blah blah the plane took off at 9:30 am, painless, except for when my mum chose what juice i wanted and kept insisting that i was hungry and giving me tissues when i coughed. i was all like moooooooom! but it didn't stop her emasculating me. since anyone who reads this (me) knows me, it's maybe a moot point to say i'm 21, since nothing i do reflects it, but still. i didn't choose to be such a faggy manchild. anywayz, i watched notorious on the plane, doing my best to enjoy it in a white dude watching a film about gangsta rap sort of way, but it didn't work out. it seemed kind of stupid, he was a dick and sold drugs and cheated on his boo but w/e he became a famous rapper and got a movie made about him, so what do i know. where's my biopic? boring white shut in ages 21 years and remains a boring white shut in. jason biggs plays me, eugene levy plays my dad, but nothing funny happens.
i also watched slumdog millionaire, i thought the kid from skins was a really bad actor, but generally it was a good larf, i can see why danny boyle's mental kid screamed at the baftas.
the man who made it all possible.
then we got to JFK, some fresh off the boat ukranian guy got us in his taxi and raged his way through tons of honking innocents, frequently driving on 2 lanes and saying how much he hated new york and mentioning the mandatory tips. by the way, fuck mandatory tips, that's bullshit. 20% is insane. i decided before getting here that i was gunna be more outspoken and friendly so i asked him what he thought of brits and he was like "very quiet" and that was it, i kinda laughed, i only really said it because my dad was sitting in the front and saying all this embarrassing polite english stuff, like mentioning that flushing meadows was where they play tennis. i'm pretty sure niko didn't know what tennis was. i didn't really understand him, but i think we bonded. he took us to the fancy milburn hotel on west 76th st, and said "see you tomorrow, ha ha". after a good hearty awkward as fuck group laugh, we parted ways, got our room, went to our room, mum said it smelt, she went back and asked for a different one, theyre like ok, and we got a much better room with a flat screen, where i'm sitting right now. icy.
then we went off to the nearby central park to go see where john lennon got shot. after we'd walked for about 10 minutes i remembered my bag wasnt on my shoulder anymore and i tried to play it cool (in front of my parents) and casually sprinted back to the lobby, which was bad enough in front of all the new yorkers, but it also messed my hair up and i had a middle parting by the time i got to the lobby, i looked so much like the old mr muscle, everybody cared about what i looked like and laughed out loud. my bag was in the room, hahahahaha.
^ artist's impression of me in the lobby of the milburn hotel @ 3pm
central park is boring, it's fucking humid as shit out here, we went to strawberry fields where some guy shouted about john lennon. my dad was enthralled that strawberry fields was in the shape of a tear. then at the end he said about paying 500$ to get a bench with your name on and passed around a hat. meanwhile, i shot a passing guy with long hair and glasses, but no one got it, except for him, so we went to my old stompin ground, times square, via macy's. macy's is the naffest shop i think ever, so many awful expensive clothes. and i got no eyes from any girl, i don't think they go for skinny nerds in new york, what, i know right, seriously, jesus. it's not like i had much to say to ma and pa so i basically spent the day looking at people while they stared straight forward, or at the nearby dude with the rad tribal tat and bead necklace.
john lennon's ghost must have ghost creamed himself seeing that photo of himself. what a kind sentiment.
so many tourists in times square. foreigners and americans not from new york, all different colours but equally as sweaty and bent as us. squeezed our way through the m&m store, 400$ for a hilarious m&m themed guitar, i can imagine johnny pubes from club sushi laffin away at that shit and then handing over the loot from his jd sports salary. blah blah, loads of people, crappy merchandise for 1000$ a piece, we all stressed the fuck out and went back to the hotel. i'm getting bored of this. basically my family crashed and i spoke openly for the first time in about 30 hours to people online, and at around 10 i went outside for a smoke and walked around, new york is so fucking cool, everyone's just hanging out and laughing, i heard some guys playing basketball in a hall, and a guy was just selling books at a table in the street, 10 at night, books and blues records. i looked through to see if one of the 4 blues men i knew were in there, they weren't, but man. it's good to feel that beautiful buzz of being somewhere different. i kinda wish i had someone to talk to though. my brother is cool, but we're just not like that. that's why i'm writing this inane shit. we look so fucking similar walking around too, it's like the better looking bespectacled chuckle brothers moping around the city but without any of the crazy stuff, only the depressing stuff.
tim mum me in in times square. aren't we wackz?
oh, and i talked to a canadian guy we met in amsterdam, aohan, who is - funnily enough! - sub letting an apartment in the bronx, and we're gunna hang out on wednesday and smoke up and go to the zoo, which is tops really. i'm sure afterwards i'll be brimming with anecdotes, i won't be able to contain myself. tomorrow, who knows. maybe i'll go to another shop or landmark. analplay420 is the only place to find out.
peace to my friends, from new york. x
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