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Harriet Dubman came over this morning. She went on and on about having to do homework for school but how she couldn’t focus because she’d rather be on K. Apparently the previous night was the unofficial night of a thousand k-holes, and wouldn’t the world be better floating in a sea of ketamine and yadda yadda, etc… I had work to do as well but had a hard time focusing seeing how I needed to eat…not only that, I needed to go to Mikey’s Hookup.

So I told her lets go to Bedford, we can get falafel at the Oasis, and I’ll get a cf card for my camera. Then we can come back to my place, I’ll be able to focus, we’ll both finish our work, and then make time for k-holes.

We get to Bedford and hit up the Oasis first, Hook up second, then Harriet mentions that she wants a cookie. Yea, I could go for a cookie too. Initially I decided to use my iphone to find a cookie shop round us, but Apple Maps just lead us to a bunch of coffee shops. Harriet’s getting tired of walking around we still need to get home, and I decide to call Adam to see if he knows of anything in the neighborhood. He mentions a place called “Milk” over on Metropolitan and Havemeyer. Apparently this is David Changs operation, and that gives me faith.

This isn’t where you come if you are looking for a chocolate chip, or muthafuckin snickerdoodle, no sir. Cookie flavors were cornflake marshmallow, corn, blueberry & cream, confetti, and compost. I inquire bout the compost assuming that it is just odd and ends, the lips and asses of snacks. The girl behind the counter confirms my suspicions and I decide that our best move would be to just get 3 cookies, blueberry, cornflake, and compost.

Harriet bites into the blueberry cream and starts into how she hates the current status gender rules. her luck with men hasn’t been the best, and apparently has had several run-ins with men who like it up the ass. I wrote a poem for one situation in particular called “So you had a bad date“.

“Just find me one man who doesn’t want to get fucked… thats my mission, to find the one man in New York city who doesn’t want to get fucked in the ass” She exclaims spitting out bits of blueberry and cream. I am really digging these cookies, Cornflake and marsh mellow has a real nice gooeyness to it.

“I’m sick of these modern gender rules, I want shit to go back 100 years”

I hear this and ask “so you think the feminist movement was a failure?”

She breaks it down, that she feels men are too sensitive, too intouch with their feelings, and downright too feminine. She wants a man to be a man, beat the crap out of her in bed, and not expect her to fuck em. With Harriet, sex isn’t sex without bruises, this is the secret to her orgasms.

We get back to my apartment, finish our work and I realize I have no time for a k-hole, I have pictures and drinking to partake in at the bodega on the corner, aka mi casa segundo. Since the place is closing, we value it more, we enjoy it more, laugh louder and drink heavier.

It’s gonna go long tonight, which is something I need. I’m gonna need some vicodin to keep me awake all night.

We started drinking till the bodega closed at eleven, then went to Maria’s to keep going. Maria made tostones and fried pork. This helped off-set the alcohol. Vinnie started singing boleros, Mani egged him on, Maria and Eddie dance bachata, and I talked politics with this older Puerto Rican. The brugal poured heavy as I compared voting for president being just as effective as choosing paper or plastic.

This ain’t a classy affair, this is simply the ugly getting worse.

At one point in the middle of my drunken stupor, I went to the bathroom and had to use my hand against the wall to hold myself up. Seeing this I thought I liked the image and somehow felt the need to document it with a photograph. So with my right hand on the wall, left taking the photo, I was left with my waste to aim for the toilet. This is like a magic trick, I should take that act on the road.

When I decided that I had had enough, I just walked out the door saying I would be right back. Thats how I get out of saying goodbye, and I’m famous for it.

Getting ready to get worse

 

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