#i feel like it’s a 30+ year old New Yorker and I am a tourist taking up sidewalk space

[enderspawn]

i have literally never seen a tarot deck filled with more vitriol, anger, or hate than my apples to apples cards. it called everyone in the room fat and dirty and ugly at every chance. it repeatedly threatened me with the card ‘sharp’. i asked about its general attitude and it said sour. sour apples.

incredible 10/10 would be called a slur by it again.

[argylemnwrites]

Choice

Pairing: None really, this is a mother/daughter fic, but Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu) is referenced

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe, set about 30 years after Why Are We Still Waiting?)

Word Count: ~3000

Rating: R (language, referenced childhood trauma)

Summary: Sometimes, you just want your mom, no matter how old you are.

Author’s Note: Well, I am very rusty!!! Writing has been very slow going as I work to get back into things, and please forgive the inevitable clunkiness here, but in light of certain national news, I felt compelled to actually write this story that had been in my head for a long time. Never really thought it would see the light of day, but I feel like it kind of works as a very non-traditional Mother’s Day story. This is very much a “not for everyone” kind of story, but it’s one that I felt like exploring at this moment.

Content warning for unplanned pregnancy, abortion, and referenced teen pregnancy. Seriously. That’s literally all it’s about. You have been warned.

It was rare when Jackie came to Riley first when she was hurt or upset. The last time she could remember cries for “Mommy” more consistently than “Daddy” was when she was a tiny toddler, waddling around a Brooklyn condo, pulling on the tail of a corgi who was simultaneously too old to have the patience for the energy of an 18 month old and too old to really care. But pretty much by the time that Jackie was stringing words together, Drake had become her preferred source of comfort. It had never bothered Riley. It wasn’t like she and Jackie had a strained relationship or anything. But Jackie and Drake had always just had a special bond. And over the years, as scraped knees and lost stuffed animals progressed to preteen clique drama and questions about her sexuality and then to failed physics tests and breakups, Drake had been the one to hear about things first, to hug her first, and to bake her a batch of butterscotch blondies.

But every now and then, Riley had been the one Jackie had turned to when she was in need. Her first period. Her first time on the receiving end of unwanted male attention on the subway. Her first trip to the OBGYN.  Riley knew there were things a daughter just naturally wanted to talk to her mother about instead of her father. Unsurprisingly, a pregnancy scare was also on that list.

It had been a scramble to change plans when Jackie had called Riley, her voice thin and small, saying she was a few weeks late. She’d rationalized a lot, saying that breaking up with Jason and moving out had been stressful, so of course she was late, but Riley could still hear the fear and anxiety behind her seemingly calm words. After all, she normally was pretty regular.

So, instead of Jackie flying down to the ranch for a week surrounded by the love of her family following her first adult break up, Riley had booked a red eye to New York. Hopefully, they’d be able to head down soon, but Riley knew that flying her daughter down to Texas when she might have an unwanted pregnancy was not an option. So, she hopped on the bus that would take her from LaGuardia to her daughter’s new studio apartment just as the sun was rising. She felt more like a tourist than she liked to admit - Queens had never been a borough she was all that familiar with, after all, but she still was enough of a New Yorker at heart to find a good option for bagels and coffee as she walked to the new address she had programmed into her phone.

When Jackie opened the door to her apartment, she immediately sank into Riley’s arms, crumbling down, no longer seeming to be taller than her. Riley hugged her back as best she could with a bag of bagels in one hand, a drink carrier with two coffees with cream in the other, holding her tightly, taking in the loose sweatpants and dirty sweatshirt her daughter had likely been wearing for at least a couple of days. 

“Mom,” said Jackie, her voice almost shaky.

“I’m here, sweetie. It’s going to be okay, no matter what.”

Jackie let out a little hiccup as she nodded, clutching Riley’s back tighter for just a moment before stepping back. “Welcome to my new apartment - the best that less than two weeks' notice could find.”

Riley smiled at her daughter’s deflection, taking in the boxes stacked around the room, the takeout packaging piled up on the counter, and the nest of blankets in the middle of the futon. 

“Sorry, I know it’s a fucking disaster.”

“I think, given the circumstances, that’s pretty damn understandable. You hungry?”

Jackie nodded, so the two of them made their way the short distance to the futon, sitting down cross-legged facing each other, Riley passing her a sesame bagel before pausing as she reached to hand her a coffee.

“Sorry, I should have asked if any smells were bad for you or -”

“No, I’ve just been mad hungry all the time. No nausea or anything. It’s probably why I didn’t even think I might be…” Jackie trailed off as she took her coffee from Riley, taking a sip with a shrug.

“Do you… do you want to talk about it right away, or do you want to eat breakfast first?” Riley asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She knew she needed to be a source of strength for her kid. It would only freak her out more to know that Riley was also worried.

Jackie bit into her bagel, chewing and swallowing before she answered, “I mean, I guess there’s no point in putting it off, huh?”

