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SUPER DAVID

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SUPER DAVID

Article

SUPER DAVID is a recurring venue in the Collected Agenda archive, appearing 1 times across 1 issues between April 15, 2025 and April 15, 2025. The archive places it in contexts such as “SUPER DAVID, the sign on the convenience store said”. It most often appears alongside Alex Kazemi, Anthony Galluzzo, BioBat Art Space.

Metadata

  • Category: Venues
  • Mention count: 1
  • Issue count: 1
  • First seen: April 15, 2025
  • Last seen: April 15, 2025

Appears In

  • [[issues/2025-04-15_redacted-is-awful_full|[REDACTED] is awful ]]

None.

Source Context

Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.

[REDACTED] is awful
April 15, 2025 · Original source
WHAT I DID Saturday, April 5 My boyfriend is in Costa Rica posting photos of Mel Gibson's house down the hill and playing me recordings of Mel Gibson verbally abusing his wife. I'm lying on a small thin bed in Costa Rica and I'm mostly tuning this out, along with mostly tuning out the other things - horses and howler monkeys outside. Quieter, the buzz of insects and even, distantly, the roaring waves. These are the types of things I should really tune in. Everything just clicked these past few weeks. I know how to be now, but I don't know how to vocalize it yet. We took the ATV over the mountain to the chocolate shop this afternoon. We bought iberico ham and we ate it in the forest along with melted chocolate in ceramic cups, vegan pear cake, espresso, cocoa husks. SUPER DAVID, the sign on the convenience store said. Tsunami evacuation route, all the signs on the side of the road said. I am getting better at sitting on the back of the ATV. I haven't tried the driving part, because I don't know how to drive stick shift and because they told me there is some correlation between the two. I am getting better at being very focused, and sometimes, at being very removed. There is a crash outside, and my boyfriend opens the door to tell me it was just because he fell out of the hammock. I tell him I am going to go for a walk. There's a beach close by, and if I pace this stretch of road a few times over I can catch the sunset at all its different stages. I can catch myself surprised each time I round the bend and I see how the colors have just barely shifted. There is going to be a lot more routine once I am back in New York. I have a lot of plans, and there will be a lot more staying put. My fingernails are filthy from the dust. I have decided that, going forward, I am going to be significantly more removed from all the things I used to seek. Sunday, April 6 Watermelon slushie for breakfast and I woke up all feverish which means the sea plane isn't an option anymore so we'll be lingering here for at least a little longer. Dinner was nice last night - left the hotel in hazy dusk and we hit a storm surf side almost as soon as we were on the road. "It's pouring," said the friends we were meeting for dinner, and I said oh really it's not raining for us and then shortly after we were barreling through the downfall. David drives too fast but I haven't been being too difficult about it. There is very little in today, then. Shivering down the secret path at sunset and there's something kind of nice about being very ill in very intense heat. My boyfriend is unenthused by the sunset. “We'll watch the sunset here tomorrow," he says. He makes up a rhyme about me to compensate for his lack of appreciation in the magic of the view. REDACTED is awful. REDACTED is stupid. REDACTED is going to choke on ceviche and get put in an unmarked grave. With full sincerity, I find the rhyme kind of sweet. It's sweet like its opposite day, and like he's grinning ear to ear and so I know that he actually really hopes that none of that stuff actually happens to me. I haven't been reading anything that's not for school because the heat has made me not just languid but also feverish and with all that - hyper impressionable. I've been absorbing anything I consume and taking on the tone like it's my own. I read some novella that I don't even like and then I write a nasty little short story about what I imagine it is like to be my friend. I don't know why the story is so nasty, because I think I am a pretty good friend. A better friend than I am a daughter or certainly a sister or even a girlfriend and, it's either all this useless contemplation or it's taking off-brand medication to quell the fever and now I can go to the party. I go to the type of party where it's on the beach and the tourists are making a congo line and my boyfriend and I are eating things like ceviche and fish skewers and Coco Loco and I say please give me the BAD rum when the waitress asks which one i want (bad, medium, and great are the options, price differences to match and i am totally out of money). The rain has come way too early this year. Something about Climate Change. Something about Climate Change is accelerating once in 1000 year weather cycles here to once in one year. I sit under a straw hut at this conga line party in the acid rain storm and I carve out the inside of my coconut drink with a spoon which makes everyone, particularly my boyfriend very annoyed. A river full of hermit crabs forms in the sand under my feet, and I prop my beat up sneakers on my boyfriend's lap which makes everyone, particularly him, even more annoyed. Anyways, I'd been trying to be more gentle about it. I will