Accidentally naked, and other delights.

The day started out innocently enough. I woke up at the crack of noon, and went to the store to purchase Select Onehorse hooveseggsa bong to cook breakfast for my friends Damian, Nif, and Ned, who I am staying with in Brooklyn. A queue was forming at the local mart, whereupon I waited in line with aforementioned object. The man in front of me made note that he was "not doin' shit til monday!" as he purchased a half a bakers dozen minus one half tall boys of King Cobra. Finally, I was able to prostrate myself in front of the cashier and, after haggling for 5 hours, completed the deal.

Returning triumphantly with my purchase, I made breakfast with my captors. After a leisurely munch, we dressed ourselfs (as previously we had been naked) so as to appear at the Select OneSteuben Paradeself flagellation coursea bong, which was a "celebration of 51 years of German American friendship."

The four of us made forward momentum on our bikes, in light of this goal, through the madness that is Manhattan. Nif had once been Select Onea bike messengeran receptionista bong in New York, and thus our trip was extremely aggressive. As Damian puts it, biking in Manhattan is akin to river rafting--you experience rapids as cars come rushing past you, then when the stream of traffic is cut off by a red light, the salubrious calm. The ride was one moment manic, hectic, and altogether batshit insane, the next moment quiet, airy, empty, and idyllic. Three seconds after crossing the Manhattan bridge, we arrived at Central Park.

We made our way to the party and weren't stoked to find out that we had to wait in line and pay $10 to get in. We were stoked when we found out that we could walk ten feet to the right of the line and walk in for free. Once inside the Stueben Parade, we weren't gruntled to find that beer was really expensive. We soon became gruntle-muffins whence we discovered that no one finished their pitchers, sauerkraut or bratwurst, and rather left them out for us to consumate. Unenthused by a brass bland playing "no woman no cry," we were nonetheless deriving pleasure when they covered "basketcase" by Green Day. Wunderbar!

When finally at long last we all of us had had our own full fill, we left to check out a Doug Aitken art show that Nif's friend helped put together. Here, they were giving the beer away! It was a video installation of different animals (including Albino Peacocks, buffalo, and bearcats) hanging out in motel rooms. Pretty Select Onehecka neatoholy mountain esquea bong.

After the gallery, Damian and made route to an xbxrx show. On the way we attempted entry into a swanky event which required having a name on the list. As it turned out, Jordan Stern (plus one) was not on the list, and neither was guard dog, which I was donning. Anyhoo, a few months ago we finally got to the show, which turned out to be not an xbxrx show, but a QxBxRx Party! (Queers, Beers and Rears, the x's being periods). Nonetheless, some good raucus punk bands were playing, and in good form the leg of my glass got snapped in the first few minutes (fear not, they will be fixed, in the meantime, my prescription face shield should suffice.)

As the show got out, Damian met a pal of his, and she informed us of a basement party in Brooklyn that sounded promising. Damian found some meatball sandwiches, but we opted not to take them (foreshadowing here). We arrived at the party, walked into a room covered with flourescent paint and filled with half, almost, and definetely naked young men. We passed the clothing check station, the body painting station, and the bathroom line to get some free beer. We sought out the back room, where people seemed to be mingling and talking in small circles, as they would at any party. Damian I mingled amongst the minglers, engaging in talk and musing on the arts, letters, and politics of the day, as we would at any party. Besides to the two middle aged men Select Onegraphically fuckingdoing it packing fudge
on the chair next to us, it was pretty predictable and whatever. Damian got his nipples painted flourescent pink (surprise for Nif) we retired for the evening.

A typical day in New York.