Riley gave a shrug of her own. “No, I guess there isn’t. Have you given any thought to what you want to do if you are pregnant?” Riley definitely had her opinion about what would be the best option, and she was pretty sure that Jackie was feeling the same way, but she didn’t want to sway her in any way. This had to be her choice at the end of the day.

Jackie nodded, running her hand through her long hair streaked with purple, the roots with a heavy coating of grease. “I don’t want a baby. I’m not ready to be a mom.”

Riley bit her lip, trying to figure out how to phrase her next question, since Jackie’s answer really only ruled out one option, even if she was pretty sure Jackie would have worded things differently if she was thinking about giving a baby up for adoption. Jackie must have realized where Riley’s mind went though, because after a moment, she added, “And I don’t think I could… I mean, I’m not sure…” She took a breath and a sip of coffee before she finished her thought. “I don’t want to feel like I’m going through this breakup for nine months, Mom. I know that probably makes me a coward or something, but-”

“That does not make you a coward, sweetie. No fucking way. Not even close. Any reason you have is valid to me.”

Jackie forced a smile before taking another bite of her bagel. “I don’t know. Not being able to pee on a strip of paper might make me a bit of a coward.”

Riley let out a chuckle at that. “I think lots of people are cowards in that case. Or maybe the old plastic tests used to just be a lot more intimidating.”

Jackie rolled her eyes. “Did you seriously just go all ‘back in my day’ about pregnancy tests?”

Riley chuckled again, shaking her head. “Living with Leona must be rubbing off on me.”

Jackie let out a snort of laughter before placing her coffee on the floor and wrapping her free arm around a leg, tucking her knee under her chin. “Okay though, serious question - were you ever scared… like this… to take one?”

Riley nodded without hesitating for a second. “Absolutely. Not the exact same circumstances, but yeah, I’ve been here a few times.”

“How many times?”

“Depends how you count things, but I would say three.”

Jackie tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean, ‘it depends on how you count things?’”

Riley let out a sigh. Discussing her sex life from decades ago with her daughter was not something she’d ever pictured doing, but she figured Jackie was looking to not feel so alone as she sat in a new apartment, reeling from a messy breakup, trying to mend a broken heart, and likely dealing with an unplanned and unwanted pregnancy. So, if some of her past might help show her daughter that this was a fairly universal female experience, that things can still work out okay, well then Riley could swallow down the awkwardness and share her stories.

“I’d taken Plan B after a condom broke, so that pregnancy test wasn’t quite as nerve-wracking. I didn’t have any reason to think that I would be pregnant, but I still wanted to just be sure.”

Jackie nodded against her leg. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-two.”

Riley watched as Jackie did some quick math in her head. “So, before Dad then?”

Riley cocked an eyebrow. “I hope I haven’t scandalized you too horribly with revealing that I didn’t wait until my wedding night to have a sex life.”

Jackie let out a genuine burst of laughter at that. “No, I was just trying to figure out if you… if you had support from the guy, I guess. Besides, nothing could scandalize me after seeing what you wore for Skype sex with Dad.”

“That’s what you get for not letting me know you were coming home for the weekend and showing up unannounced,” Riley said, feeling her cheeks flush. That moment had been highly embarrassing for all three of them. “But to answer your question, it was after a one-night stand, so while the guy came to Duane Reade with me to pick up the Plan B, I didn’t really feel like turning to him for support since I didn’t even know his last name.”

“What about the other times - was the guy there for you then?”

“One time yes, one time no,” Riley said with a shrug. “My foster moms were there for me though, and trust me, they were a better support than him.”

“So you were… pretty young, then?”

Riley nodded. “Seventeen. Not that I felt that young at the time, but looking back…”

Jackie nodded. “Can I… I mean, don’t feel like you have to answer. I’m just curious if-”

“It was positive,” Riley said, answering the question her daughter was obviously dancing around.

“Oh.” They both were silent for a few moments, before Jackie spoke again. “So you…”

“I had an abortion, yeah. It was the right choice for me at the time.”

“But the guy wasn’t there for you? Even though you guys were so young?”

Riley winced. She could follow her daughter’s thought process easily - two high schoolers should both feel like they aren’t ready to be parents. But Jackie was making an incorrect assumption. “Well, he wasn’t quite as young as me for one thing.” Jackie’s eyes widened at that. “Yeah, it’s as creepy as you are imagining. Turns out assholes who prey on girls much too young for them aren’t super supportive when you tell them you are pregnant.”

“Oh, Mom. I’m so-”

“Sweetie, I appreciate it, but my goal here isn’t to make this all about me.”

Jackie nodded. “I know. But I still am sorry.” She paused for a moment, eyes dropping to her feet. Riley watched her tuck her toes under an orange blanket before she spoke again. “I guess I just assumed, but maybe… if he had been supportive, would you have made a different choice?”

