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Things that Happened Once I Gave Up Vice

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Things that Happened Once I Gave Up Vice

WHAT I DID Monday, November 3 And so everything kind of begins to hover as November sweeps in. One can leave the city and then one can return. I call Amelia and ask if she’d like to go on another vacation for the aim of seeking things that are transgressive and weird, but the heat and the restlessness and the Miami sun of late-may is long gone, we never did visit the falconry like we planned, everyone would probably

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WHAT I DID Monday, November 3 And so everything kind of begins to hover as November sweeps in. The in between weeks. One can leave the city and then one can return. I call Amelia and ask if she’d like to go on another vacation for the aim of seeking things that are transgressive and weird, but the heat and the restlessness and the Miami sun of late-may is long gone, we never did visit the falconry like we planned, everyone would probably prefer to just stay put. Boil bone broth, go to a film, seek employment, write at the gym, braid and unbraid my hair three to four times before I decide to give it a rest. Do you really hate staying put that much ?, Amelia asks. I go to the West Village Bitcoin Bar past ten pm in response. Still feverish from the last few days, but the wind outside is nice and the walk along Washington Square Park is quiet, tracing the streets along the park’s West edges past the brownstones and the Washington Square Hotel and the Marlton Hotel and then Pubkey Bar. It is not so much a thing of hating to stay put, but more of feng shui, four small walls, wind and water through my open window and I think most people dislike solitude of a certain kind, which can easily be mistaken for stillness. Pubkey Bar is always lit up kind of like an arcade. They sold some sign about crypto for one million dollars here, once. They sold the president’s autograph. They made me pickletinis and diet coke and seed-oil-free nachos and I used to be kind of manic here, drunk and yelling in the wind and on the street. It is such a desperately quiet night tonight. My friends are seated in the back rooms talking softly about the most valuable parts of a whole whale, their most favorite things about the people close to them, the best sound to elicit tears, the best cherry liqueur, the best ideas for how a person should be. It all comes at me kind of underwater, anyways. It’s all felt kind of shadowy as this year writes over the year before. Tuesday, November 4 And so all the energy came swirling back in an instant. They are playing sweet music like some of the My Fair Lady and the Mad Men soundtrack and J’ai 18 Ans and Zou Bisou Bisou at the hotel lobby with the roaring fireplace and the Cecily Brown mural and the young couples wearing cream slacks and red sweaters and holding newspapers and crinkled baskets of pastries. I have loved winter in New York the most of anything these past few years, and I’d been worried this one would not hold quite the same magic. Walk through the park while it is still early. Wear mostly skirts and tights and thin strapped tops and ballet flats, all black. Order ginger turmeric tea and almond milk cappuccino and write stories by the fire. Disavow hedonism. Disavow becoming the sort of person who does the certain types of things. There’s an order to these things. I tell Amelia; it is good to be mostly quiet . It is good to go to mostly the same places a million times over if the places one chooses are good. Wednesday, November 5 Did you notice everyone became very pleased that you were becoming exactly who you were meant to be when they first put you on Adderall? “ Ellie asked me at the party last night. The night was very warm and the party was very quiet and I was pleased with myself for my relative self possession that evening, which was the goal of the fall and the winter and the days that stretched out kind of breathless. Secret-keepers and Promise-Keepers and finding equilibrium between Self-Possession and Self-Awareness. These were the vaguely worded goals of the winter. No I didn’t really find that , I told Ellie. But I never got the chance to live out my potential on stimulants because I took it too far right