The next day we were supposed to go to the Elemental Wizard concert, hiphopatcong's favorite artist. We hung around, drooled down at attractive women walking below, and tried to figure out the game plan. hiphopatcong and noelr were up in Beacon, and wanted us to come up there before going down to the city for the concert. We found this stupid, and suggested they meet up with us in Hoboken or the Bronx. They refused, and wanted to have some fun experimenting. Whatever, diff'rent strokes to rule the world. So I was going to let them have their fun, hook up with my roomie or hang out with towelboy in the city or see the concert anyway or whatever. Called my roomie back, who had been asking what my plans were, and started making plans. Found out runstaverun, kikibird, and periol wanted to hang out with me that night at my place... but the concert was planned first. But that was looking uncertain, so I chatted with them. towelboy and I tried to think through the bullshit of people asking us to go all the way up to bumblefuck middle of nowhere just to go back down to the city that never sleeps, particularly when one of us lives next to said city and the other's already driven across the state. We pondered, scoffed, debated, much drama ensued. My roomie went on about how druggies think of drugs first, how everything else comes second, and we acted really holier than thou. They tried to convince us to drive all the way up there, I wasn't up for that, and was about ready to go my own way. Finally, despite promises of fancy delivery places and proximity to the city, towelboy agreed to go up there. They promised that if we went up there, they would go down to the concert. Mind you, this was the concert that I had already been talked into seeing, the concert event where hiphopatcong could see his favorite rising rapper. *shrug*
So we drove up there. I offered to drive, as towelboy had already driven all over creation. He insisted, as he had talked me into going with him as we dragged them back. The ride up was fun, conversation was good, music was flowing. Along the way, we visited aaronkliger's mother. Hadn't seen her in ages, and I wish we could have spent more time hanging out with her. She was doing well, and was attending a dinner that Moby was going to be at a day or two later. Good times. We got to noelr's pad, my second time there, and had this whole plan to attack them. I'd take noelr, while he attacked hiphopatcong. Guilt us into driving up, eh? So we charged in, and the PS2 fell to the floor. And with that, it lost its ability to play PS2 games. Not quite the entry we planned.
So we chilled. Enjoyed some media, chatted with friends, good times. The clock ticked on, I said nothing, I was afraid that all I kept on yelling and screaming like a dramaqueen would happen... would happen. Finally towelboy spoke up, reminding people of the promise made. I thanked him and got up. noelr said ok. hiphopatcong said that he wasn't going to go, which meant that noelr couldn't go. Needless to say, this was the last fucking straw for me, and I went out into the night to avoid fucking taking each of my fucking friends and fucking twisting their fucking little meatbag bodies, wrenching their fragile necks asunder, spilling their blood and quenching their life. I stepped into the cool night air, and regretted getting talked into the bullshit hours of driving for a broken promise. I stepped into the cool night air, and regretted blowing off periol, kikibird, and runstaverun. Immediately, I called them, and apologized. They expressed anger and disbelief at the way the events were playing out, and wished that they could retrieve me. Unfortunately, I didn't drive, and if I had I wouldn't leave towelboy. They consoled me, calmed me, and comforted me. My rage subsided, leaving only my bitter disgust and anger. One of periol's friends was spinning later in the evening, I wanted to at least make that. I sat outside, meditated, and tried to restrain the urge to move from room to room in the house, slitting the throat of every talking hairless foolish monkey in the residence. They sat inside, chatting and laughing, as I calmed myself. Nirvana was reached, the beast was restrained, and I rejoined my compatriots. After a while, towelboy and I left.
We flew back down to the city, sailing through the downpour, Passion playing in the car. Bitterness and anger were washed away like the first track off Killing Joke's breakthrough album. We were driving to the club, as it was too late to park in Hoboken and take the PATH, when towelboy mistakenly made a turn the wrong way down the Avenue of the Americas. Shit. But he pulled over in front of a truck that was freaking out and flashing its high beams, and managed to turn around behind the mass of taxis. Freaked the fuck out, we parked immediately afterwards. As I put it, how many people can say they drove the wrong way down the Avenue of the Americas and lived without getting a ticket? So we walked a few blocks to the club, and ran into periol, runstaverun, and kikibird in front of the place. We stopped to get some hot dogs and meat on a stick, the latter two told me that Kid Kameleon was there looking for me, and then they left. So periol and the two of us went in. Great beats. periol really tore up the dance floor. His friend spun a great set. His friend Amy the birthday girl was awesome. I kept on feeling like towelboy wasn't having a good time, but he swore he was and that he was just soaking it in and out of it. The place shut down, and we gave periol a ride back to his car in Jersey City. We park in my usual place right over the border in said town, and splash all the way back. Rain pouring down, giant puddles too far to jump across, we were like two soaked rats when we got back to my place. I offered to pay for the parking garage, and kept on thinking that we should park in the garage instead of walking through the rain, but we were macho macho men and insisted we could make it through. I passed out some time after Wang Chi asks the man in the abandoned building what was going on, before Jack Burton took off his jacket.