Riley waited until Jackie glanced back up and then she shook her head. “No, I would have made the same choice. I never had any thought of having a baby or putting one up for adoption for a lot of reasons. His attitude wasn’t even really a factor.”

“Still pretty shitty of him, though.”

“Just one of the many shitty things he did,” Riley said with her shrug.

“So was that the scariest time you had to take a pregnancy test?” 

Riley shook her head. Jackie’s eyebrows shot up at that.

“You had a worse pregnancy scare? Oh god, and here I am, crying out for my mommy when-”

Riley placed a hand on Jackie’s forearm, effectively cutting her off with her touch. “First of all, this isn’t a competition. Any pregnancy scare can be unsettling, okay? You don’t need to hit a certain threshold of traumatic shit to be freaking out and worried. I can promise you, the last thing on my mind when you called me was that you were overreacting. All I thought was that I hoped I could be there for you in a way that was helpful, because worrying about an unplanned pregnancy on top of a messy breakup sounds like a recipe for a mom not being able to make things better for her kid, no matter how much she wants to be able to help.”

A tear leaked down Jackie’s cheek, but she smiled at Riley as she grabbed her hand. “Trust me, Mom, you’re helping. Just being here is helping.”

“Good. Just let me know what else I can do, okay?”

Jackie nodded, letting out a sigh as she shifted closer to Riley, snuggling up against her side. Riley wrapped an arm around her, remembering all the times they used to cuddle on the couch when Jackie was upset growing up. It was so reminiscent of those moments from many years ago that Riley couldn’t help but ask, “Should we put on Moana?”

Jackie burst out laughing, tugging a blanket over both their laps. “I don’t know if that would be helpful anymore.”

“I don’t know, it worked pretty well from what? Age three to nine?”

Jackie tilted her head against Riley’s shoulder with one last chuckle. “Maybe we’ll save that for later, then.”

The pair sat in comfortable silence for close to a minute before Jackie spoke again. “Was there a second of all?”

“Huh?”

“Before, you said ‘first of all.’ Was there something else you wanted to say?”

Riley quickly thought back to the last few things she’d said before realizing where she’d been going. “Oh, just that my last pregnancy scare wasn’t my worst. It was just my scariest.”

Riley felt Jackie pull back, so she twisted to look her in the eyes. “There’s a difference, sweetie.”

Jackie frowned, running her fingers across the edge of her blanket. “I’ll bite. Why was it the scariest?”

“Because I didn’t know what my choice would be. I was not even close to being ready to be a mom, but I saw kids in the future for me and him. I didn’t know which feeling would win out.”

Riley could practically see the wheels spinning in her daughter’s mind, mulling over that statement. “I can see that, I guess. I don’t know though. I know what my choice will be, and I’m still mad scared.”

“I never said that the other times weren’t scary. But it’s different for everyone. You know that, Jackie. So many factors come into play - jobs, relationships, money, living situation, age, personal beliefs, that sense of being ready. I can’t tell you how to feel about this because even though I’ve gone through my own scares, that doesn’t make them the same as yours.”

“I know, I know. I just… I thought the break up was bad enough. I thought that Jason and I were it, you know? And then out of nowhere I had to move and put my life back together when all I wanted to do was eat caramel corn and lay in bed? That sucked so bad. But now I have to deal with this on top of all that?”

“It’s shitty, Jackie. There’s no point pretending it’s not.”

“Was it shitty even when the guy supported you?”

Riley nodded. “The sheer panic rolling through my body definitely sucked. But knowing that he was going to be there with me, no matter what, well that did help calm the storm a lot. That’s why it was my scariest, but not my worst.”

“The way you talk about that one… it was with Dad, right?”

Riley nodded again. “Yeah, sweetie. It was.”

“Was it… was I-”

“No, that was years before you, and I ended up not being pregnant,” Riley interrupted, not wanting her daughter to wonder for even a second more if she had been some unplanned source of turmoil. “Not that all wanted pregnancies are planned ones, but I promise you that you were both wanted and planned.” She leaned over and dropped a kiss on the top of her daughter’s head, nodding in reassurance as she settled back down on the futon. 

Jackie let out a sigh. “I want to say that going through this with Jason would be easier, but maybe you’re right. Maybe if we were still together, I’d be less sure about things, think about keeping it.”

All Riley could do was shrug. “Maybe you would feel differently. Or maybe you wouldn’t. It’s one of those things that it’s hard to know what choice you’d want to make if it was a different circumstance.”

Jackie grimaced and shook her head. “I guess it really doesn’t matter. It is what it is, right?”

Riley nodded. “All you can do is make the decision that’s right for you based on how your life looks right now.”

Jackie took in a deep breath, then let out a long sigh as she scooted off the futon. “Well, I guess then I better go pee on a strip so I can find out if I even have a decision to make.”

“No matter what happens, it’ll be okay. I’m here, alright? I love you, no matter what.”