away. Ellie nodded with sincere interest. My friends these days were very sincere. And the party was strange because the seating was in bleachers instead of tables and the music was jazz and my friends were very well dressed, decked in corsets and ballet flats and beaded belts and hair with ribbons and holding sparkling drinks with lime and aperol and smiling very broadly. I noticed that time had been passing all along sometime in early November. and so the following fervor came spurred by the sense that something might finally happen. The air got barely perceptively colder and ghosts washed up in dreams or in my courtyard or in signs and symbols like the strange numbers I’d been seeing on the sidewalk. It had been five months to the day since the start of summer and the lurching of my life in unexpected and nefarious though perhaps ultimately necessary ways, which I suppose just goes to show that some sort of momentum was required for time to do anything aside from idly tick on. I remembered that it is just one or two or three promises I make myself and others, though it becomes one million promises if you break one promise a million times. Thursday, November 6 I did nothing in the day yesterday besides watch the clouds make shadows out of various shades of light and dusk across my walls and then I pulled on a small black dress and black Ganni crumbling boots and walked through the quiet night towards Chinatown. The air was too stale and tight inside the sports bar where my friends were all smiles and drinking water and vodka and asking me about fun and faith and so then I walked further downtown to the new wine bar on Henry Street. Here, everyone was very drunk and cast in red light and our table was set in a hallway that resembled a kindergarten classroom and an eclectic group of acquaintances I knew from the Internet or Birthday Parties or Religious Magazines were sharing bottles of wine. To sleep very little means a dream state in the gray morning, which is nice because November Ninth marks the first real distance from the summer for me. The cycles repeated. The cycles grinded to a halt. I woke up to gray morning light through my still open window with a spiral bound notebook and an idea for transcription on the blank page: THINGS THAT HAPPENED ONCE I GAVE UP VICE. Friday, November 7 Listening to Chopin Nocturne op.9 no.2 while the sound of rain mixes with the sound of the turtle pond out the window and I swim in all the visions of where I’ve heard this song before. Like twirling around on brown wood floors during summer storms in the dining room at the house by the ocean while my parents cook fish stews in the kitchen and the floors turn yellow linoleum when you approach the stove and the pouring rain outside streams through the windows and all over the counters. The memory of twirling around and the smell of rain is always the most vivid of all. Like I’m always hurdling towards something or lying very still in all my recollections of things. Obsessed with motion. Arrested by motion! So the main thing now is momentum, I suppose. My Computer keeps on queuing up Chopin the The Nutcracker and Philip Glass Mishima based on past listening habits, but these two scores are both a bit too much to bear right now and so I’m hitting Skip Skip Skip. Not too much has happened since I gave up vice yesterday. Just; Rebecca told me that I look well rested, and the story about El Salvador and network states and techno-spirituality is off to print so I will soon be able to hold it in my hands and then relinquish any narrativization of past events and, it would be nice for energy drinks and nicotine to be coursing through my veins right now but there is something more beautiful and languid in self-induced timeout over microplastics and mind altering substances. Moonless night. Moon hidden behind the rainstorm. WHAT YOU SHOULD DO Wednesday, November 12 - From 6:30pm at Night Club 101 — Free reading series Reading 101 launches, ft Swati Sudarsan, Adrienne Raphel, Jessica Lynne, Aurora Huiza, and James Barickman. Music by Solex Yoghurt. - From 7pm - 8:30pm at The Brooklyn Center for Theatre Research — This Time by Matthew Gasda returns - “a play about relationships with a metaphysical twist.” | Tickets here (plus another performance on Thursday ) - From 7pm - 9pm at Surrender Dorothy — The Whitney Review hosts a