try even harder tomorrow. Monday, April 7 Me Being More Gentle About It: Little spiders climb up and down my arms as I sit in the yoga tent and go to school on my Computer. The men are back at the horses stables this morning, brushing the animals off and dust goes flying, red flower petals keep blowing down from the trees and creating a sort of storm of pollen in the dusty air. Something great happened last night. At first, I was worried about it, but things turned out fine and so in retrospect, it was something great. Driving back from dinner on the ATV, there had been a storm on the beach and so we’d been stuck there for a while, getting a little drenched even huddled under the tent and finally we were driving back, open air, wet road, bright moon and suddenly there was a little black colt standing lost in the middle of the street. I got off the ATV, moonshine shimmering off all the puddles, the animal was not concerned, it was just standing in the street looking up at me and then we walked together, across the wet pavement and into wet dirt, down the dark dirt road and then I left it by the stable - we couldn't find the gate but it wasn’t looking to wander more. Today, the horse is fine, and I knew that it would be. I think it was some kind of omen, maybe. A reminder to consult with the stars, and particularly, lately, to check on the tides. I'll be back in New York tomorrow - having strange flashbacks to being a gallery girl intern and waking up all bright eyed and opportunistic with the sun. When I think about that, I get all excited to be back in the city. I could be a Permafreelance assistant for a prestige publication and make $9.77 an hour this summer if I wanted. Permafreelance is their word, not mine. It means you work full time but you don't get benefits or vacation. You can’t, with any self respect, be nearly twenty five years old and still reveling in an exploitative half job lugging garment bags around New York but if you could, then you probably still would. I could spend the summer reading The Greats and I could spend the fall reading everything Semiotext(e) has ever published. I could start a strange project called [REDACTED] that is sure to be a hit. Yeah, it's time to go back to New York though. David and I watched the sunset for real tonight. I found the Secret Beach. Yeah, it is pretty magic, David said. Tuesday, April 8 I had too many yuca fries before the beef stew dinner last night and so I wasn’t too hungry, went to bed early, didn't sleep a wink and now it's dawn. We eat dinner at Ritual most nights in Malpais. Ritual is the cafe that David’s friend's girlfriend owns. It is full of wonderful things like a tart made of avocados and cashews and coconut oil, or espresso mixed with orange juice, or, last night was stew from the meat we grilled over the weekend, and last night the restaurant was closed, just accessible for us, I went to bed too early. Fog at sunrise today. I pack up and I tiptoe out of the hotel. David finds me by the horses in the morning dew making scratch marks on paper. I tell him that I don't take any of it for granted, and I mean it when I say it. I get in a taxi, and then I am by myself again. At the airport, I am too tired to even be on edge. I text Sylvie and Rebecca about the project idea that is sure to be a hit. Do you want to be a part of [new hit project] I say. Yes, they both say. At the airport, I kind of want to go slump over in a booth, and so I go and sit inside an awful place called GastroPub and I order one of those awful salads with the canned black olives and the dried mushrooms and cranberries and shaved almonds and some generic seed oil filled dressing, you know the type. I order a black coffee, too. The seed oil dressing on the side comes dangerously close to sloshing all over my coffee. I pick the chicken out of my salad with some care and eat only that, while the rest of the whole soggy heap of food kind of collapses in on itself. I spend twenty one dollars. Then, I spend nineteen dollars on some coffee and electrolytes and macaroons from Starbucks. I make sure to time my macaron consumption to end at twelve noon exactly, and then I set a timer for 36 Hours. A Monk Fast. This is the sort of thing that can be done when one is at the airport feeling bogged down. Obviously, I am not actually going to join a cult. It's mostly just aesthetic fixation. Style over substance. The real issue intellectually is if you can't truly distinguish yourself from something like the plastic tray on the plane in front of you. I haven't even really tried too hard to find a God. I'm sorry. WHAT YOU SHOULD DO Tuesday, April 15 From 8pm - late at (RSVP for location) — Terms Eccles is throwing another tax day party!! - “talking broadly about money and art and downtown and midtown, all at once. the only thing that will make tax day worth celebrating.”
Inline links: https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!Q9U2!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F5cd9b963-4230-4508-8b2a-e1eb27f1bdce_1600x882.png, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!j6Cp!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb33657e9-0216-4c78-a2b9-25d2e1c66ed3_1600x1200.jpeg, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!5KHr!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F08e93783-43a6-4b3f-90ab-827d6d614ce1_1200x1600.jpeg, Terms Eccles
  • [[issues/2025-04-15_redacted-is-awful_full|[REDACTED] is awful ]]
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