We Kissed The Track

May 20, 2010

-Fun night?

-The funnest night. Me and Z went to the Hello Surf show and afterwards we walked by the brewery and there were these girls outside and they said, Hey guys, do you meat? and Z and I looked at each other and we were like, Uh, Yeah we do so we went inside and they were having this beer and meat tasting thing and we ate at least five pounds of barbecue and drank all this eight-percent beer, the good stuff, not what you’ve had before. This was serious beer, honey, give me a kiss.

-Fine.

[A kiss.]

-So we hang at the brewery for three hours and people are dancing and shit and I danced with this girl from Maine who just moved here and she’s gonna be a jazz dancer and she’s so good at dancing so I know she’s gonna do OK, and Z was working on this group of Parsons girls, killing them with his T-shirt talk. And he had his backpack full of shirts and one of the girls wanted a Zoloft shirt and another wanted a seahorse shirt and he gave the hot one a Stephen shirt, you know Stephen, the dinosaur from Clifford.

-The what?

-The Martin Short movie, Grodin, doesn’t matter, so we hang at the brewery until 2 or so and Z decides to call Georgia. Yeah, Georgia Georgia, and at first I was like, This is a terrible idea, but it ended up being cool because she was drunk too and they really hit it off. Then he hands the phone to me and I say, Why hello, pretty girl, I watched you shake it tonight, but I didn’t tell her it was me so she thought a friend of this random guy was also hitting on her but it was actually her ex.

-That’s kinda fucked up.

-You’re fucked up, give me a kiss, why is Little Ann still awake?

-He was sleeping until you came home. Good God, why are your hands so dirty?

-Oh! Oh! So after the brewery party we walk to the Bedford stop and the sign says the train’s gonna come in ten minutes so we’re like, Fuck it, let’s cab it, but then Z says, Ten minutes is just enough time for a track hang.

-Oh no.

-So we climb down to the tracks. It was so easy, there’s a mofo ladder right there and, in FACT, it’s retarded that more people don’t do this ‘cause it’s easy and awesome. So we’re hanging on the tracks and Z’s dancing like a lunatic and these girls on the platform are into it, taking pictures and shit, and Z gets all on fours and kisses the track.

-He kissed the rail?

-Track, rail, whatever, he kissed the track, he Frenched it. And so did I. And one of the girls taking pictures climbs down and mounts the track. So Z’s kissing it, I’m kissing it, this girl’s riding it, she’s holding Z’s hand, it’s amazing. All the city’s energy went into our mouths and it’s still with me, the exuberance of the city is in my mouth. Look at my teeth, it’s still there, you can see it. You want some Brooklyn exuberance in your mouth? Get over here.

-You’re disgusting.

-I see what’s going on here. You’re jealous that I was out kissing track and not at home kissing you.

-You’re absolutely right. I’m jealous of you and your subway-track orgy friends.

-[singing] Jea-jea-jealous WO-man! She’s a jea-jea-jealous girl!

-Is that even a song?

-Now it is.

-You are such a—

-What? An exuberant fellow? Why thank you. Why thank you, m’lady.

-Listen. I’m pregnant.

-[crazy laughter] This is so perfect!

-No it’s not. Stop laughing.

-It’s perfect that I come home all DRUNK and tell you this awesome story about kissing track and me being awesome and you’re all serious, I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, honey. It’s a perfect scene. Good, I’m happy for us, bring on the children, we’re starting a family band. Little Ann, wake up! You’re learning bass tonight. I’m the frontman and this new cat’s the drummer. [rubs her belly]

-Do you want more kids?

-Fuck it, sure.

-FUCK IT, SURE is your answer?

-[singing] Jea-jea-jealous WO-man. She’s a pre-pregnant WO-man. Fu-fu-fu fuck it, sure, man.

-I’m not actually pregnant, you dick.

-Phew. Close call. Time for the post-pregnancy-scare sex, come here. [he's grabby]

-Jesus, stop. See, this ridiculous display is proof that you’re not an adult. What if I were pregnant, huh, and I needed to go to the doctor and I call you and you’re MIA and I have to call a friend and they say, Where’s your man? and I have to say, Who knows, he could be out kissing track with Z. Do you know Z, the guy who gives girls novelty T-shirts and then fucks them and doesn’t call them?

-Z calls them. He takes girls out, his parents are loaded.

-That’s not the point. The point is, I don’t know, but Jesus, you’re such a momma’s boy but you treat women like shit! Do you realize that? This whole neighborhood: fucking momma’s boys who treat women like shit. It’s maddening.

-No I don’t treat them like shit.

-Yes you do.

-I love all the girls.

-Now why would you say THAT right now?

-OK. Let’s calm down. We’ve been through a lot. A minute ago we thought we were pregnant. Breathe, take my hand. Walk with me to the station and we’ll kiss some track together and it’ll all be cool. Take my hand.

-Don’t touch me, you’re covered in grime.

-Take my hand. Let’s kiss some track.

-Goodnight. I’m sorry for yelling at you.

-[singing] Sorry is a word for the unmindful.

-So help me God.

[Ann goes to bedroom]

-Yo, Little Ann. Wake up. Come kiss some track with your pops.

Next: Don’t Let That Cat In The Clubhouse

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A Vitamin C Emergency

May 4, 2010

-How was work?

