06/21/25

    I regretted staying out as late as I had the night before. On my parents last night in the city, we had an incredible time at my usual omakase spot. Drinking sake and Sapporo and, at least on my part, enjoying the reactions of my mother trying three different types of Mackerel sushi after speaking at length of her distaste for the fish. Afterwards going to Commerce for another round of drinks. It was the perfect set up: we walked in and were greeted by the regular suspects and sat at the largest table within the bar which had been left unfilled despite the crowded Friday night room; as if they had been waiting for us. I introduced my parents to the friendlies that came up to our table and with great spirits we drank and laughed and I told my tales of Antigua. But I had other plans, so around 10 I said goodnight and goodbye and went home to change.

    Turns out making plans to have a crazy fun night never sets you up to have one. This morning I got up groggy, having drank too much, and feeling a tinge of regret for wasting my time and ruining a good mood with a lack luster end to my night.

    My mother had texted me, as I mustered up the energy to get out of bed, asking if I’ll make it down to their hotel in Chelsea to say goodbye. I had written them both a letter the week prior. Something I felt I needed to do as a milestone in my life was about to occur. I filled them with my heart and had been waiting for the right moment to gift them. I also had the thought that they probably had never received a handwritten letter and that they mustn’t have seen my handwriting since I was in school. I had no envelopes, who does these days, so I made makeshift ones with the same stationary I had used to write them. With the intention of delivering these to be read as they flew off, I put on a pair of Adidas shorts, an Aphex Twin t-shirt and some flip-flops and walked to the Citibike rack down the street.

    Riding through Central Park, I flew by runners and tourists on rent-a-bikes. Cyclists on touring bikes flew by me. The morning was as beautiful as it was hot. I began to sweat as I reached Time Square. Taking Back Sunday and Jane Remover were blaring in my headphones. I braced myself coming down 7th Ave, the streets get gnarly around 38th street. I wondered whether there was a bike dock near the hotel as I came close to 25th street. I discovered it wasn’t necessary when I spotted mom and dad exiting the coffee shop on the corner. They were smiling. It made me smile. I flicked the bell on the bike furiously and yelled to them. Only did they notice me when I got close to the sidewalk. I felt tears. I held them back. I handed them my letters and gave hugs and thanked them for coming to see me and wished them safe travels. As quickly as I arrived I rode away with a flimsy excuse as to why I couldn’t stay longer or come up to their room before they checked out. 

    It wasn’t until I was in the middle of the park again, that Wild Horses began playing and tears started falling down my face. It had been awhile since I last cried. I let them fall for the duration of the song, streaking across my face from the force of the wind. Siri read out loud a text from my mother. I felt sick at the thought of Siri reading my mother’s heartfelt texts to me. Technology makes me sick. Will I remember Siri’s voice more than my mother's?

11:37 am

    I ran a punishing three miles in the heat. Down the west side of the park and back up until I couldn’t anymore. B texted asking if I wanted to sunbathe on her roof. My body still reeling from the sunburn I got over the weekend at the lake said no thank you but I didn’t and planned to meet up around 1. At home I rinsed and put on an outfit that could be easily pulled off, with my bikini on underneath. Biking once again, back down to Chelsea.

1:51 pm

    Squeezed in the kitchen B composed paper plates with crackers and cheese while A showed me the protein powder flavors I could enjoy after our tan session. I questioned why we were going to have protein shakes after tanning. He ignored the question and joked about the lame brand that made the parachute pants he was wearing, saying, he saw an old man at a gym in Vermont wearing them and just had to buy them. I juggled a bottle of water, a towel, and a Coke Zero as we made our way up to the roof.

    M and I made plans earlier in the day to meet for a drink at Commerce around six. I left B and A after two or so hours with the loose idea of seeing each other again later that night. I headed back home to shower and inspect my tan.

