Fairytale of New York: NYC Trip; Day 1

I arrived at JFK airport around 11 P.M. New York central time. My plane from PDX left around 10 A.M. I had slept at my friend Mar Mar's house the night before since she lived right next to the Gateway Max Transit Center. We stayed up watching the Sex and the City Movie in giddy, albeit slightly gay, anticipation for my first every tip to the big apple. The plane out of PDX stopped in Phoenix and I had to transfer planes. It was 106 degrees in Phoenix. I spent most of both plane rides reading. "The Secret Diary of Laura Palmer," to quench my most recent David Lynch/*Peaker thirst. Anyway, once in New York I stepped out of the airport and into the humid June air NYC was currently playing host to. I looked to my right and noticed a line of taxis driving by what looked to be essentially a Taxi lane for recent arriving airline passengers. Looking back it would have been so easy for me to just turn to the right and hail one of those cabs, no matter how much assertiveness I may have lacked. But no. I got caught like a fly in a spider's web, an enemy Starfighter in Vader's tractor beam. An old Indian guy who looked harmless stood at the threshold of the parking garage, looked me dead in the eye and asked, "Taxi?" Well how could I not say yes? I mean this was an opportunity that fell into my lap and a Portland tourist completely on his own in this gigantic city couldn't have hoped for a better chance. Well, the Indian guy led me down into the parking garage when suddenly he got caught into this situation with another Indian guy who was much younger than the first taxi cab terrorist who hails young tourists, and an Indian family who I had recognized were on my flight. I cant remember, nor at the time do I think I even understood what they were talking about, but in any case the older Indian taxi cab man turned to the younger one and asked him to drive me. Well, the minute I saw the car we were getting into, no matter how nice and shiny the car may have looked, there was nothing on it that made it look like an actual taxi cab. Car service vehicle maybe, but even those cars have some form of transportation logo on the car doors. You see, it has never been in my nature to turn and run the other way, even on many occasions when I should have. I understand that such a trait could put me at risk. And yet at the same time, opens the door for many possible adventure stories.
Well, what happened was neither adventurous nor particularly risky. I get into the car and am instantly fearing for my life. Same basic thoughts begin to align in my head. What am I doing? This guy's going to kill me. I should tell him I changed my mind and just let me out here, which I think was an idea that popped into my head after he told me the flat rate would be $67 to Manhattan. And I think essentially what stopped me from getting out of the car at that moment was the idea that he might try to charge me $67 anyway just for driving me out of the airport. So based on that I did what any starving college student with a warped sense of cash stability would do, I stayed in the car. I also texted Serge to let him know I was on my way, and that I was in what I'm didn't think was a taxi. I figured texting Serge was important that way incase anything did go down he could tell the police where I was at the time of departure from JFK. Or something, ANYTHING, I figured would help in a case of extreme conslusion. Serge texted me back asking if I was given a flat rate. Sure, remember the $67 dollars? Of course I left out the part where he didn't give me the flat rate until I was in the car.
The drive, apart from me being unable to turn my head too far to look out the window in fear of the driver potentially putting a knife to my throat, was actually rather nice. The driver tried to make conversation like any polite, professional car service driver would. But while he had a hold on the former, the latter was not nor I do think ever will blossom into fruition. He pointed out some landmarks to me, where they shot the big climax scene for Men in Black, pointed out where all the college hipster kids hang out, and upon our descent into Manhattan we drove across(what I believe was)the Brooklyn Bridge where I got an amazing view of the city all lit up. You know on my whole trip it took me a day or so before it hit me that I was actually in New York for the first time in my entire life. But in that moment, looking at all the blazing red and gold skyscrapers, it was like everything else around me had melted away and there was only this. No Portland OR home, no financial stress about the money I was spending on this trip, not even the knife wielding taxi cab driver(*shakes head, no he wasn't actually wielding a knife, come on now)
Finally, we arrived in the area of Manhattan I was to reside in for the next six days. I was so relieved to finally be there and I texted Serge to come out right away in case my driver liked to cut his murders close to the breaking point. Well, not only did my polite tour guide of a taxicab cash rapist charge me the, "flat rate," of $67 dollars, but he added the toll and tip which he stated a total of, very calmly I might add, $97 dollars. I must have still been high from the bright and beautiful lights of the city to even make a face at the guy when I handed him the money. Plus I wanted to get out of there so once the money was in his hand the door slammed behind me almost instantaneously. Before I got out though the driver asked me if I wanted a receipt. I thought this was interesting seeing as how at this point I knew he was clearly NOT a licensed taxi/car service driver. And since there was no flat rate for the receipt, I said sure. Because I wanted to see this mockery for myself. The receipt was but a mere piece of paper that looked like it had been made at a local Kinko's.

