The heat from the NY sun is making my manjuices boil. I'm stuck on the 12th floor of 13thand 5th, homeless and hungry. Today I had to move out of Brooklyn, as Nicole's sister is coming into town. Now I'm waiting for my childhood friend Christopher to finish his goddamn corporate job so I can go crash at his for the weekend. Looking for a flat, preferably back in Brooklyn, too many people here in the City. Plus I also recently met Mr. Boutique, a self proclaimed 'hustler' who wanted to sell me all kinds of shit from his plastic bags. He said he could find anything, and when I inquired about a certain medicinal plant off he scooted, and amazingly re-appeared 10 minutes later with the goods. I bought him a beer and for the next two hours we chatted, mostly about how much booty he got and how much the honeybabies love his man sword. He could also rap, and had a young sidekick called Lil Wow. I feel like now I only have to be shot at, or shoot someone, to fullfill my NY experience.
ALso checked out my mate Andy's new space, where he is gonna have a club and gallery, which will be launched for his birthday next week. Andy runs a wicked magazine called chief mag. Check it here:

http://www.chiefmag.com

He's gonna do a big bash with a bunch of bands, one of which are friends and maniacs Ninjasonik:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qs6u3at4jTw

I'm also going to go on a roadtrip with him to the Bonaroo festival, in Tenesse, might stop of at Graceland for one of them great peanut butter, jam, and banana fried sandwiches the King of rockandroll used to love so much.

And one for Saint Boss

One for Colorski

Day 2 was fabtastic. I got up slightly hungover from the previous nights tequila. Monday was memorial day, so everyone is on holiday. People hang on the stoops and the sun shines like a motherlover. My head hurts from last nights tequila, but a shower and an aspirin later I'm ready to go. Nicole and I pack a blanket, sketchbook and polaroid and head to Prospect park. Brooklyn is lovely, and everyone seems to be in a good mood. Prospect park is green as a very green thing, and full of hot people in bikinis, playing with Frisbees, flying kites (the toys, not the Jews), and basking in the sun. We find a nice spot and settle down for a while. After an hour or two we get hungry and walk to a nearby grocery store to get something to munch on. On the way we stop by a few stoop sales, where people sell their unwanted goods at wicked prices. I purchase Edward Gorey's 'Amphigorey' for just a buck. The Beer and semen stains on it to not faze me at all.  We go back to the house to rest a bit and wait for her boyfriend Brett to come. He has a lot of different instruments and wears a turban.

Later on we get a call from my friend Andy Smith, who's having dinner at a nearby pizza place. Andy has some of the best and most fucked up stories I've ever heard, so a night with him always turns into brilliant chaos. We eat, drink and laugh as he tells me about the new club and gallery he's opening next week. We plan a road trip to Tenesse, where we will drink ourselves into oblivion and visit Graceland.  After the restaurant we go drink more tequilas and smoke some of the ridiculous medical weed he's gotten hold of. The night ends in twists and turns on the way home.

Today I woke up surprisingly fresh. I left with Nicole and got the train into Manhattan. We took the train that goes up the manhattan bridge, and seeing all those phallic buildings looming up makes my mouth open like a retarded fish.  I finally get to my stop and after a bit of walking get to the University. Today we have a presentation for a few hours, then lunch break and after that 3 more hours of class. Our teacher is down to earth, and not a pompous cunt, which is nice. There are 9 chicks and two guys in the glass, which makes my tight jeans tighter. Especially the little Uruguaian lass with the popeye t-shirt.  After class I inquire about the student residence at the housing departmnet. 1,800$ for a month! That's like a million blowjobs, or eight kilos of crack, or a truckfull of comic books! Pornographic comic books! Fuck that, I can probably sublet an apartment in Brooklyn for half that. Go Craig's List! On my way back from Manhattan I get lost as fuck, cause the subway system here is more complicated than an advance Astrophysics degree. But after a bit of asking around I finally arrive at Atlantic Ave., get a hot dog from a stand and walk home looking at the ladies hot hot skimpy pants. 

Arrival

After ten hours, one Whiskola, two screaming kids, and a very shit movie I finally got to the city that never sleeps. My big fear of being retained for ten hours and have a portly officer shove his fist up my puckering asshole fortunately didn't materialise. I picked my suitcase off the conveyor belt and headed towards the Airtrain which would take me to the Subway. On the platform I met a Hare Krishna guy, who I asked for directions. In normal circumstances I would have never gotten close to a Hippy of such astounding proportions, but he was the only soul on the platform, and jet lag was blurring my punk rules. He was actually quite nice, and for the hour long journey towards Manhattan we had a good conversation about life, traveling and decadent pasts. He tried to convince me life was about love, I tried to convince him that only hate is constant. This hippy encounter led me to reconsider my view on these people, and I now believe that perhaps you shouldn't ALWAYS set fire to a hippy when you see one, maybe just punch them real hard in the gut. We parted ways at Erstrand station, where I had to change trains onto the C line. I arrived at Clinton/Washington station and hauled my luggage up the stairs. I exited and found myself in the middle of a Spike Lee film. The cars here are fucking huge, and they are usually driven by ex members of the G-Unit. I felt a bit out of place until I saw a middle aged white guy in a Cabriolet. He pulled up next to me and beeped his horn, and at that point I realised he thought I was a male prostitute. I told him to fuck off, flipped him off and hastily made my way across the street. Low buildings ran up and down the street and I tried to make sense of the directions I'd been given by my friend Nicole. I realised I was getting rather lost so I looked around to ask someone for direction. Fortunately there was someone coming my way, I gave him a friendly nod and walked towards him. It was only when I was a couple of metres away that my shit eyesight engaged and I realised he was a crack head. "You look like you're lost boy"said he,"erbbb....yep so it seems" said I. "You don't want to get lost around here dude" was his next line, which made me start shitting a brick, considering I had all my Benjamins in cash money, my laptop, and my frail but oh so sexy body to offer. Nonetheless all my preconceptions were thankfully shattered when he gave me the directions I desired and smiled at me with a mouthful of three brown teeth.

370 Grand Ave. finally came up, I walked up the stoop (stairs that head up to the main door) and rang the bell. Nicole came down and we gave each other a big hug. I haven't seen her in a couple of years, and was well happy to hear her Southern Belle accent again. After a bit of Idle chat we headed off into the warm Brooklyn night to get a beer and something to eat. It feels weird here, I've seen this scenery so  many times in films that it feels like I've already been here. I half expect to see Al Pacino round the corner, a barrage of bullets to start flying past me, or fucking Godzilla to take a dump on me. But alas no, all I see is nice people sitting on stoops listening to music and a bunch of hot looking hipsters parading down the street, happy that the summer warmth has arrived.

We get a Mojito at a Cuban stand and chat and smoke cigarettes. People don't smoke much here. We end the night by drinking huge tequila chasers at a small shady bar, and head back to Nicole's for some rest. Monday is memorial day, and no one has to work, so we'll head into Prospect Park and have a picnic. More shenanigans to come...

Love an, all