Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York
I took the Facebook IQ challenge last night. It said that I was officially brilliant - IQ well over 140. And in case you're doubting the results, I also took the 'What UFC fighter would you be?' quiz, and the thing said that I would fight like Anderson "The Spider" Silva, which is exactly what I thought. How can you argue those results? You can't. They're air tight.
So, you're probably wondering what happens in a day in the life, and what goes through the mind, of somebody brilliant. Here goes. A day in the life of somebody that Facebook says is brilliant. A behind the scenes look at the monkeys behind the wheels of thought. It's a cornucopia of banality and neurosis.
Alarm goes off, figure I can get some more sleep. Hit snooze. After about four snoozes realize that I won't be able to drop rest of money in Marie's bank account for rent for June (which I didn't pay as I abandoned her for Utah), on my way to work like I told her I'd do (solidifying the fact that we are in fact really going to try to work things out - I am invested in this thing, literally, kind of thing) if I don't get up. Get up. Put new work pants on that I got the other day, two for $50 - not bad as far as pants are priced in this city - as I needed pants. Curse pants for being to big. Hate that I spent $50 on pants that are too big. Think about taking them back. Fish receipt out of trash, then remember other pair that I wore to work the day before in the mud in the Hamptons. Then remember trying on size smaller at store and having to suck in waist. Fuck it. Put receipt back in trash.
Look in mirror, think I look good but thin. And think about the 20 to 25lbs I've lost since coming to New York five months ago. Notice hair is getting longer. Think about getting on steroids to bulk up and get ripped. Then think about hair falling out due to steroids.
Contemplate hair falling out as I take vitamins and drink orange juice. On way out the building still thinking of hair falling out. Thought of hair falling out takes on life of its own. Decide to go to pharmacy on way home and buy Rogaine and condoms (in case Marie drives home from Upstate yoga retreat). Stop at little coffee shop down the street as opposed to bigger coffee shop across the street even though last two times coffee at smaller coffee place has tasted watered down. Have aversion to bigger coffee shop for being so trendy. No croissants at smaller, cuter, quainter, coffee shop, and coffee tastes watered down. Damn. Still tip girl a dollar which raises cost of watered down coffee to three dollars. Am mad at myself for spending three dollars on coffee, but remember when I worked in coffee shop and would think about jumping over counter to bash people's skulls in who didn't tip me. Feel bad when I don't tip for being broke, not tipping. Figure that it's better to feel bad doing something selfless rather than self serving, like saving money, even though saving money could mean that you value yourself and your future. Psychological implications of tipping threaten to overwhelm me at an early stage of the day as I hurriedly walk towards the L train stop. Fuck it. Thoughts go back to hair falling out and getting Rogaine and condoms on way home from work at Rite Aide or Duane Reade. Convinced that Rite Aide and Duane Reade are one in the same, like the Republican and Democratic party. The illusion of choice. Decide hair is strong and healthy and that I am neurotic.
Didn't get on first train that came as it was so packed. Figured another train would be right on it's tail, as that often seems to be the case when one train is overcrowded. Have more time than I thought. Proud of myself for getting ready so quickly. Coffee is okay. Train does not come on others tail as hoped. Pissed about that, but ultimately happy for myself as I still have time to get off train prematurely in Union Square to go to my bank to get money to take to Marie's bank to drop into her account. At Union Square crossing the street am upset by thought that I have already been surcharged at ATMs getting money out four times in the last week or so totaling $12, and that I'll be damned if that is going to happen to me again any time soon, as $12 is like four cups of fucking coffee, or a lunch at a little deli. Get my money out of bank and walk to Marie's bank on the next block. Drop the money in her account. Fill good about myself. Want to call Marie to tell her, but it's early and suspect that she's probably still sleeping.
Walk the ten or so more blocks to work.
Feel good about getting exercise.
No one is there when I arrive to work. Text friend who works there to see where she is. No response. Go inside. No one there. Go back outside and sit on stairs.
Think of calling Marie again. Decide not to as I don't want to seem needy or dependent. Don't want to be annoying. Think that it may be better to distance or detach myself from her so as to not always "be there", as I don't want her to see me as clingy.
Call friend girl from office. Wake her up. She tells me to go and get coffee, that she's running late and will be there in a bit. Go get coffee and croissant. Don't tip. Feel bad for not tipping young girl behind counter as her tip jar is empty.
Finish coffee and croissant and decide to call Marie. No answer. Decide to fuck trying to put on a front with Marie. Fuck it. I am who I am. I am loving, I decide, not clingy or dependent, and if a girl doesn't like that, fuck her.
Decide I want an Iphone.
Call Marie again half hour later. No response.
Boss comes out of building. Saw him go in earlier but didn't recognize him without hat on. He's on his way to warehouse where I'm working for the day. Works out fine.
At warehouse I see all of Marie's friends who are working with Marie's company out of same warehouse. They are surprised to see me and look at me curiously as I don't think they knew I came back from Utah. Am glad not to be working with them, although I realize I do like the adrenaline rush of some of the events. Don't like working with Marie. Realize how much I need my own life. Try to behave myself in front of her friends. Feel a bit like a dog who has pissed on the rug.
See artist friend of hers who said he wanted to film us having sex. Think about it. Think I might could do it. Would probably come with great unforeseen cost. Think I would do it if he were famous. Think I'm a whore.
Think I will wash two pairs of pants in super hot water to shrink the shit out of them. I tell people at work. No one cares. I feel triumphant by my thought and underwhelmed by their lack of response.