Jackie nodded before turning to her left and walking towards a door that was presumably the bathroom. Before the door closed, she stuck her head out and said, “I’m really glad you’re here, Mom. I don’t know that I could have done this without you.”

Riley quickly swallowed down the lump in her throat that had formed at her daughter’s words. After all, this was about how Jackie was feeling, not her. But that degree of trust and openness and love was something she’d never felt towards a parent, and sometimes it still caught her off guard that she’d done enough as a mother to be worthy of such emotions. That in spite of her flaws and blunders and mistakes, she’d done enough right to have a good relationship with her kid. But she couldn’t dwell on that now, not when Jackie needed steady reassurance. So she just smiled gently and said the only thing that she could.

“Of course, sweetie. There’s not anywhere else I would be.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Perma: @forallthatitsworth @mom2000aggie @octobereighthfornow @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

TRR/TRH: @motorcitymademadame @iplaydrake @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @ladyangel70 @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @sirbeepsalot @iaminlovewithtrr  @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hedgehogs-dilemmas

Drake x MC: @rubiwalker @debramcg1106 @walkerdrakewalker @petiteboheme @mskaneko

ICWAM: @sunnyxdazed​

[justinjohn]

A New York State of Mind. 2.18.18

I’ve been out of NYC for about 3-4 months now. 

It’s been an insane two years. I feel like I’ve just woken from a coma, but in which I was awake and functioning but operating like one of those cockroaches that’s been taken over by a zombie wasp, maneuvering through the world but without free will. You know that feeling? “Automaton mode”? That was me for like the last several years– just sort of going through the motions, staring at the ceiling, waiting for it to be over, wondering where the remote is, if the Handmaid’s Tail is on yet. 

It’s taken me months of questioning myself, my identity, my dreams, my life, and doing the ‘Okay, so I’m 33 now - I have, like, how many good years before I am too decrepit to fly?” questioning, which I guess is premature, unless like me, you’re convinced there’s a terminal illness brewing inside you at all times just waiting to emerge. (Thank you @WebMD.)

So as I sit here with a blanket on my lap on this reflective Sunday, staring at the broken tortilla chips littering the carpet that missed my mouth last night and empty glass of wine on the coffee table, I thinking about “what’s different now?” And I realized that the longer you live in New York, it changes. It morphs. Sometimes for the better, and in my case, sometimes not. 

When you’re in New York in your twenties, the passage of time doesn’t exist as a concept: you’re too focused on work, Tinder, trying to not throw up in the cab on the way home, doing ‘brunch’ as a novelty thing with sunglasses on the whole time and bitching about how slow people walk on sidewalks. It’s this hubris ‘freedom of youth’, a 6-year alcohol-slide of fun after college that spits you out at 30 when you wake up with your first 3-day hangover you didn’t know was possible and the realization that three of your friends moved away for jobs, pregnancy, and ‘other pursuits’.

Except at 30 in New York, you’re like, “What other pursuits?” Other pursuits don’t exist in the lexicon of a die-hard New Yorker, so you just think everyone else is a cop-out for leaving, like those people who go home at 11:30 PM at a really good party, and you keep going because on the island of Manhattan, everyone is dancing and there’s no bar time. 

Except then, like me, you wake up a few years later and you realize that you’re still at the party but in a stupor in the corner, and the girl you used to hook up with 10 years ago is now a lesbian and 40% of the party has departed. Once you climb in mid- to late- thirties in New York and look around, 90% of your friends are still single, some are starting to go insane, and you find $160,000 in New York gets you a 650-sq foot one bedroom, you’re sort of like, “Wait, where’s my brownstone and executive husband who is going to surprise me with a ticket to the opera?” And in my case, I sort of realized, I was the one deluding myself. As you get older in New York, the experience centers more around a good bagel on a Saturday morning, runs along the river, more adult-like meetings that don’t end in someone doing coke in a bathroom stall. Seeing your friends’ baby and then calling your friends to talk shit about her.  For me, it included a constant state of exhaustion due to always feeling like I had to be productive at every waking second of my life, low-buzzing anger against tourists and crowds in any context whatsoever, and an undying fear of cockroaches. I lived a self-righteously independent lifestyle that required the existence of no one else, and I saw that going nowhere good. It was a moment when I realized, “Does this just continue until I die?” 

Retail changed. Fashion changed. I started to like dogs again. My sister had a baby. I was tired of flying all over the country and sleeping on hotel pillows that smelled like someone else’s hair. I stopped going out after work 5x a week. And restaurants seemed all overpriced with mediocre food. And the rest of the country was getting all the same places. I was realizing more and more that what made NYC special in my twenties just didn’t have the same sparkle.