I waited for Serge at the stop light. Finally he appeared, swathed in Navy Blue and jet black hair like he had stepped off the set of an Elvis Presley film. When the light turned green he came across the street where I was and we shook hands. Euphoria was beginning to set in, as well as the happiness of just being alive, once I stepped into the apartment building. Serge and Jason lived in a studio apartment with two cats, Leo and Dante. Serge made margaritas for he said that he always liked to have everyone's favorite drink made when they come to visit. Margaritas are indeed my favorite drink. However concerned over the fact that I hadn't eaten anything since Phoenix, I warned Serge and Jason that I would probably get plastered after one drink. So Serge gave me a slice of Pizza from an NYC pizza joint named, Iggy's, which he adorned with basil leaves from that plant that sat in their apartment window next to the A/C. Now this slice of pizza was to be my first and only slice of NY pizza on my trip, for I never ventured for any more pizza while I was there. Some may scoff at this, others even more so when they learn that I ate the pizza cold. But I like cold pizza, and Serge assured me that it was good cold or hot, and I trust my friend's opinions. Well the cold pizza went perfectly with the cold margarita(I now know Serge makes fantastic margaritas)on the otherwise hot NYC night.

In the city that never slept I eventually found sleep at around 3:30 am, New York Central time. After the three of us watched, "Don't Tell Mom The Babysitter's Dead," and started what turned into a Golden Girls marathon on OnDemand. Or maybe it was some kind of Comcast thing. Anyway my bed for the next several nights was to be a leather couch with a pillow and a sheet for it was too damn hot for an actual blanket. Serge warned me that the cat Dante liked to pee on people's stuff. My suitcase was safe but my backpack wasn't. So I wrapped my backpack up in the blanket in hopes that the blanket would be familiar territory and my back pack would stay safe. I did this for my whole stay, and luckily my backpack survived. The blanket however, took three massive hits.

For my return trip to Portland, after sharing my horrible $97 dollar cab ride experience, I was advised by a few people to take a car service to the airport. They said it would be cheaper than taking a cab, so naturally I phoned the car service number that was suggested to me the night before I left and scheduled a car to be outside at Noon the next day. Including toll the car service ride was $57 dollars. If a legitimate taxi cab would have been more I'm guessing at least somewhere between $10-20 dollars more, in retrospect I actually didn't get screwed that much on my $97 dollar ride. Screwed, definitely. But not horribly. 

The Silent Vinyl

Once I went over to a friend's house after school to hang out and listen to records. After some time passed he showed me some videos that him and his friends had made which turned out to be Anti-Gay video projects that involved my said friend acting like a flamboyant gay man, and the cameraman's brother acting as the gunman who killed him (in numerous videos) just before saying, "Die Gay Man." I was sixteen at the time, unaware of my own sexuality. Which I guess is the only reason I can think of as to why I was to afraid to speak up and say anything or even figure out how exactly it made me feel. The only thing I could say was, "Why did you film something like that?" My friend just sort of looked at me confused as if to say, "Why Not?" I look back on that moment as a reflection of my own life. Often times I've felt like that gay man in the video getting shot. His flamboyancy acting as a symbol of how I feel when I'm the target of gay jokes; considered to be a thing, a pariah, an abomination. But most of all I feel like him when I don't speak up for myself, and for others. When I remain as silent as I was on that very day. I never want to hold that silence again.

Tattoo Story: Elliott Smith's XO

So far, I have ten tattoo's. This is the story of my tenth.

On Valentine's Day this year, having recently just celebrated my 23rd Birthday, I used some of my Birthday money to pay for my next tattoo. Having at least twenty future tattoo's in mind, when making a decision on which one to get next it all more or less boils down to what I'm most in the mood for. At the time, I decided to get my long awaited brainchild idea of an Elliott Smith tattoo. The idea was born like this:

There is a book by Autumn de Wilde, filled with gorgeous pictures of Elliott Smith, the Figure 8 Wall in Sunset Boulevard, and hauntingly beautiful shots of Elliott and his surroundings. The front cover of the book is of a large red balloon obscuring Elliott Smith's entire face. At some point about three years ago, this cover inspired me to write a piece on Elliott(with a heavy extreme dose of ripoff inspiration based around Sonic Youth's song, "Tunic,")called, "Red Balloon."

I first discovered Elliott Smith's music a year before he died. It's difficult for me, as it so often is with all of my other favorite musicians, to explain why his music effected me the way it did, and has continued to do so since. What I've always come to love about his sound is that there was always this comfort in the sadness he presented in his voice. The harmony in his voice was but the mere hypnotic pull he had in each song, that once pulled in there was this landscape of sad beauty. Sometimes you couldn't tell when it was sad and when it was beautiful. But by the end of the album it had struck a chord that in my heart would always remember it's power.