5:55 pm

    My apartment was a complete mess. Clothes strewn over every chair. Multiple pairs of my shoes scattered as if I had come home each day and flung them off my feet blindly into the room. On the kitchen counter there were a variety of things I had used throughout the week and didn’t put back. Trying to get ready, every outfit I put on disgusted me. I wanted to wear shorts but I hated my legs. Every top either showed off too much of my stomach or was long sleeved. I stood in front of the mirror for too long looking at my arms and the weird tan lines on my back.

    I settled on a black knit halter top and a pair of black Issey Miyake wool pants that were a bit more cropped then I would have liked. I didn’t do my hair, letting the humidity style it however it wanted. I sent a message to M and told her sorry I’m running late, I’m having a crisis. She said it’s fine, she’s just walking around, to take my time.

    I arrived before her. J greeted me at the door, long time no see he said. I sat at the same table I was at the night before. E came up and said hello asking what I was up to today and pouring me some water. I placed my head in my hands, I felt outside of myself. Maybe I’ve had too much sun. When M walked up she told me that she didn’t recognize me. She ordered a coke with a lemon and I ordered a vodka soda–two limes. We ordered the Cobb salad from the specials board. When it arrived I started mixing it up but M said I was just pushing it around. She took the reins.

    I felt better after two drinks. We had been going back and forth with our troubles. I tried to describe the indescribable feeling that had affected me since the morning. She told me about her day. I complained about work. We tried to solve her relationship troubles. Finishing the salad and refusing another round we paid our bill and walked to the W 4th station together before saying goodbye.

    I got a rare text from S whom I had been seeing more of lately but not nearly enough of to get a text inviting me to hang out. He said him and L, whose name I didn’t recognize, were at Time Again and to come grab a drink. I agreed. Never been, sounds fun. I texted B to see if she wanted to tighten up our loose plans. We looped in E. Separately I invited R since we had been texting on and off all day talking about Prada versus Margiela sneakers and I could tell he must have been bored.

    Walking up I recognized the place as a spot I had gotten disastrously drunk at with H and J a few years ago, though I could have sworn they served sushi. I spotted S with the aforementioned L sitting at the front of the establishment in the midst of a crowd of LES who’s who all sitting on little red plastic stools. A hug for S and for L a hello, how are you, you must’ve met H at that party we were at together but I don’t think we’ve met, nice to meet you. And for me a “we’re at war now”...

    I looked at the news on my phone as I stood at the bar. Yes, war. At least it seemed that way. The bartender made the two margaritas and the vodka soda I ordered as I stood there dissociating. Coming back to, I reminded him I asked for two limes. Outside, I immediately spilled one margarita on the table. Across the street, a group of unbothered youngins started gathering on a large set of stairs leading to a small park where a trash can fire seemed to be appearing. We smoked cigarettes at the table joking pessimistically about things I've genuinely feared my entire life. I spotted a few people I knew within the crowded sidewalk seating, people I had forgotten about until right then. B joined and R joined and we saw E ride by on a Citibike presumably looking for parking. We got another round of drinks. The gathering across the street grew and so did the trashcan fire. We raised our glasses and cheered to a long life.

1 am

    We all go went our separate ways with R and I getting on bikes. We rode a little ways and stopped just outside of City Hall where a few hotdog carts with bright flood lights were stationed. I wanted a corndog. I’ve had too much to drink to restrain myself. We both got corndogs, laughed about it, ate them quickly, and started making our way to the West Side Highway. R was riding without hands on the handlebars. I’d always wanted to be able to do that. He explained how simply by saying you just do it. I felt the balance of the bike between my legs and within my abdominals. I let go of the handlebars. I just did it. We rode together through the darkened bike paths until I sped on ahead and we parted. I could feel that I was very drunk but I rode on. Under the overpass, the lights of the lampposts flashed by as I rode faster and faster. The steady stream of air watered my eyes and blured my vision.

    I rode through the empty roadways of Central Park that just this morning had been congested with cyclist groups and runners but now it was only me, riding with no hands.

Playlist

Flash in the Pan - Jane Remover

Bike Scene - Taking Back Sunday

The Lighthouse - Interpol

Hikqri To Kage - Polaris

War & Peace - Ryuichi Sakamoto