My friends were mostly gone. My life had become a smaller vortex in a way I didn’t expect: marked by dinners the same people, the same restaurants, and I started to go to places I used to frequent that became younger versions of themselves for the ‘new class’ of young Manhattanites. And yet I still had only a partial set of dishes, no oven in my apartment, and when it would rain, the water would drip through my bathroom ceiling onto my toilet. I started to run out of bars if I saw I was out past 2 PM, and living in 300 square feet was just starting to feel more like a cage but with pre-war accents. And those nights of just going to Broadway shows on my own that I imagined? I did it once and I felt like that 85-year old gay man who loves musicals so much he goes to ‘show tunes’ night at the bar on Mondays to sing Bernadette Peters and people are like, “Clem has been coming here since 2006.”  So, no. That ended.

The construct of New York itself, as an intimidating, incomprehensible frontier, had withered; it wasn’t a playground for fun like it used to be, but rather now a place of subsisting where I now had to transition from “NYC” to “adulthood”, to real life, in a way I never thought possible, which grew in volume by the day until I couldn’t drown it out anymore. The days of taking subway rides to challenging jobs with fun dinner plans and a possible reckless night ahead had been laid to rest. Now, I was in the game of back waxing, face masks, and 11 AM body attack classes on Sundays, wondering if I should finally try to make my relationship work.. A word not in my lexicon in my 20s.

I had come to a moment in my life where I had to question: do I cling to this ideal of what I imagine New York is forever, or is there something behind the curtain of life I am missing in the process of being addicted to this pursuit?

Sometimes what we want is not what we need, and very often those things diametrically oppose one another. I wanted: fashion, money, status, clout, a big apartment, exotic travel.  I need: someone home with me, possibly a dog, good food, music, writing, adventure, family. 

Weird how simple it is, no?

Manhattan, to me in my twenties, was an eschewing of life and its convention, an escape from the imposition of social standards, freedom. And it was. But then you realize in your thirties: we are all actually just human. And the vulnerability of humanity rises above any place we choose to live. The need for love and socialization, to desire to co-habitate and be with friends and family (and for some to pro-create) will rise about the context of any city and its wonderful, sophisticated distractions. 

New York is a state of mind.

It hasn’t been easy. In four months I’ve almost moved back twice, like some Stockholm syndrome, this magnet of promise of a life that once was, of relevance and excitement, which is now a proverbial urn filled with the ashes of fabulous memories we will retell over drinks, which periodically pop up on my facebook feed as embarrassing face-palm reminders of my behavior.

I’ve been forced to look at life in a bigger way, beyond ‘Manhattan’,  and in hopes that I haven’t broken our relationship for good. 

And so it is after 10 years of fashion, two moves, that I am trying to now rediscover life in all of its new meaning. It’s weird and hard and yet kind of fun and I’m doing my best to learn the ropes. I hope I hit my stride soon.

---

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[ahqueenoh]

Katz’s Diner

I will be the first to hold my hand up and admit that the only reason I went to Katz’s Diner is because I am a HUGE When Harry Met Sally fan, it is literally one of the best Rom-Coms in history and I will not let anyone tell me differently and I simply had to eat in the diner that iconic scene was filmed in!

Katz’s was packed from the moment we entered, you have two choices when dinning at Katz’s, you can “self serve” which is when you queue at various numbers, order your food and then find yourself a seat or you can have wait staff, which the hostess told us was a 25 minute wait for a table.

We decided on waiting for the wait staff which, on this occasion was only around 10 minutes.

All the tables in Katz’s are communal, we were sat at a four with a couple who (like us) were clearly tourists, although (unlike us) spoke another language, so as we both got on with our respective conversations our waiter appeared and the only way I can possibly describe him is a human embodiment of a Ronald Dahl character brought to life by Quentin Blake’s illustration.

He seemed about ready to retire, with a friendly face, worn out uniform and the energy of a 30 year old (despite the face of someone more mature).

Where this energy came from I couldn’t tell you, because throughout the meal there were moments where I truly believed he was going to topple over. Unlike almost every other waiter who served us this gentleman stopped, asked us exactly what we wanted and diligently wrote our order down and read it back to us before he left our table. Be warned though, part of the fun of Katz’s is our protagonist of this story will spill your beer and the odd chip but that’s part of the fun!

There’s an energy in Katz’s that can’t be found anywhere else, from the staff that all resemble characters from my childhood books, to the people queuing for their sandwiches at the deli bar, as I write this I can almost hear the whoosh of the meat and cheese slicers and the babble of New Yorkers desperate for their sandwich to be made just how they like it!

Everything about Katz’s is simply glorious! The walls tell you a detailed story of the people who worked there and the many guests they’ve fed, a sign tells you just where Harry met Sally and their slogan of “send a salami to your boy in the army!” is plastered everywhere. You can even purchase various Katz’s T-shirts to memorialise the event.

Overall Katz’s has a vibrant, colourful atmosphere topped off perfectly with delicious food and cheery staff, if you have the time to go (and the patience to queue) you will thoroughly enjoy your meal.