Sound night of sleep, exhausted the next day, and we lie around. I'm supposed to go to a pig roast with kikibird and runstaverun, and we keep on putting off our plans. Finally, we get up and leave for our cars. I was going to drive up through Hoboken to Clifton, so I gave him directions back to Vineland... as he notices his car's been broken into.
Smashed passenger side window. Sixty something CDs stolen. Bag of clothing and accessories stolen. noelr's DVDs stolen. His father's cell phone stolen. His lesson plans, grades, teaching manuals, everything for school stolen. Everything fucking stolen, except the fucking Hedwig soundtrack.
Cell phone call to police, make that three calls before someone shows up. In that time, over half a dozen Hoboken police drive by. What a difference a block makes. I blame myself, feel like shit, and wish that I could take the evening back and insist that we park in the lot. I feel horrible and self-conscious that my car is not broken into. His car, emptied with the glove compartment box hanging by a thread. The car on the OTHER SIDE of my car smashed and looted as well. The red Chevy in the middle untouched, the humble chariot of kingfox, what the fuck? As caniswolfie hypothesized, it looked like I was living out of my car and thus didn't have anything worth looting. So he calls home, and fights with his parents. He calls the powers that be at his school, and explains things. He calls everyone, and curses the world. I reach out, attempting to comfort, attempting to make things better, failing. He goes through some combination of Job and Lear, screaming at a higher power, friends, Northern Jersey, life, a passing pedestrian, everything. He rants, he cries, I blame myself and feel horrible for the intense loss and injustice my friend has suffered. I fetch him pizza, smokes, and drinks. We sit in my car, the police finally arrive. The cop's a great guy, and explains how horrible crime in Jersey City is. Great. He goes on about the ``boys from Newark'' running worse than they have in years, and relates the story of getting a window smashed for pocket change. The report is written up, a note is left for the other car, and we start cleaning out the car. My roomie had been calling through the day, as his father was sick and he couldn't get a ride back home. After we rigged up something to protect towelboy from the elements, we leave each other and head to two different Southern destinations. It was Commander Riker's last mass in Rahway, saw the Magyars, and drove home.
As I said, a weekend of ups and downs. Great moments of fun and togetherness, horrible losses and devastation.
At some point that next week, I saw Sketch Fights with kikibird, periol, and his crew. runstaverun had a family tragedy, and couldn't make it. The show was amazing. The finest act of the night was, in our opinions, Cowboy and John. As they currently say on their website:
This month has been decent. Hot on the heels of writing for the Man Show, winning the ECNY award for Best comedic Duo and snaring bossome roles in cool independent films (John for Todd Solondz and Curtis for some other dude), we were asked to perform in the first annual Sketch Fights competition. We totally had the competition in the bag, but then we performed our notorious "Darth Vadar Dildo Scene" (see photo above). We found out the hard way that America just ain't ready for that yet. The Cowboy and John truly are future comedy. Like something out of the pages of Naked Lunch, we shocked the judges (two middle aged female clowns and some random drunk guy) and lost the fight. But we think we won the war.
Yes, they did an insane ass rape scene. Our row was in stitches, and cheered so hard for them doing the judging. Unfortunately, they didn't get a single point, and lost the competition.
Saturday was redvector's party in Brooklyn... the far reaches of Brooklyn. windexcowboy met up with my roomie and I in the city, and we took the subway out to a couple of stops before Coney Island. A loooooong journey, indeed. We showed up with some Gin, and had a good time. Lots of cool people, and my roomie got to expand his Friendster list quite a bit. Some girl loudly yelled that life was all about Friendster and LJ. Fuck yeah. At one point redvector and I decided to fight, and he proved his skills as a striker. He fought to the music, which freaked me out. My roomie managed to find the big Magic player there, and spent a good amount of time talking with the guy. I was really depressed when I realized that when I got out of Magic seven years ago... I was his age. Damn! windexcowboy and I snuck out for Red Bull, pizza, and Coke at one point. Good times, drank plenty. My roomie and I took the subway back, which was probably a poor idea... as we didn't get to Hoboken until after six in the morning. Sleepy KF post, and I try to get some sleep before work that day.
runstaverun, periol, and I went to the final Sketch Fights round... which was hilarious. The winning group made jokes about philosophy and basic French, respected our intellect, and was great. It was great to be in Caroline's, the famous gig. We ran around NYC looking for a place to catch the rest of the last Sox game, when I remembered the bar under MSG. So we darted there, and caught the last couple of innings.
Then we come to this past weekend... which I'll post about later. Too tired, roomie came home from the studio, and wants to talk.