Now the hard part. I had to actually furnish the apartment.
I thought this was the perfect time to change my style. To create an entirely new theater where my new life could play out. That would capture the essence of my reawakened soul.
I thought: what about something that really reflects the wild vibrancy of my creative mind. Something cool. Modern--and, boy wouldn't it be great to have a bathroom door in the shape of a giant sphere. I would live out a new theme in my life: Modern Man Living in Apt 6E.
I kind of liked the visual in my head, but then it occurred to me. The giant bathroom door sphere wouldn't fit in the elevator and moving it in the middle of the night when I have to pee would be a pain. So then I thought, you know, with my head filled with thoughts like a freight train that never seems to end, why not something minimal, calming. Zen. Yeah, zen. Peaceful. A place I can go to find peace and serenity. To reach a state of non being-but with a 46" flat screen and DVR.
Ah, who am I kidding. Inner peace would drive me up the wall. Wait! What about an interior design that would reflect my softer side. A Laura Ashley vibe?
Hmm, not sure if my gap jeans, my gap shirt with the sleeves too long, my blue Sweat shirt that screams NEW YORK and the kind of fast, neurotic gum chewing style I have would match the pattern and look.
Eventually I finally decided I would order my couch, a white dining room table, rug, and bed from CB2.
It would all be delivered on the same day. No anxiety. Simple.
By 1 PM--boom, I was moved in. My crib has been created. I soon discovered one sticking point to this particular interior decorating idea... every time I walked into CB2 the show room floor looked exactly like my apartment. All I had to do was stand in the middle of my apartment and say "One minute I will be right with you" and it would me CB2. But the anxiety of picking myself up from where I lived for 20 years and dropping myself in a new space was pretty fucken heavy. Note the use of "fucken" to give added weight to the weight I was feeling. And this was an easy solution.
The first night alone in the city, single, living apart from my family, was really hard. Man, it was lonely.
And being in the middle of hundreds of people who appeared to be living happy lives, can be even lonelier. The only human interaction I had that night, was with a homeless guy who said I looked like Grizzly a guy he use to hang with and drink pints of Thunderbird in front of the kitchen supply store on Bowery.
Homeless Guy: Nah, you ain't Grizzly. Sorry, man, if you were I would have said you owe me a pint cause that last sip wuz suppose to go to me."
You may have noticed there is a running theme through this, or an emerging theme. That is, there are moments where I see my life as scenes of all the movies and all the art that affected me.
But there was one saving grace that night. As I walked down 14th Street, I heard a young girl about 16 screaming wildly into her phone at someone. Full tilt violent angry screaming.
Girl: "You better listen to me, Bitch! You listening to me, Bitch! Bitch, you don't talk to me like that. I'll come down there and slap your ass around! You hear me, Bitch! Bitch, don't you hang up. You better not hang up, Bitch."
She was screaming like a wild girl from Union Square straight down to 1st Avenue where I lived.
As I followed her, recording dialogue any writer would dream to write, she screamed for the entire world to hear:
Girl: Suck my dick! You hear me, bitch, suck my...
Right then she paused. Thought for a second about what she was saying. And quickly corrected herself.
Girl: Suck my son's dick, Bitch! Bitch, you hearin' me? Suck my son's dick!
A thread of sunshine broke through the dark clouds.
I was home. I'm back home where I belong.