What I ate:

Pastrami sandwich

Fries

Katz’s is famous for its pastrami, they make it themselves in store so you really must have a pastrami sandwich when you go there in fact, in my eyes, the only acceptable reasons not to have pastrami are:

1. you’re allergic to pastrami

2. You’re a vegetarian

3. You’re a vegan (darling, perhaps Katz’s is not the place for you)

Now if, sorry, when you order your pastrami sandwich you can add a range of things to it, onion, cheese, coleslaw, mayonnaise (the menu suggests mayo “at your peril”).

Now given how large these sandwiches are, my guest and I decided to split one, she also, kindly allowed me to add cheese and onion to the mix, while she ordered us a side of fries which just hit the spot. The fries or (as we say in London) chips, were thick and chunky (exactly the sort of chips you’d expect at your local fish and chip shop) yet fluffy and light inside. Each meal comes with complimentary pickles, which brought a smile to my face a spring to the step of my rumbling belly.

But really the crown jewel was the sandwich, now, I had never had pastrami before Katz’s but this sandwich was the work of a god, it was crafted to perfection, melting in your mouth! Your taste buds engulfed by the delicious meaty, peppery taste of heaven.

(Seriously my best sexual experience had nothing on this sandwich.)

Both my guest and I agreed that the cheese and onion was a great addition, marvelling at the glory of this sandwich, but, alas, as soon a we had tasted this slice of heaven it was gone.

The sandwiches may be large and in charge, but don’t let the size intimidate you, despite its mighty girth, this perfect example of a sandwich did not cause me to feel overstuffed, bloated or sick. Both my guest and I left Katz’s in a warm haze, shrouded in an afterglow that only the finest foodgasim can give you.

(My guest later told me she did not like pastrami, however deeply enjoyed the sandwich we had shared and that, her views had slightly changed on pastrami as a whole.)

Restaurant address:

205 E Houston St, NY 10002

[apexart-journal]

Matheus Rocha Pitta days 1 and 2

Finally landed in New York Wonderland. Free falling from Berlin, 10-hour flight, stopover Iceland. Diving into a golden cloud to reach the island, getting out of the plane under strong winds. Feeding my vice in a smoking area that looks like a cage. Taking another plane. Greenland at the window. White on white on white – impossible to tell what’s cloud, what’s ice, what’s sea. Terrible but calming, like the pizza I order for lunch.

Smooth arrival in the apartment, keys waiting for me. It’s a huge, or better, a cluster of huge towers. Two elevators, corridors and the door opens, a spacious apartment full of mirrors. Wish I was into self-portraiture, I wonder.  Alice thru the selfie-stick.  After a shower, I eat and sleep.

The first morning I go down, even more dazzled by the mirrors and glasses. Got a coffee, go out for a walk. Sounds, sights from everywhere. Even the ground beneath my feet trembles with the underground train. Overexcitement, green lights, cross it.  Alea jacta est, fortune is released, no more return, I’m finally landed.

Even if it’s 7:30 AM, new yorkers are already walking and talking loud on the phone. Not only freedom of speech but loudness of speech.  I hear something terrifying. “This man is burying himself alive with every step he takes. And as I long as I am alive I will watch it with pleasure”, yells a lady on her cell.  I’m petrified. Is every step taken towards freedom pouring dirt on a grave? Is the rabbit’s hole Alice’s tomb? If so what would be the epitaph?

Alea jacta est . That’s the first appearance of a new character in this journal, Leah. It is chance in pure state, as it incarnates in the new-yorkers-yelling-in-the-mobile in the streets NY, counselling me on the search for freedom, aka, the rabbit.  I’m not sure if she’s on my side but I’m looking forward for the next meeting.

…

It’s 10 AM and Abbie knocks at my door. She came to show me the tower’s facilities. We salute each other with solar smiles. Unlike Leah, she’s real and has a warm and calm voice. We meet again for lunch at Apex Art, where a show opens that evening.  Everybody looks super human, the office is messy as it should be. I feel a little bit of jealousy for that environment. We talk about many things at lunch. The art world, class, nepotism, marginality, vulnerability. A very welcoming atmosphere of agreement, like being home.

Than I head to my first therapy session. My last psychoanalysis session was four months ago in Rio, I miss it.  Again, a very warm reception. Nancy explains me the rules of the game. She reminds me that everything I say there is strictly confidential – something I’ve forgotten or never brought to the foreground. Should be a reciprocal confidentiality, I agree. A curfew among friends.

Second day starts with a boat trip around Manhattan. It’s cold, cloudy and rainy. Before heading to the pier, I try to walk around but it’s irritating. Don’t think Leah will appear with this weather – I definitely wouldn’t.  

