Today’s soundtrack: fucking around in a crap game
Today at 11:02pm: sucking down a Stella


Check it out, my first “friends only” journal entry. How did it come to this.

I’ll tell you how it came to this. My girlfriend and I broke up a while ago, and she’s got a friend who reads my shit religiously and reports in. I don’t want to publicly write anything that may potentially upset my now-ex ‘cause

(choose one)

a. I’m a nice fucking guy
b. I don’t want to deal with the shitstorm and drama that seems to materialize out of nowhere.

Oh my GOD! Feels so good to write freely again. I’ve been censoring myself with all kinds of shit for the past few months. Wanted to write about issues I had with my now-ex but couldn’t.

Tonight I went over to Swim (it’s a bar on Orchard Street, not the verb) for Jeff’s birthday party. Handsome Dan told me Marz would be spinning, I recently found out that not only is Marz a DJ, he’s “the sickest battle DJ I’ve ever seen,” says Dan. Apparently he gained quite a bit of fame in this one DJ crew. At the age of 31 I’ve turned into a fucking square so I know nothing about such things.

I ended up in conversation with this Japanese girl. A lot of women at bars either find me too short to talk to, or maybe I’m just repulsive; so when a girl emits the “I’m interested in talking to you, Rain” vibe, it’s so rare for me that I always recognize it right away. This Japanese girl was standing near me and I got the vibe so I started talking to her. You know, the ten-second rule.

The best part is she was 29. I thought she was cute, although Handsome privately insisted she was not. I guess Handsome and me have different tastes. It could also be that Dan’s sexual taste buds have become deadened by sharing a bed with up to seven transvestite whores at a time, I dunno. Or was that me? I’ll have to look at the videotape.

Anyways the girl, I’ll call her Ryoko, and I are talking and this cat comes around. Asian American, seemed like a nice guy and he seemed like he wanted Ryoko’s attention so he stood on the other side of her to talk, perhaps hoping she would turn and box me out. But she didn’t, she kept talking to me so I just went with it.

Turns out Ryoko’s a stylist (for magazine shoots and shit), I make the gab and wind up with her card in my pocket. I break off for a little while to keep it fresh--nothing is worse than being a Klingon a/k/a cling-on--but we end up sitting at the same table later. She produces a small digital camera and starts taking pictures of me. So I broke out the Sony and took a picture of her.

I moved and sat next to her and we gabbed some more. The interloper was on the other side but she gave me more face angle. Eventually I got up to circulate again. Saw lots of old faces and Marz put some killer tracks on.

The interloper and Ryoko’s friends take off, then it’s just me and her. I have a tough time getting a read on Japanese girls--I found out, after the fact, that I had blown some killer chances in Tokyo--so I just hung.

We shot the shit for a little while then she mentioned that a friend of hers was spinning at this other party on 10th Street and I start reading into it--is she hinting that she has to leave? asking if I want to go? is she just talking? Living in Japan I learned that a lot of the time there are all sorts of hints being dropped that you’re supposed to pick up on. Ryoko had an accent but her English was pretty good.

Eventually Ryoko said she had to go and mentioned that she lived around the corner. I offered to walk her home but she said it was close. I thought that might signal the end of the mission but she urged me to e-mail her tomorrow.

I floated around a bit, then started taking snapshots of Marz while he was spinning. The waitress--another cute Japanese girl--passed by and started talking to me. “Is that a digital camera?” she asked (in fluent English). I almost made a wise-ass comment of the no-it’s-a-walkman-that-you-listen-to-by-pressing-it-against-your-eye variety but the censors caught it.

“Yep,” I said. “Do you shoot at all?”

“Oh, sure!” she said, accepting the camera from me. She turned and started lining Marz up in the viewfinder.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Megumi,” she said.

“Then this will be the Megumi Shot of DJ Marz,” I said, instantly regretting it. Why can’t I be smooth.

“What’s your name?” she asked. And so on, until ten minutes later we’re sitting at the bar talking. It went well at first and then I think she lost interest, I’m not sure. I packed up around 1:30am and got her e-mail address, just in case.

Back at the house I unloaded my digital photos to see if the first girl was cute (the bar was darker than that movie by Gaspar Noé). I still think she’s cute but her teeth are kind of, well, never mind.

I’ll hang out with her again anyway, if I get the chance; I like her personality. And she actually wanted to talk to me, even after ten minutes.