Go through the motions.
Not really there, but working.
Guy I'm working with gets pissy with me as I believe that he thinks I'm moving slowly. Think how often in New York busyness is confused with productivity. Think that people are stupid fucking sheep. Decide not to act busier. Do job. Guy says something smart and something in me awakens. I will spar back. Like Anderson "The Spider" Sylva I will feel my opponent out, taking my time, then strike with missile like accuracy. Watch. Wait. Okay. Bitch. I let him know that I'm awake. Back off. He laughs. I prod again. I smile. I'm awake. Back the fuck off. Sometimes people just want to know that you've got a backbone, or they walk all over you.
Think about Marie getting upset with me for responding to guy banging on the van one night as she backed up, and about fight we got into one night crossing the bridge when bicyclist yelled at us to get the fuck out of the way as we kissed. We were the fuck out of the way. He was being a dick, and I told him so. Told him to go and fuck himself. Marie was livid. Told me that I will never talk to people like that around her. Then I was livid. Told her I'd talk to dickheads how I wanted. She was unimpressed. Think about how she hates to be told what to do or not to do, but is happy to tell me. Think about New York men that I see looking meek and meager following around a plow of a woman. Feel like a proper New York male is supposed to be neutered. Fuck that. Think about something I read the other day in New York magazine. Article asked well known New Yorkers how you knew if you're a true New Yorker. Think of Dennis Leary's response: If the Pope mobile cut you off in traffic you'd give him the bird and tell him to go fuck himself. Think of Marie getting upset with me when I tell people to fuck off and honk when I drive. Think I'm a real New Yorker and she can fuck off.
Leave work with nice boss and friend in bosses nice BMW. Laugh in Holland Tunnel telling stories about company Marie works for. Like my new boss.
Get dropped off on Canal St. Like Canal St. - it's a fucked up mish mosh of races, tourists and goods. Like looking at the watches and colognes they sell. Decide I'm gonna go shopping down there when I get paid and get a watch and some cologne.
Think of calling Marie, but don't. Don't want her to feel confined by me. Decide to wait til I get home to call her. Look for pharmacy on way home. Can't find a Rite Aide or Duane Reade. Find stop on Canal for JMZ that take me across bridge by apartment. Didn't know there was a stop on Canal. Decide not to look for pharmacy anymore and take train, as hair is fine and Marie won't be home anyway. Turns out JMZ doesn't stop on Canal. Underground maze of tunnels leads blocks away for JMZ stop. Fine. I'm tired anyway. Not too tired that my legs ache standing up riding the train home though.
Go to local pharmacy when I get off train. They don't have Rogaine. Meal replacement powder that I want to gain some weight back with is too expensive. Can't find condoms that I want. Don't buy anything. Figure my hair will stay for a while. Remember I have hair tonic at home, eases worry. Think I should try to be a model or an actor so that I can obsess about my appearance and get paid. Decide to look at career path of model turned actor that people sometimes say I remind them of.
Walking towards home think of getting some beer or wine. Think of calling Marie. Don't want to seem needy. Decide to wait til I get home to call. Decide I'm not drinking until I see Marie again. Not sure why. Maybe it seems nicer with her, intimate with her. Feels lonesome drinking alone. Think I'm on health kick. Decide to go to gym when I get home. Decide not drinking is way to show Marie support in her slowing her drinking.
Decide I don't really want to call Marie.
Get home. Pissed Netflix didn't come.
Check email. Watch video that friend sent of animals getting drunk in Africa off of fermented fruit. Drunken animals are very funny. Makes me laugh. Reminds me of me and my friends.
Decide I want to call Marie. Miss her. Call. Conversation seems far away. So does she. Sad. Miss her. Decide it's okay.
Go to work out. Drop off laundry on way. Laundry proprietors speak Spanish with me and smile as they know I'm trying. I like that.
Go to Community Center to work out for first time around the corner. Run halfway. Gym is small and filled with big gym rats of men. I look thinner in mirror than I remember myself. Gym crowded and shitty. Start small workout in corner. Hear workout gorillas talking about Shaolin kung-fu, which I'd much rather be doing. Muscle bound gorillas are talking about Shaolins who can spin a spear with their feet then kick it at someone. Think that I'd much rather be able to spin a spear around with my feet and kick it at someone's head than lift a million pounds.
Get sports supplement and nutritional drink on way home.
Think about getting a beer.
Decide not to.
Hear my name as I cross street. Sebastian and Bethany and their daughter Valentina are Marie's long time friends. I like them. Marie is at their house Upstate cooking for yoga retreat. I like Sebastian. He smiles and tells me he hears I went to Texas. I tell him Utah. Bethany is nice and gracious but somehow always slightly distant. Valentina is adorable. Valentina gives me a kiss. Makes me feel good.
Sister calls when I get home. Niece gets on phone and tells me that she loves me. Feels nice. Sister asks about me and Marie. Tell her we're trying to make it work, talking it slow. Sister tells me to let her show me, if she loves me, to let her prove it. She tells me that I've taken care of enough women. She tells me that I've proved that I'm a good guy, that I have nothing to prove anymore, and to take care of myself. Think to myself that Marie has tried to take care of me, and that was nice.
Hang up phone and remember Buddhist quote that girl read at the end of yoga class the other day, how it was impossible to hurt someone if you loved yourself enough. and I think how that applies to me and Marie.