“It’s a super full moon, so the tide is slightly higher”, explains the guide tour. “So it’s risky to circle the island so we’ll turn back at a certain point, breaking the circle”. I’m sleepy and it is super warm in the ferry. Not so many tourists came. The guide is always joking but nobody laughs. I resist being awake, but his sad jokes slowly become a mass of indistinct lullabies.  The last thing I remember is seeing the statue of liberty. In my nap I dream with redemptive freedom. The statue of Christ the Redeemer flees from Rio, fearing iconoclasm under the new regime. In a rainy night he releases himself from the pedestal and jumps into a cloud. Brazilians are so busy in their cultural wars that nobody notices it. The cloud brings Christ to NYC and he falls in love the statue of Liberty. He approaches her in and quite old style way. “Hey lady, can I use your lighter please?”  The statue of Liberty blushes. “Yes, of course”, handling the torch to Christ. He lights a joint, offering her a drag. “you’re also free to say no”, says the Redeemer.

I woke up in a better mood and appreciate the landscape in the window.  It’s hard to ignore the guide’s voice, but I’m still fascinated. He thanks everybody to come in such an ugly day. I finally feel some sympathy for him.

Next activity is to come to the New York Public Library to write these words. I immediately love the place. After climbing the marble stairs I’m faced with an exhibition of 50 years of Stonewall. Empty Closets! Come out! I read in the posters on the black and white photos. I feel proud, wondering which is the best drag name, Alice or Leah?

[weixunhe-blog]

I didn’t go to Japan to make friends… But during my 7 day solo trip around Hokkaido, I had the pleasure of meeting some quality people who opened up theirs arms to a complete stranger. However brief our time together was before nature pulled me away, these people made my individualistic journey more sociable and connected. Through the process, it helped a foreigner like me feel a whole lot more welcome in this wonderful country. So in chronological order...

The Friendly JR Gatekeepers When I made my first stop in Hokkaido, my mind was filled with uncertainty. What can I even do in Hokkaido (result of not doing much homework)? What are Hokkaidans like? Is that even what you call them? Is it going to be this cold the whole time (the chilly rain was drizzling so slowly that I first thought it was snow)?… As I was waiting for the hourly transfer train to Hakodate, I went to chat with the gatekeepers to kill time… cause why not. Luckily, they spoke the best English I had heard in these past two days and I was ecstatic! I took this rare opportunity to ask them some translation questions and together, we constructed a brief introduction I can use to introduce myself to others. It goes: “Watashi wa MIT de benkyou shiteiru daigakusei des. America kara kimashita. Watashi wa nijūni sai desu. Watashi wa Gijutsu-shxa desu”. Simple, but to the point; a short answer, but I was immensely grateful.

The Global German Engineer My airbnb in Hakodate was huge. It was a 4 story building with several rooms every floor, in addition to lounge areas and showers. But the weather there is still very cold and rainy, which is not inviting to most tourists (except for the careless ones who didn’t do sufficient prior research, like me). My host shared that his place was in fact very empty, but there is this German dude down the hall. I didn’t think much of it because I didn’t come here to make friends… But on my way out, I saw the German doing laundry, and I couldn’t help but flex my extremely limited German knowledge and say hi. This guy was chill. It turned out that he is a software engineer from Munster working remote. I suggested that if the stars align, we can grab dinner when he’s done with work at 7pm. After hiking Mount Hakodate and exploring the old warehouses and streets of Hakodate, it was exactly 7pm and I was hungry. Wow, the stars aligned… We met up at this local restaurant that our host recommended. It was an one woman show where the mom cooks traditional Japanese comfort food. I was so down! The food was amazing. Falk and I shared some stories, talked about working abroad, and pondered about life and how exciting it is. Then we grabbed a picture with the master chef before I went home to crash (camped out the previous night at Sendai and did not have any sleep at all).

MIT Students from the Other Side of the World For my second night camping, I decided to set up right next to the train tracks of the JR station in Noboribetsu. I figured that since my tent is green like the bushes and the JR stops running at midnight, I should be safe and people wouldn’t come wander here. I was right. But like the first night, it rained again and I woke up at 3:30am freezing and wet. What’s nice about waking up early in Japan is that the sun rises at 4am. So I decided to walk to the water area cause… water is nice. As I got closer to the beach, 3 guys walked out of a van. It’s freaking 4am, what are these guys up to? “Wassup guys, are you going to the beach too?” “Nah, we’re going bouldering!” We had a really funny conversation. I found out that they are college students studying STEM nearby (what a small world). And they are driving here early so they can have some fun with the rocks before classes begin. They’re from a place nearby called Muroran, and their tech school, appropriately, is called Muroran Institute of Technology… I was really confused at some point because I said I am from MIT and they said they are as well, correctly so, but I had never seen them on campus before. Anyways, I really enjoyed crazily camping next to the train tracks and waking up to bump into these other crazy people doing crazy things in the middle of nowhere crazy early.

