a few of my favorite things

blasting my song
while dancing home
after work on a Friday.
sinking into an ice bath
when the a/c’s broken on
a scorching summer afternoon.
cocooned together,
slowly drifting to sleep
in your arms every night.

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the Cocktail No. 6 at Stanton Social

Cocktail No. 6 at Stanton Social. Lower East Side. Manhattan, New York.  06.06.14.

Cocktail No. 6 at Stanton Social. Lower East Side. Manhattan, New York. 06.06.14.

Since we were in Jay-Z’s city, I got a cocktail that had D’ussé, which I always associate with Hova’s lyrics.

(actual) nice guys (don’t) finish last

The doorbell chimed and woke Bea with a start. She slid from the couch to the floor, adjusting her blanket cocoon. (A blanket cape gave her more mobility.) She wiped sleep from her eyes and ambled to the front door. Not bothering to check the peep hole, she unlocked and opened it.

“Hey…?”

Bea couldn’t blame her confusion on her waning fever. A vaguely familiar gangly guy stood on her front porch. His name escaped her (or had never been committed to her memory).

“Hey Bea!” The disheveled hipster thrust a cup of melting ice cream into her hands. “I knew you were craving it, so I thought I’d stop by with some.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you psychic?”

“You tweeted about it this afternoon.”

“Do I know you?”

Ice cream dripped from the paper cup onto her hands. Her fingers stuck together as she gripped the cup tighter.

“I’m Miller. We met at The Cults show a couple weeks ago?”

Bea squinted and cocked her head.

“Your line was when you asked if I was named after the shitty beer –”

“Oh. You’re that guy. For future reference, that wasn’t a line.”

“Sure it was. You were negging me.”

That was your justification to stalk me on Twitter?”

“You wouldn’t give me your number, so you gave me your Twitter handle.”

“Being hammered makes me pity assholes like you.”

“Why am I an asshole? I brought you ice cream because you’re sick!”

“I mocked you at the bar because you were quizzing some poor girl wearing a Toro Y Moi shirt –”

“I just wanted to know if she was a real fan or –”

“–just a poser? How old are you, fourteen?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“Get out of my house. And take this with you.” Bea threw the Coldstone cup at his car and cheered when it splattered on his windshield.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! I was just trying to be nice –”

“That’s the problem with guys like you, Miller –”

“Guysplural — like me? I’m one of a kind! Women don’t appreciate men who treat them well –”

“– you say you’re nice, but are incensed when a woman won’t fuck you because of your niceness.”

“I never said I was –”

“Your creepiness says it for you.”

“So because you’re not interested that makes me a creep?”

Exactly!

The door slammed behind Bea. She locked and dead-bolted it. Disgusted, she shuffled to the kitchen and scrubbed her hands clean.

a city girl’s lullaby

streets bustling until dusk
(occasional) police sirens
skyscrapers dwarfing duplexes
neighbors blasting music —
the cacophonous melody of
a city girl’s lullaby.
small towns are too tranquil
& dimly lit country roads
are terrifying at nightfall.

A guide to safely raving

“I’m too sober for this.” Polina sighed.

“I’ve got an extra hit if you want it.” Vanessa presented a tiny ziplog bag with a powder-filled pill.

“I’m not taking molly that you bought from some rando ginger kid in the parking lot!” Polina scoffed and sipped her water.

“I wasn’t gonna buy it from that dude with meth teeth!” Vanessa chugged the rest of her water bottle.

The Quad was packed. Strobe lights flashed in unison with each song, frenetically changing colors when the bass dropped. A cloud of sweat hovered over the dancing crowd. Flux Pavillion manned his turntables. He pumped his arms to direct the sea of people — jump higher.

“Gonna run to the bathroom.” Polina squinted suspiciously at her best friend.

“I’ll stay here!” Vanessa smiled innocently.

“Damn it, V.”

Vanessa was crowd surfing. She laughed and waved to Polina. A guy in a Gumby costume and a girl dressed in a wolf headdress with a furry bikini pulled her onstage. Polina stuffed her hands into her pockets, nodding and swaying with the music.

“What the hell?!”

Polina pulled a tiny ziploc bag out of her pocket. Vanessa must’ve dropped it into her pocket before she went to the bathroom. She glanced around, popped it, and drained the rest of her water bottle.

***

“V — the universe is giving me a hug!”

“Isn’t it beautiful, Pol?”

“Colors are even brighter. Everything is in focus.”

“I can feel my skin breathing…”

“Is it weird?”

“It’s peaceful.”

“I never wanna eat.”

“If we had water gallon jugs, I could easily drink one right now.”

“Me too! Heat waves are rolling down my spine.”

“See? And you thought that ginger kid was sketchy.”

“I take back what I said. How did you know his shit was legit?”

“He lives with his grandma.”

“She finds high quality drugs for him…?”

“No, he said that she always tells him to do his best in everything he does, so he would never sell anything subpar.”

“God bless ginger kid’s grandma.”

“Amen.”

There is a direct correlation between the severity of my hangover & how successful New Year’s was.

There is a direct correlation between the severity of my hangover & how successful New Year’s was.

Shaina & Andrea at Paradise Park. Nashville, Tennessee.

Shaina & Andrea at Paradise Park. Nashville, Tennessee.

I rang in 2014 with Shaina & Andrea at the Aloft West End hotel drinking bourbon (Bulleit this time, not Jim Beam) and watching Beyoncé’s visual album. We ended the night at Paradise Park, a bar modeled after a trailer park. The cover band did a country rendition of “Wonderwall” that was truly spectacular. We danced, sang so loud our voices disappeared, and laughed at Andrea’s new cowboy hat.

I hope everyone had an equally safe and fun New Year’s Eve! Cheers to hoping 2014 is even better than 2013!