Friday, June 26, 2008

8:27 p.m.

Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, New York

I stayed in tonight. Because I am tired. And that’s ok.

I am tired because:

Last night, I was out until … ummm…this morning.—I left Mr. Brooklyn’s apartment at 7 a.m.

But I was tired even before that happened.

What a week!—and by week I mean since Tuesday.

TUESDAY: It was a short day at work, but a longer day at the office. The MSLO corporate all-hands started at 2 o’clock.

Martha stood tall at the podium, next to a pedestal supporting her two two french bulldogs as they snored loudly atop a plush pillow. She spoke to us like people, casual and candid. She was funny! “Sorry,” she said, laughing at the absurdity of the joke she just cracked, “I just came from a meeting with Snoop. And, you know…” Her presence was magnificent and inspiring. I swear, the whole room was radiating with her creative energy.

After that, everyone was ready to party.—Of all nights for there to be a Martha Stewart cocktail party on the infamous roof-deck of the Starrett–Lehigh Building, it had to be on the same night as my first class.—Have I mentioned? I’m taking a Creative Writing class!—I emailed the instructor yesterday to let her know I would be late. I can’t not go to a summer roof-deck party. Especially one hosted by Martha Stewart!

The air up there was cool and breezy. A dramatic contrast from the sticky, stale air down on the street. After about fifteen minutes of small talk, I drifted away from polite conversation and floated over to the southwest corner of the roof deck.

I felt like the City was my date. She looked so beautiful that evening, and I only had eyes for her. I cheersed to us and took a sip of my signature cocktail. I watched the sunset over the Hudson River, so close I could almost taste it.

But like I said, it was a busy day. And after only one drink, I said Goodbye!, and See you tomorrow!. Then I walked five avenues east, to 23rd and 6th, and took the downtown train to Broadway and Lafayette.

I arrived just in time for the last hour of my first class at Gotham Writing Center.—More about the class later. For now, I’ll just say, f*cking loved it.

WEDNESDAY: Another busy day! In the morning, I took the Subway up to the Bronx, where I volunteered with some of my MSLO colleagues. After three and a half hours of sorting potatoes with City Harvest Mobile Markets, I was dismissed at 12:30. Free for the rest of the day!

I rode the Subway down to 96th Street, the top of Central Park. Then I rambled through the Ramble for about an hour, reminiscing about my first summer in the City and living on the Upper West Side. I made it to the 79th Street Subway just before it started to pour. By two o’clock, I was home, ready for a nap.

That night, I went on my second date with Mr. Brooklyn.—Wait. Do you know about our first date? He met me at my apartment, and then we walked to CHAR. The new cocktail lounge/BBQ joint a few blocks down. We drank fancy old fashions and ate saucy ribs. Then we went to Duane Reade to buy candy before the movie. We saw The Hangover. That movie is wild!

So, for our second date, we took the Subway into the City. First to Caracas Arepas Bar, a very-tiny Venezuelan place in the East Village. (Holy smokes, that was delicious! Arepas may just be my new favorite food.) Then we crossed Houston to catch the eleven o’clock show at Mercury Lounge.

We shared a cab back to Brooklyn.—We’re gonna be two stops, please.

THURSDAY: After two busy days, it was kinda nice to sit still at my desk for the day. Especially because it was another eventful evening. After work, I walked as far West as you can go, crossing the West Side Highway, to Hudson Pier 66.—I’d never been to The Frying Pan before.

I felt fabulous as I boarded the barge and headed toward the bow. Jordan (the birthday girl!) was already there. Between going to the same college and living in the same apartment, I knew most of the people at her party. But at the Frying Pan, the more is the merrier, so I texted Mr. Brooklyn and invited him to join.

The night was so much fun. I forgot to worry about work the next day. I went home with Mr. Brooklyn.

FRIDAY: I woke up in Mr. Brooklyn’s bed.—I can’t believe we made out all night like that!—I walked home, amongst the Brownstones and made it back to my apartment with just enough time to shower, freak out over the intense hickies on my neck, and thank my past self for buying that short-sleeved, white turtleneck last year at the Theory sample sale.—You know, that shirt I’ve never worn because it doesn’t fit quite right.

Barely before nine, I came above ground at Bryant Park, craving one of those big low-fat blueberry muffins from Crumb. My go-to, tired-at-work breakfast. Sugar, please!

Post-muffin, the day was long. I was tired, hungover, and distracted. When I left the office at five, I took out my iPod and started walking. Just for a couple of blocks, to shake off the stillness of my day.

Forty-five minutes later, I was still on foot, walking across the Brooklyn Bridge. Chased by the rain, I made it home just as the sky opened up.

So yeah, I am tired tonight. Which is why I’m staying in. And that’s ok.