The Hitchhiker-Friendly Family After visiting Farm Tomita, a lavender farm, and being overtly disappointed because most of the flowers has not bloomed yet and lavenders doesn’t even smell that good in person, I embarked on a 4 mile trek to the next train station (as opposed to walk backwards for a mile…). After walking what seemed like an endless road along never ending rice paddy fields, I decided to spice things up and try my luck getting a ride on the road. After 30 minutes of walking with my thumbs up, a tiny orange car (all Japanese cars are super small) stopped in front of me. Jean was on her way to Biei with her family, which is actually where I wanted to go as well! She shared with me her very interesting story of how she moved to Japan 9 years ago to raise her kids, learnt Japanese once she got here by watching TV shows (there is hope y’all), and how the working culture here sucks. I asked her about the weather and whether if it’s normally this cold at this time of the year, and she revealed that the weather this year has been very unusual. In fact, her farming friends are worried that their rice fields won’t yield because of the abnormal coldness at this time of the year. All in all, I really appreciated her ride and she was happy that I contributed to her annual statistic of picking up hitchhikers (I was her first one this year!!!).

The Drunkenly Generous Local This time, I was in a small fishing town with a population of perhaps 500, aka middle of nowhere. I took a 2 hour bus from Otaru, a famously romantic spot that tourists love, to visit Cape Kamui and Ōgon, and decided last minute to camp at Ōgon as opposed to return to the city. There’s a total of 4 restaurants here and I chose to go to Jun’s seafood restaurant cause it won my 4 sided coin toss. I sat at the bar table of this very local restaurant since I was alone, and here is where I met my favorite local of this entire trip. I put in an order for a seafood bento, basically exactly what the guy next to me was eating because DAMN that looked fine. Then I just kept to myself and started writing down some thoughts and feelings in my journal. As I was waiting for my food, the local next to me offered me a piece of his fried chicken. Oh how can I resist? I had heard great things about how the chicken here is fried in a unique way but I never ordered it because I didn’t want to eat the whole thing. I thanked him and we started chatting. He used to work for an American Film company in Taiwan, which explains how he knows English, but he has since forgotten most of it. This man was extremely ebullient and friendly. He tried to ask me a lot of questions and I tried my best to answer, and in the process, he offered me “Japanese vodka” (made in Korea lol) multiple times, freshly fried shrimp tempura (oishii), and at some point, he even offered me his entire bento! Even though I didn’t double my meal by taking his bento, my dinner turned into a feast of good food and social interaction. I wish that I spoke better Japanese so I can converse with him more and share more about myself. In any case, I bid him good bye after spending 3 hours with him at the restaurant and I went to camp a bit warmer than usual ;)

The Affectionate Bike Dad I arrived at Otaru at 7am on a Sunday. This was quite early for most shops because everything was still closed. As I walked around the area outside of the train station, I was intrigued by this sign advertising about a bike shop on the hill. So I followed the directions and found this cute little wooden shipping container on top of said hill with bikes all around it. I chatted with this man about the options and after some negotiation in broken Japanese and English, he offered to rent me an electric bike (WOOOO) for 2 hours, hold my bulky backpack, AND charge all of my electronics (all of which were dried); all for just 800 yen. On a high level, this was just a market transaction, but I was very internally thankful. My phone and camera batteries were dead from the night before and desperately needed charging; I was very tired of carrying my bag around because it is quite unwieldy; I MISS BIKING. So I took his awesome offer and biked around town for 2 hours and saw everything before the usual tourist invasion at 9am.

The Kindhearted Coffee Makers After my Hokkaido solo, I returned to Tokyo and promised to meet a friend for dinner at this restaurant. In retrospect, it turns out this restaurant has multiple stores and I would visit the wrong one. While I was waiting at the wrong store for my friend, most people around me were holding an umbrella and wearing layers because it was raining and a bit chilly. I stood in front of this cute little coffee shop that was like a hole in the wall. I first approached the owners and asked them if there were any places nearby where I can find WIFI so I can communicate with my friend, and they generously offered me their own. As I was standing there waiting, they offered me an umbrella, their bench to sit on, both of which I refused because I wanted to carry on the outlook of a New Yorker and someone who just finished a 7 day solo. Then they offered me a cup of their home-brew Sarutahiko "Japanese flavor” coffee, and I couldn’t help but accept it because I didn’t want to tell them to pour it away. If frozen rocks had hearts, they would melt like mine did when I took a sip of their coffee. Even though it wasn’t anything special, the location and context really warmed my soul. And deep down, I was very appreciative of their small act of kindness.

The Curious Policemen After I realized that I was waiting at the wrong restaurant, I navigated from Shinjuku to Shibuya to meet my friend. As I was traveling through the dense underground urban traffic at peak rush hour (a very long walk through a lot of busy office workers), I couldn’t help but attract the attention of the police. You see, after traveling solo in the rural countryside for 7 days, I look very funny in a big city. Aside from how terrible I must have smelled after not showering for 3 days, I was carrying this big wide green bag that could potentially fit a lot of dangerous weapons (or onigiris). So I got stopped by two policemen to do a full body check. Thankfully, they didn’t take my multitool blade too seriously and let me go after 5 minutes. But I thought it was funny how they explored my bag only to realize that the biggest pocket was used to hold my bed, leaving no space to store anything else.