The Hodgepodge...

That is my life.

Theme song: Walking with a Ghost – Tegan and Sarah

Friday afternoon I didn’t fall asleep until I saw the 'rents jump a cab to the airport (they came back to the house on the early tip because the flight was delayed 'til the late tip). Right now they are in Antigua… Lucky so & sos. I woke up after about 4 hours of sleep and called Malik back. He was downtown at Soho 323, so I threw on some gear and went to meet up with him and his peeps. I get downtown and received a ‘you’re so damn vip’ stamp on my inner wrist and went upstairs. Leek is chillin with his boy and Miss Naima. The music, um, for lack of a better term, was pretty frickin bad. The dj had no sense of timing, no blend skills and basically played the usual radio ga-ga. Best part of 323 was running into Dorian who is hella funny (yeah man, not everything needs to be repeated). No sooner than I had downed my first vodka straight, Leek et al were ready to bounce. I hate getting somewhere and having to turn around and go somewhere else. Initially we were going to go catch up with Kelsey, who sent the following terse text message ‘drunk at lit’ but somehow got sidetracked by a phone call from one of Naima’s peeps who was at Double Happiness. Double bullshit is more like it. Other than hearing Cypress Hills play one good time, the spot sucked. So we all walked over to some dungeonesque joint on Delancy Street that, you guessed it, hoovered like a motherfucka. Nai’s boy is no longer allowed to pick the spots. After boring ourselves to tears for a bit, we bounced and went over to Piano’s which had a pretty good crowd, the dude that just wouldn’t take a ‘nah I don’t wanna dance with you at all’ for an answer, notwithstanding. End of the night came all too soon now that we were finally somewhere reasonably jumping and I went home. Ran into Omega Moon on the way back to the crib and we yapped for a hot second. Came in, fell out, and woke up.

Saturday I ruined the play I had just written by pulling out 3 entire acts because I didn’t like how they flowed. muMs had long since admonished me for reading what I write because I never like it. It’s the whole ‘your own worst critic’ syndrome. I had initially promised that I would just write and let someone else critique it but my lack of discipline won out. I’ll just have to redo it.

After massacring my work, dropping the kid off to family so she could actually play with people her age (apparently I suck at Barbie Goes Bananas), I shot downtown to catch a quick show (sucked, I won’t even insult my girl by mentioning it because I like this broad) and we were all so very gutta because damned if it wasn’t byob in your knapsack/pocketbook/suede clutch. Boozing and booing took its toll because the next thing I knew I was late getting to the airport. The fact that the flight was a half an hour early didn’t help either. Let’s just say ‘irked’ was the look on his face. Skipping the cab ride home, hauling the luggage upstairs and stuff, we headed back downtown to eat/meet up with Ray Duke. First option was Pop Burgers so we could feed and frolic all at once, but door dude said “you’re gonna have to take off that hat,” and Baby said “I think not.” About face. We ended up at the diner on the corner of 14^th and 9^th . Music? Slammin. Reggae fo yo ass. It had to have been a cd but it was still the best shit I’d heard in days. Was that an eatery or a damn club? I still don’t know. Knoshed, had dirty martini’s and headed over to Bungalow 8. Our attempt to enter was thwarted by Joe Cop who instructed us to walk all the way around the block because they had closed off that side of the street. About face. Not sure what to do next, we started walking down 10^th Ave when Ray started talking crazy.
Ray: Let’s just walk for a while…
Mala: (in 4.5 inch tasty pumps) Taxi!
I left the boys to be men and took my behind home, rapidmente.

Sunday, we slept in, awoke late and puttered around before heading to the local diner for breakunchinner. Horrible the things people will eat when hunger is ravaging the body and the local restaurants leave much to be desired, just horrible. We then set off to Central Park to meet an old friend from high school (his not mine) and lay around in the Meadow for a bit, smoking, toking and just being still. I am really feeling this not-yapping-all-the-time vibe. His boy showed up so we walked over to summer stage and found that the line to get in was longer than Rapunzel’s hair. Homeboy and his girl got on line. As for us? Yup. About face.
We walked down to Lincoln Center to catch a movie but um:
1. We missed the show by like 10 minutes. Next show time? Two and a half hours later.
2. Price of admission: $10.75 per person. Wtf?!
3. 1 small drink $4.25. Seriously. Wtf?!
So you know, About face.

Not sure what we felt like doing, we started to walk up Central Park West while deciding which of the African eateries we wanted to patronize. The dare to walk to 106^th and Amsterdam was given at 68^th and Broadway and ended on 87^th by the park. I could have done the whole thing (really, I had on kicks, I've done it before) but didn’t want to chance the kitchen closing before we arrived so: Accio Taxi!
I was introduced to my very first experience with Ethopian food and it was sublime (thanks baby). Having an excuse to eat with my hands was pretty boss as well. We finished up, grabbed our puppy sack and walked down to the train.
I told you I was gonna include this:
You: I gotta find somebody to give this food to.
Me: What, you’re not gonna eat it?
You: Yeah I’ll eat it but I just don’t want to carry it right now.
Me: Oh lord, gimme the food.
You: Thanks babe, it’s impeding my ability to handle my business right now (out came the granny apple pipe).
True smoker. Insert peals of laughter from me here.

The ride home was painfully long as the D train insisted on skipping stops which included mine. I was inspired while waiting and immediately went into stone-face mode because I didn’t have a pen, paper or my laptop. Some writer I am.
Got home, threw down 4 pages of ideas and watched After the Sunset before knocking out.

Today?

Baby is packed off to go work *sigh*. I’m trying to resurrect the pieces of the script I have slain. The girl is running around the house singing John Jacob Jinglehiemer Schmidt at the top of her lungs. I’ve got tech rehearsal at 5 or so and I’m anxious as all hell.
The 10^th… just a few days away. I’m more nervous than an orphan boy in a Catholic church. I don’t know how it will be but the show will go on.

Come check it out and if you don’t have anything nice to say, say it anyway, I can take the critique.

- & so it begins (“get it out baby” whispers in my ears every time I close my eyes *giggle*)