brothercyst: tonight, the night

Friday, May 16, 2008

tonight, the night

I feel I'm descending into a surreal dream world due to my insomnia. I have no idea what happened to me tonight. After work I was in Bryant Park talking to a stranger, I don't know her name or anything about her except she had an Apple laptop with a Hello Kitty sticker on it, and I was pointing at the clouds saying they were apocalyptic, and I was very nervous and shivering. Then I was at the International Center for Photography for an opening; Diane Keaton hosted it; I had wine and little snacks; I talked to a South African I was certain I already knew but didn't; I saw eerie shit like this. Then I went to Mike Edison's book party for I Have Fun Everywhere I go. There was a person in a full body gorilla suit. I saw John Reed. We both thought we knew each other, but we'd never met. I left. I came to be in possession of a strange, spiky asian fruit about the size and shape of a large balloon. This fruit is known as "the king of fruits" and is infamous for its terrible smell. I worked on the writing project that is not Strangelets. Ned was over. We watched the mesmerizing "Soulja Girl" viral video--several times. Ned stood on the fruit and it wheezed air and began to smell like garbage. Sometime in here my phone rang. A number I didn't know. I answered and someone said "Nick?" Recently I had gotten really angry because some girl who had my number had given her cell phone to her friends and they woke me up trying to call another Nick after I'd already gotten annoyed about it, so I said, "Who is this?" But it turned out to be the actor Danny Franzese, who had my number from a year ago in New Orleans and was looking for another Nick. Then Ned and I went uptown to have a drink. We took the spiky fruit. Everybody who we showed it to reacted. Women were clutching at it. We ran into this guy Brian at one bar and he came with us to other bars. We went to a hat store and the clerk put a fedora on my head. At the last bar I just started aggressively showing the fruit to people, trying to give it to them. Brian took a picture. A Spanish guy got in my face. "What is it? NO NO NO... what is it? What's in it??" He thought whatever was in it could get him high, and he wanted it. But I didn't give it to him. Next I showed it to a group of people, eight or nine girls, and they kept grabbing it and cooing over it. I wanted to smash it on the street. So Ned and Brian and I went outside. This crowd of girls followed, fawning over the fruit. I threw it up in the air as high as I could and it fell back to the asphalt and burst, pus-like yellow innards spurting out. (Brian took a picture.) I tasted them. So did the braver girls. The taste was like fermented mango. One girl took a video of the whole thing. I want that video. Some other things happened too--some things in McDonald's and earlier there were some things I left out, like one thing that involved unnecessarily broken glass, and how I came to have the fruit, which is a story I can't tell. Also Lost was on tonight but I missed it.



i know this feeling. you should write more about insomnia. good.

Jennifer said...

your writing is starting to sound like certain passages from American Psycho--minus the murder and obsessive designer references.