More of these photos over on Flickr
I had a full day yesterday, including visiting the Excalibur Bronze Foundry to witness a lost wax casting as part of a sculpture exhibition. I went because I have never seen anything like it before and probably would not have a chance to see it again, and there might be a small possibility whatever information I gleaned from the experience would be useful sometime in the future.
We all stood, jammed together, high up on a second story that had a long sliding plastic window, and watched down below. It was hot. We could not hear anything. I felt like I was watching a silent film or some sort of experimental dance performance. The men were so graceful, careful and precise. And they changed their appearance, eventually putting on protective jackets and helmets. Everything unfolded so slowly and then finally there was oozy glowing goodness, and we all oohed and ahhed. It was worth the ride to Bushwick, and I never thought those words would come out of my mouth, because as we all know, I fucking hate Bushwick.
Later I went up to the roof of my building and then got invited to a party on the 9th floor. I talked to a man I had just met there for a while, maybe 15 minutes, and then he said that he had to go, he had tickets to a show.
“What show?” I asked him.
“Fuerza Bruta,” he said. “You want to go?”
“Sure,” I said.
So I hopped in a cab with this stranger and we went to the show. It was pretty fun! Then we went for a walk through the East Village, and we ran into my old friend Bobby who I hadn’t seen in four years. He was standing in line at the movie theater, waiting to get into a Tribeca Film Festival screening. Bobby and I hugged a lot.
Then we went to Momofuku on 1st Ave, and I finally got to try their pork buns. The man sitting next to us told us that he had just been at a play on Broadway and they all had been evacuated because of a bomb threat. He kept staring at our food because he couldn’t decide what to order, and then told us he had been eating pork and steak all day at a relative’s house, and he just didn’t want any more pork, so he got the ramen (which has pork in it), but told us he was just doing it to make his family happy. I don’t think he touched it after it was served to him.
Then we walked some more and then hopped in a cab to some party in Chinatown at a fancy pants apartment buidling. It was on the roof and there was a DJ and there was some sort of gothic theme and there were drinks that had smoke coming from them. The guests included lots of guys who work at hedge funds and girls in teeny tiny dresses and high high heels, and me, who was wearing the same shorts, gingham shirt, and denim jacket I’ve been wearing the last few days, and, of course, zero makeup. Also I was easily ten years older than everyone there. Also I was sober.
Let’s replay this: me, stone cold sober at 2 AM on the roof of a fancy apartment building in Chinatown surrounded by men who work at hedge funds and the women who would love them.
Still I had fun, because everyone was nice, especially my escort for the evening, and also because I ran into a wonderful writer who years ago did my old Boxcar Reading Series (so it was obviously not entirely 25-year-old girls in slinky dresses, although she’s pretty foxy), and it had been her first time reading from her (really amazing) book ever, which she reminded me last night, and that made me feel good. It was really fun to see her, even if I felt like I was on a different planet entirely.
The entire day captivated me, and then I really needed to rest.