reading in celebration of Issue 006. I have a mini review of Anika Jade Levy’s fabulous new book Flat Earth in here. Readings by Enzo Escober, Francesca Lia Block, Gerlan Marcel, Mara Mckevitt, and Umesi Michael Louis. Vibes are haunted horror. If you can’t make it today. || RSVP required. And if you can’t make it today, Surrender Dorothy is still worth checking out - a new artist-run Wizard of Oz concept store. - From 11pm at Paul’s Baby Grand — New party debuts: “you’re invited to our wedding.” - Screening every hour or two from 10am - 10pm at Angelika Film — My movie chat recommends Sentimental Value (2025) ( Joachim Trier ). A Norwegian film with good Scandinavian interiors that deteriorate as the film progresses, according to my sources. Thursday, November 13 - From 6pm - 8pm at Parent Company — Kevin Dudley preLAUNCH and Phoebus Osborne Oh, it’s my ass and my anus opens. Quite the exhibition title. I really like everything Parent Company has been showing this past year, and I’m excited about the inaugural exhibitions in their new space . - From 6pm - 8pm at Foreign Domestic — Another downtown opening - Travis Fairclough ‘Casino Pier’. - From 7pm at Dear Friend Books — River L. Ramirez celebrates the release of “7” - a book of short stories with indie press Clockface. | RSVP here . - From 9pm at Performa Hub — The Performa Biennial continues with an artist talk ft Dozie Kanu, Matt Hilvers, Chukwumamaa, and Fiona Duncan. Friday, November 14 - From 7pm - 9pm at Brooklyn Center for Theatre Research — Another performance of Little Murders - “Talks of dead son’s, fecal photography, Vogue, and the “Breather” are just a taste of what happens in this Norman Rockwell-painting-gone-awry.” | Additional showtime 11/15 - From 7pm - 10pm at Tawny — Ten Today turns One Year Old! An ode to the retro-internet, 10 Today is one of my favorite places online; read “10 Reasons We Have Miami at Home” and “10 prayer requests” to start. Tawny is one of my favorite new spots, so attend to sus out your new favorite (anonymous) writers - LONDON - From 8pm - 11pm at Candid Arts Trust — Notch Mag celebrates London release of ISSUE 003: CURRENTS . Featuring readings, artist talks, and video installations by Fonie Mitsopoulou, Ariel Rose Poet, Connor Vlb, Banan Al-Nasery, and Gustavo Munoz. Saturday, November 15 - From 2pm - 5pm at ffffooooooood — @quietluke plays a simultaneous match with all patrons at the counter. Food by @shrimpandgritseater . Club chess music programme to accompany. - From 6pm - 9pm at Lubov — My Barbarian Cat Suit opens. - “ the first of four suits that will make up the Minor Arcana of their Tarot deck. We climb with them into the symbolic world of the cat and find it a strange and flaming mirror of our own.” - From 9pm at Performa Hub — The Whitney Review officially celebrates the launch of Issue 006. Ft performances by Abdu Mongo Ali, Canal Street Research Association, and Ryanaustin Dennis - LONDON – From 7:30pm at Reference Point — SPRAY (the book) launches - “Published following the exhibition at Season 4 Episode 6, ‘Spray’ includes the complete text, imagery, and other ephemera collected and generated during Ella Fleck’s 7 month online performance as “Jonathan Michaels”.” Ft readings by Frankie Faccion, Gabrielle Sicam, Jessica Key, Myles Zaveo, Poorspigga. Hosted by Ella Fox-Martens. Sunday, November 16 - From 2pm - 6pm at Cinnamon House (139 Woodbine St, Brooklyn, NY) — Sunday Salon returns with a cozy afternoon, ft music by Le Keep and Nikita Lev, readings by Katya, Matt Weinberger, Alex Kilgore, and more. RSVP here - From 6pm - 9pm at The River — Arcane celebrates its launch with screenings and readings, ft Michel Auder, Rose Salane, Tommy Malekoff, Valentina Vaccarella, Kye Christensen-Knowles, Nico Lou Carrasquillo, Antoine Clauss, Montana Thomas, and Jacob Ace. - From 7pm at Seventh Heaven — Wonder Press presents an evening of poetry and performances from: Mónica De La Torre, Jimin Seo, Cecily Chen, & Aiden Farrell. Karaoke all night after the reading | tickets here (free with 1 drink minimum) - From 7pm at The Monroe — Lit Men and Weird Fucks present WEIRD CUCKS: A NIGHT OF CHEATING STORIES. Featuring Nick Dove, Vincenzo Barney, Daniele Cheosky, Kylie Cheung, Mike Crumplar, Gaby Del Vae, Nicoe Fegan, Sammy Loren, and Zachary Lipez.

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