10-5 - 10-8 · Oct 9, 12:50 PM

Preface: I took all my notebooks, photos, and journals, threw them in a box out of sight and I’m experimenting with writing down my days on the computer. I used to have different journals and different pens I’d use depending on when, where, and under what circumstances I was writing. I’ll try this for a month and see how it goes. And don’t worry, I’ll spare you some of the details and change some of the names.

Friday
I had a weird week, keeping a steady schedule of long naps after work then staying out all night. On Friday I took a nap from 6:30 to 9:30 pm. I woke up dizzy and hungry, ate some carrots and a kiwi and took a walk around my neighborhood. My legs took me to the Spotted Pig. Kristen served up a Guinness and Matthew was taking care of the floor. I was a bit down but Matt didn’t let that last too long. I had a coffee with him at Amy’s Bread about 12 hours before that; we got to continue our conversation. I went outside to smoke a Black and Mild, some kids asked me for a light. I light their cigarettes and told them to check out this website.
I got a text from Jess that she was at Julep. I stopped at the corner of Broadway and Houston on the way where Jimmy was sipping Coronas. We met up with Dardy and hung out at The Room.
Dardy gave me some money to buy drinks and as I was ordering from Adam, this kid walks up and starts making fun of Jimmy and Dardy. I hear Jimmy call the kid Gallagher and ask him when he’s going to start smashing watermelons. He was talking to Johnny Basedow, and when I turned around I gave him a big hug. All smiles now.
I split walk to Julep and hang out with Jess and her friend. Jess is in town from Chicago on a contract with Elite. She ran around talking to people; I watched the screen as two guys played T&C Surf Designs. Meredith bartends downstairs at Julep; she’s worth the trip there. And I talked to Kim, a musician from S.F. who lives here now. Mickey came through and we all went to 200 Orchard.
Strike one-they played and extended version of “The Percolator.”
Strike two-a girl asks the girls I was with, “Are you leading a meaningful life.” She kept asking questions like that, that you don’t ask at a bar at 2 am. Then she asks me if I believe in time. Not an appropriate question either but I told her that it’s irrelevant whether or not I believe in time. Time is simply a means by which we measure things.
Strike three-I’d have to knit pick for #3 but it was time to go to Annex.
Annex was cool, sipped a beer in the basement and I took a few photos of people. Shot this one of Mickey.

I’ve got my mind on casting for the movie that my brother is writing. We optioned the rights to Michael Scott’s “Lords of Lawndale: My Life as a Chicago White Gang Member.” Last week we renewed the option and the project is fresh again. I’m on the look out for hillbillies. Mickey certainly isn’t a hillbilly but we could work on it. I’m going to have to go back to Chicago.

Saturday

I woke up tired but had a dentist appointment. Made it up to 53rd and Madison, 39th floor. The dental hygienist tells me that I need x-rays. I told her I don’t want them unless my insurance pays 100% of the cost. She checks and insurance will only pay 60% so I decline them. She brings the dentist in and he tries to convince me I need the x-rays but stops as soon as I tell him he pretty much ruined my life by charging me over $1,000 dollars for a root canal and a crown. I tell him that’s just plain greedy and he agrees to give me the x-rays for free. I just want my cleaning and toothbrush.
I walk the 30 blocks to the MET because it’s too nice out to be on the subway. I talk to Jimmy. We didn’t get to talk much last night and he has just returned from a two week stay in Columbia.
I can’t get over how people look on the Upper East Side. I need to kick it up here because I liked every girl I saw. I even liked every 40 year old woman with a tight face. I was looking so broke though, super stained white jeans, a Young Philosopher sweatshirt with no shirt underneath, gold fronts and plastic sunglasses. I tried to go into the MET but I had a duffel bag with me and couldn’t get in. I sat in the park instead and read. When I took my sweatshirt off I smelled b.o. and felt like someone was sitting next to me. Go read “The Beauty Myth,” by Naomi Wolf. Gala, who I just interviewed recommended it to me. I drank some Figi and read,

“The debate continues about whether classic pornography makes men violent toward women. But beauty pornography is clearly making women violent toward ourselves. The evidence surrounds us. Here, a surgeon stretches the slit skin of the breast. There, a surgeon presses with all his weight on a woman’s chest to break up lumps of silicone with his bare hands. There is the walking corpse. There is the woman vomiting blood.”

Two more things and then I’ll let the day go…watching “Hip Hop vs. America,” Nelly gets called out and he says, “When did music become the lifeline of black people? It’s education that ain’t right.” He and Master P were the best on the show. Al Sharpton, he’s holding black people back like Pope John Paul held back intellectual thought in the church. And last one, DL Hugley said, on that Chelsea show on E!, “If Michael Jackson was a priest, instead of a musician he’d never have gone to trial, he just would have been reassigned to a new record label.”

And, I watched “Harlem Nights,” and realized that Ryan, the back waiter at Spotted Pig, has the same smile as Eddie Murphy.

Sunday

Went to see “This is England.” Pretty awesome movie. Check it out but be prepared if the world in the movie isn’t totally foreign to you. The movie will hit you hard. I cried and then had to go for a run run, not just a jog over the bridge or something. I had to run that world out of me.

Monday

Listening to “Angel of the Morning,” by the songwriter himself, Chip Taylor. There’s a genuine wanting in his voice, a wanting among equals.

I ate lunch today at Café Habana with Sean and Dan, always good to spend time with them. Dan introduced me to the Omaha crew. He and I went to USF together. We hadn’t kept in touch but Dave ran into Dan on Wall Street one day, told him I was moving to NYC and Dan had an opening in the loft on Greenwich St. Our waitress at Habana was slammin’, Maayan. Dan had the Diablo chicken sandwich, Sean had the Cuban, I had something with cheese and advocado. I didn’t care what I ate. Afterwards we walked through Chinatown, smelled the smells, talked shit, and parted ways.

I finished transcribing a great interview with Lyle Owerko. He shot the cover of the 9/11 special edition of Time. I didn’t know that until after the interview. We talked about the Samburu who he lived with and shot portraits of in Kenya. Then I organized all my junk, threw more photos and half written stories in a box and put it out of sight. Made a list and I’m moving on.
I went to Crunch on Lafayette, ran, looked at people, sat in the sauna and ate an apple outside. I ran into Sarah Nevada who I went to USF with. She lives downtown somewhere and works for the guy’s production company who made Super Size Me. Probably a cool job. I gave to turn off the music, Scarface “Born Killer,” is getting me too hyped. Gonna read some more of “The Beauty Myth.”

Today’s lesson:

“Consumer culture is best supported by markets made up of sexual clones, men who want objects and women who want to be objects, and the object desired ever-changing, disposable, and dictated by the market. The beautiful object of consumer pornography has a built-in obsolescence, to ensure that as few men as possible will form a bond with one woman for years or for a lifetime, and to ensure that women’s dissatisfaction with themselves will grow rather than diminish over time. Emotionally unstable relationships, high divorce rates, and a large population cast out into the sexual marketplace are good for business in a consumer economy. Beauty pornography is intent on making modern sex brutal and boring and only as deep as a mirror’s mercury, anti-erotic for both men and women.”

Went to Beatrice from about 1 am to 4. Pretty fun. It’s a nice feeling once you’re there. A woman unbuttoned my shirt and tore my undershirt. She told me she was giving me a makeover. I asked for her credentials and she told me she is a stylist for Italian Vogue. They played a Fugazi song and I skateboarded home. Check out the Marc Jacobs store window at Bleeker and 11th. You ready for Halloween?

— Albin

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