No other album of Elliott Smith's made me feel this way more than, XO. Every song carried melodic chords, an angel range of vocal harmony, and every bit of comforting sadness that was mentioned earlier. I never knew there could be such a thing until I heard Elliott sing.

2012 marked the ten year anniversary since I discovered Elliott Smith. While this was unbeknownst to me at the time of my ink decision, my idea for my Elliott Smith tattoo would finally be fleshed out nonetheless. Based on the inspiration Autumn de Wilde gave me with the image of the Red Balloon, and XO being as important of an album for me today as it was ten years ago, I created an idea for an image of a red balloon whose string would spell XO. I decided it would be placed atop my chest just below the neck. Where it would constantly be in flight, above my heart, and within my voice.

NYC Soundtrack; The bag of Jewels

A little less than a month ago I traveled to New York City for the first time. It's a journey I know that I will be talking and writing about for many months to come. My first tale involves my first love turned one of my best friends, who in preparation for my NYC experience, made for me a playlist CD. Each song was labeled and intended for different parts of the city. It was sent to me prior to my departure and I made sure that my Ipod held each city label so as not to forget which song was intended for which area. While there was no time to actually listen to the certain songs while exploring these areas, I spent my night hours in my friend's apartment going over the New York areas I had been to that day and listening to their songs. At the time, and since I've returned, my favorite song is the one my friend had chosen for Union Square. The song was, "Oblivion," by Grimes. It's sound haltingly cheerful, and it's capability of stirring up my memories of Union Square has since been magical and successful. I would say that my attachment to this particular song might have had something to do with the fact that where I was residing in Manhattan at the time was right next to Union Square. It was the first area I visited on my adventure. It was where I walked through nearly every night I was there; whether it was going to McDonalds for cheap food, or walking back at 3 AM after seeing the NYC Rocky Horror cast. It was where the Andy Warhol Statue, an important monument to my NYC itinerary, resided next to one of his old apartments which is now a Petco. And where also I chose to meet Charlotte, a fellow Portland Rocky cast member who was in New York on a well paid modeling gig. I listen to, "Oblivion," Union Square's anthem as it is now considered to be in my world, quite often. Usually while I am walking, my steps constantly keeping the steady rhythm of the path that leads to Union Square.

As for the rest of the CD, the song chosen for Manhattan, "My Girls," by Animal Collective, was my second favorite. And this is because I was staying in the section of Manhattan that is next to Union Square, and instantly did Manhattan become the love of my New York existence. There were a handful of songs intended for places and monuments that were not visited. And because of this, I have yet to even listen to them. I'm saving them for when I return. Which Sun and Rain gods as my witnesses I will return sometime within the next two years. It doesn't feel right to have their first listen be born onto my ears in Portland. However the song that was intended for Coney Island, the one area of New York I regret not visiting the most, may be listened to prior to future departure, for the sake of my daydreams.

If you've made it this far, you've come to the treasure at the end of the skyscraper window. Here is the playlist, as it was intended so lovingly for me by such a wonderful friend. I look at each song as a magical jewel that when taken out and shone against the sun glimmers it's magical powers forth throughout all that surrounds me. The most powerful jewel being that which belongs to Union Square. For it's glimmering magic still beats poetically post the West Coast wringer.

~NYC Soundtrack~

NYC as a whole(Day) ~ Active Child ~ You Are All I See
Manhattan ~ Animal Collective ~ My Girls
Times Square ~ Alex Winston ~ Medicine
Broadway ~ Regina Spektor ~ Human of the Year
Hell's Kitchen ~ Quadron ~ Slippin
Grand Central Station ~ Julia Holter ~ Marienbad
Upper East Side ~ Beth Orton ~ Sweetest Decline
Museum of Natural History ~ MSMR ~ Hurricane
The Met ~ Dirty Projectors ~ Two Doves
Central Park ~ High Highs ~ Horses
Greenwich Village ~ Andreya Triana ~ Lost Where I Belong
Union Square ~ Grimes ~ Oblivion
Brooklyn ~ Beach House ~ Master of None
Coney Island ~ Tennis ~ Origins
Ellis Island ~ The Books ~ Cello Song
The Statue of Liberty ~ Actress ~ N.E.W.
NYC as a Whole(Night) ~ Hospitality ~ Friends of Friends

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5H-YlcMSbc

It has come to my attention that I must write everything down. All of it, from as far back as I can remember to every fragment I pick up along the way it must all be written. In an attempt to begin the process of reincarnating this blog I had to make a somewhat irrelevant but not quite unimportant post to get over this hurdle And this is it. No more Cereal Man, no more Gossip Girl rip off character studies; Just, me. And my getting used to using semicolons for the first time in my entire life.