to take it anymore!" Even tho, actually, no one had ever thrown water at me on the street before. It was a brand new tactic in street harassment, & may I add, an unwelcome one.
By the time we got to the show tho, our clothes were drying & our anger was fading.
We were blown away by the rock that is Sahara Hotnights. My Scandophilia was rekindled to the nth degree. It was 100% pure rock & roll. The only thing that was weird was I kept noticing this really fat girl with black hair & poofy red bangs who was dancing very close to me. She knew the words to every song & she sang along the entire time & jumped up & down & something about her fatness & the ugly red bangs & the way she knew all the words made me feel sad. But then I would just look back up at the band or over at Anna & all would be well again. On the way home Marcello said, "That's what it was like to see the Clash."
