Weekend Of Fun
by Jessica Delfino
This past weekend was interesting. I had my first show at CBGB's in CB's Gallery and at 8:10 there was still no one there. All of a sudden at 8:15 everyone showed up and the show began. I even sold one cd. It was a great show, you shoulda been there, Cincinnati. I befriended two mohawk guys outside. That was neat.
After the show, my friend Christopher and I went to see a horrible movie called Runaway Judge or something like that. It was so retarded. It starred John Cusack who I love and have always loved and will always love, ever since Better Off Dead, he is my favorite guy to fantasize about making out with, next to Wil Wheaton, and perhaps Edward Furlong, or Ed Norton. Fuck-a-BULL! Hello? Anyone?
I had gone with the intention of seeing Kill Bill again, but it was sold out. I shoulda known it would be, 10 pm Friday night. I very much enjoyed seeing Kill Bill the first time. It was the last thing my ex-fiance and I did together before we broke up.
The next day, I had a message on my voicemail from my fiance. It hurt me to hear his voice and it made me feel sad. I listened to it twice, then saved it so that I can hear his voice again if I ever miss him, without having to call him, because I know if I talk to him, we will make up. If we don't talk for awhile, I might be able to bypass getting back together with him and we can just go straight to being friendsters.
Around 2, I went to the church flea market and bought a pair of Las Vegas-y looking 70s fighter jet pilot sunglasses for $3. I put them on and walked back toward my apartment. Around 72nd street I stumbled into an Indian Restaurant and had a delicious vegetarian lunch. I have gone back to being a vegetarian since my break up. I factor it in to an overall cleansing process, spring-like cleaning from eyes to vagine. (pronounced va-JINE) I went home and packed up a bunch of my ex's stuff into bags and almost cried, but then didn't. I haven't cried yet since we broke up and I'm not about to start now. Last Wednesday I was feeling very, very down and really wanted to drown my sorrows in alcohol, but I tried and I couldn't even do it. The beer tasted bland to me and it wasn't going down nicely when I swallowed it, it was burrowing up along my throat and bubbling and hissing at me, almost like for a second it was more friend than evil, as if it were trying to say, hey, babe. You're too good for me. I rushed home that night and went straight to sleep.
Around 5 on Saturday I went to the DUMBO Arts Festival. That was interesting. Everyone opens their places up and you can just go in and see people's work spaces and studios and even living spaces. It is very open minded of them and there is also live music and everything. I went to one studio in a huge old factory and there was a little bridge that went across the middle space of the building. In the middle of the bridge there were two chairs and a table with an ashtray. Above the chairs hung two large cinderblocks on wire. I promptly smacked myself in the head - HARD - with one of the cinderblocks, but I guess that was what the chairs just below were for. First, you smack yourself in the head with a huge brick, then you sit and have a cigarette and hope you don't die. I got some ice from a nice lady inside who warned me not to go to sleep and placed it on the egg sized bump that immediately rose to the surface of my skull. For the next hour or so I walked around with a bag of ice on my head and everyone asked me what happened? I told them I walked into a cinderblock and we all had a good laugh at my expense, over and over and over.
The parks are lovely by the water under and in between the two bridges in DUMBO. I had the pleasure of sauntering through just as the sun had set and the lights across the river were coming on. A tugboat chugged its way past and for just a moment I imagined it crashing into the side of the park pier where lovers sat together on benches, oblivious to everything around them. But it kept going.
I got on the F train and took it to the JMZ to go into Williamsburg to see a show at free103point9. It was a show of half noise bands and half dj's. The first band, The Believers had an incredibly hot yet inconspicuous looking young madame belting out discordant lyrics and dancing and then at the end, she saved us all a special surprise - a set of blood curdling screams. That band was the only one that was not a noise band, but then, technically, based on the discontent of the mingling sounds, they very well might be considered to be so. If you don't know, basically a noise band is a band that instead of making clear cut music with notes and choruses and songs and guitars and hot babes, it is a guy, or maybe a gal, or a guy and a gal, or perhaps three guys, and they make noise consisting generally of static, or seemingly non-specific strings of beeps and blips, random screeching sounds and electronic jolts of tone. I didn't know what a noise band was until last night and though the noise didn't necessarily speak to me, it was interesting to watch because most of the people were straight up weirdos with home-made contraptions who flicked and turned the knobs in a manner so haphazard and chaotic I wasn't sure if it more closely resembled the movements of a dj or those of a mad scientist.
2 am I left the show and went (almost) immediately soundly to sleep. So, that was my crazy exciting weekend. I hate writing blog entries like this that are 80 parts diary or journal entry and only 20 parts interesting or void of self-masturbatory references or true human emotion. Human emotion makes me feel....bored.