Woke up to Petra crawling over me. She came back to bed, went back to sleep. Got out of the bed and took a shower. Put my clothes on. Put everything in my book bag. Looked at the rum bottle, the rum was gone. Left the room. Occurred to me that I never even looked at her before I left. Didn't even kiss her goodbye. Didn't matter. She was nuts. I was nuts, but not nuts in a mean way.
The sun was up. Barely anyone was on the streets. Took the L to Manhattan. Looked at cell phone, 6:45 a.m. Didn't have to be to the auditions till 11:30 a.m.. Looked at scribbled note in pocket to see where auditions were, decided to walk there. It said, “133 street, 27.” It didn't make sense. Wrote the directions down while drinking rum and while Petra wouldn't' shut up. Decided to walk to 133. Started walking. It got hotter and hotter. Walked up Amsterdam, saw many Jews. Saw many signs telling me to watch television shows. Saw many storefronts selling things that bored me. Kept going into Starbucks, taking a shit and buying a coffee. There was a Starbucks everywhere. There were also many McDonald's. I felt good. Needed time to think. Made it to Harlem. Called the movie people, Jack Lemark and Navid. Jack answered. Told me I should be on 27th. Told me to get out of Harlem, get on subway. I looked around, only white man for miles. Didn't care. I voted for Barack Obama. I would tell them that and we would be brothers. Found subway on Saint Nicholas. Took subway down. Found auditions.
Went up elevator. Covered in sweat. Knew I was not looking good. Got out of elevator. Walked into production offices or something. Very weird, movie posters and computers everywhere. Actors sitting and walking around, all talking to themselves. There were like eight people saying lines that I wrote seven years before out loud. It was very weird. Felt weirded out.
Navid led me into a small office. It was stuffy in the office. I thought there would be food. I was hungry. Somebody handed me a bagel. Ate the bagel slowly. Drank coffee even though very hot inside office. Actors came in and acted out parts. A skinny man videotaped them. Jack Lemark made comments, telling them to try things in a different way. Navid told them to do things he thought would work better. They would ask me to give an opinion. I gave a sociological opinion; everyone looked at me funny but at the same time took me serious. Ate another bagel.
Left the auditions with Navid and Jack Lemark. We went to Grand Central Station. They bought me a ticket to go home in two days. We sat and ate. They talked about money. How much they could get, what actors they could get, how much money each actor could bring in. I sat there eating French Fries text messaging Hu Chin. Hu Chin was at the NYU library facing Washington Square Park. He was my only hope to have a place to sleep. There were other places to sleep. But Hu Chin lived with John Walters and I knew we would have a good time together.
Navid and Jack Lamark got on the Q and went to a barbecue. Walked down to Washington Square Park. Badly needed a shower. Was very hot. No wind in Manhattan, all heat in the summer. Remembered Seven Year Itch, remembered how they said it got fucking hot in NYC in the summer. They weren't fucking lying. Found Washington Square Park. Sat down on benches in front of library in the shade. An older Black man played jazz to a middle-aged Puerto Rican woman. Hu Chin came out of NYU. We saw each other. We came close and shook each other's hand. He said, “You look hot.” Replied, “I need a shower.”
We took the L back Williamsburg. Hu Chin lived two blocks from Bedford. There were hipsters everywhere. Hu Chin lived in a different apartment than before. It was a nice size and clean. John Walters and his girlfriend lived in it. I had never met his girlfriend. The news was she was Korean, small, and had a positive attitude. John Walters and his girlfriend who was named Katie were on a camping trip in Vermont.
Hu Chin showed me his computer. It was MAC laptop. Half the screen was gone. It was all fuzz. I said, “Hu, your screen is broke.” He said, “I know, but I can still Gmail chat.”
Took a shower. It was one of the best showers of my life. I used Hu Chin's organic body wash and tooth paste. Felt very clean.
Put fresh clothes on. Hu Chin showed me his bedroom. It was messy. There were 2500 copies of Jason Bassini's new book. Hu Chin had published it. The boxes full of Jason's book were stacked higher than me. We looked at the boxes. Hu Chin said it would take ten years to sell 2500 poetry books. Told he had nothing else to do. He admitted that was true.
We sat at the kitchen table checking our emails. Then we left. It was night. The streets of Williamsburg were full of hipsters. We went to go see Andrew and his roommate Tod. Tod was a doctor of computer science who changed life goals and wanted to be a writer.
Ended up on Bedford at Mexican Place. Full of hipsters. Everyone seemed happy, it was summer. People were drinking. Andrew was now working for a major publishing company in a small office. He complained about it. It did sound lame. But it was obvious that he would move up in the future and his current lameness would end. Tod was interning at The New Yorker and getting an MFA from NYU. Andrew had his MFA from Columbia.
Andrew talked about restaurants. Hu Chin and Andrew fought over the remnants of the nachos. I drank water, they drank beer.
We went to a bar down the street. More hipsters. A lot of people. Friday night on Bedford. We walked to the back of the bar. It was an open patio. People were smoking and drinking. Andrew was talking to a group of people. He didn't introduce Hu Chin and I. Tod talked to us. Hu Chin and I sat on a small wooden thing. We were very close. There were no else to sit. We didn't get beers. An attractive Asian man came in, with a perfectly shaved face and nicely combed hair. Hu and I looked at him, Hu said, “That guy is the best person in this bar.” I said, “Look how he listens, look how he laughs right at the perfect time.” Hu chin said, “He is really good at being a person.” Then we named the guy Kevin. Then we pretended we were Kevin and talked to each other listening intently, looking at each other's eyes, responding with witty yet informative things. It was funny. Andrew came over to us and told us we needed to sit in certain spots so everyone could sit facing each other. We sat down. There was a girl who worked on Broadway next to me. Everything she said was really loud. All Hu Chin and I wanted to do was pretend we were Kevin.
We all left. On the sidewalk Hu Chin and I pretended we were Kevin more. We went to Andrew and Tod' apartment. Andrew gave me a copy of his magazine he created. It was a really nice magazine. It was large and the printing looked good. Some of the poetry in it was even good. Tod showed us an article he wrote concerning computers, it had graphs.
There were women there but Hu and I didn't talk to them. Hu had gotten a girlfriend who went to NYU. She was at home in Pittsburgh. I just didn't care.
Hu Chin and I went back to his apartment. We sat at his kitchen table. Talked about Jason Bassini. Jason Bassini had just made a video for Youtube. He looked gray and sickly. He could barely talk. Bassini looked like he might die. We imagine Bassini in first person:
I am going to the bathroom.
I am walking down the hall of a small Seattle apartment.
I need pay my rent. My rent must be paid.
Crushed underneath the rent.
I am going to brush my teeth.
I am looking at my toothbrush on the counter.
I am holding my toothbrush.
I put toothpaste on the toothbrush.
I am lifting the toothbrush to my mouth.
I am now cleaning my teeth.
I am Jason Bassini.
I work as a person that sells clothes on the sidewalks of Seattle.
Hu Chin and I talk about Jason Bassini pushing his grocery cart full of clothes down the streets of Seattle, probably all sweating and pissed off. One of the wheels of the cart hits a crack; it falls over, the clothes spill. Jason Bassini all sweaty, cursing his Catholic God, picking up the clothes that fell out and putting them back in the cart. Jason sitting beside his clothes reading a Lydia Davis novel, most of the time just staring into space. He wipes sweat off his forehead.