-So shitty.

-My day sucked too. So this PR fag comes in the lobby with two boxes of Clementines, one in each hand, and demands to know what room you-know-who is in. And I say I can’t tell you because he doesn’t want to be disturbed. So the PR fag says, His MOTHER asked me to deliver these Clementines. It’s an emergency. A Vitamin C emergency. This guy is so tiny, right, so the boxes are pulling down his shoulders. And I’m like, Alright, alright. So I call you-know-who and he answers all pissed off. I say there’s a dude in the lobby with two boxes of Clementines for you and he says they’re from your mother. And guess what you-know-who says? Guess. Guess.

-Just tell me.

-He says, My mother’s been dead for ten years and he starts crying maniacally. I turn to the PR fag and say, He says his mother’s been dead for ten years. And now he’s upset. And the PR fag says, No she’s not, I went shopping with her this morning. I tell you-know-who that he went shopping with your mom this morning and he says, Oh my God, it must’ve been her g-g-g-g-g-ghost. So I tell the PR fag that you-know-who thinks it was a ghost, and the PR fag says, This is the worst, I’m leaving these here. He drops the Clementines in the lobby and storms out. I get back on the phone and tell him that he’s gone. And I say, Do you want me to bring you the Clementines? He says, Yes, bring me the Clementines and find out what the deal is with Pumps. Pumps is a strip club in Bushwick.

-I know what Pumps is.

-He’s been pulling these stunts all week and it’s been awesome. You can’t tell anyone this, by the way.

-I won’t tell anyone.

- So why was work shitty?

-We ran out of fried chicken again and this guy got all upset and started yelling at me.

-That sucks.

-And he left a ten-dollar tip on a hundred-dollar meal.

-Shit.

-And as he was leaving I gave him this look, like, You’re a dick. And he looked back like, I know I am, I’m sorry. So we kinda connected. Which was nice.

-The same thing happened yesterday with me and you-know-who. He’s getting into a car and he turns around all slow and cool and asks me where the college girls hang out and I say, Try Hey Jealousy. He says, I heard that place is beat and I’m like, yeah, it is but it can be fun. And he says, Then why did you recommend it? And I’m like, Because there are college girls there. He says, yeah, but if it’s beat, don’t recommend it next time. And I say I’m sorry. And you-know-who says  – and this is classic — he says: Sorry is a word for the unmindful.

-Wow. That’s deep. Kinda, maybe.

-I know, right? I wanted to ask if the line was his or Deepak Chopra’s or Dr. Phil’s or some shit, but he was already in the car.

-Sorry is a word for the unmindful. I think I might use it.

-What?

-I think I might use the line. In conversation.

-Maybe you shouldn’t.

-Why not?

-‘Cause it could back to him that I was talking about him and he might not like it.

-How on earth would it get back to him? And anyway, you were spreading his wisdom. He’ll love it, and I’ll source him.

-Source him?

-When I use it I’ll say that the line is his. Like when you source a book in a research paper.

-I see. But let me find out if it’s actually his first and, if so, if it’s OK for you to spread it around.

-Oh, please. What does it matter?

-Oh it matters. Oh, oh, oh! Did I tell you about the thing we’re adding to the grill’s menu? It’s pigs in a blanket, but fabulous. You have your choice of sausage: Gouda-chicken or apple-chicken, and the pastry is dotted with caraway seeds. I ate three yesterday. I posted a picture if you wanna look.

-I’ll check it out.

Next: Do We Need Cynar? 3

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Ann’s Birdhouse Muse

April 13, 2010

While creating this birdhouse I wasn’t thinking, What does an award-winning birdhouse look like? I wasn’t thinking, What will make the Bushwick Crafting Society go gaga? Truth is, I wasn’t thinking at all. You crafters in the audience already know this but I’ll say it anyway: When you’re consumed by artistic vision, you can’t think. You can only do. When a muse wraps her fingers around your neck and holds your face to the grindstone, you better not be thinking, mister. You better be doing. Last Valentine’s Day my muse tackled me to the ground and dragged me into my studio and put a saw in one hand and a 2-by-4 in the other and forced me to work all night. I was in a trance. I can’t recall how I came to use logs that are to scale to the ones Lincoln’s father would have used. And I can’t recall why I chose papier-mâché for the chimney or a button for the doorknob. But don’t give me the credit. Thank my muse, my birdhouse muse. I’ve often wondered: Does my muse inspire musicians and architects and poets and etc., or only craftsmen slash -women? Is she down in New Orleans some nights, whispering notes in a jazz trumpeter’s ear as he prepares to jam? Has she ever taught petits battements to a young ballerina? I wouldn’t mind if I had to share her. Well, I’d be upset at first but I’d get over it quickly. I get over things quickly because my father was an army man and he instilled a Midwestern resilience in his children and it’s stuck with me. Life is shitty, he’d say, so make sure you’re doing the shitting and not getting shat upon. You have to deal or be dealt to, and I like doing the dealing, which is why I’m up here today. Thank you, and have a lovely evening. Oh Simone, is the gift certificate good at every Michaels or only the one in the city? Every one? Great, because I like to get my shopping done after I visit my aunt in Forrest Hills and there’s a Michaels out there. That one closed? You’re positive? Shoot. Guess I’ll be going to the one in the city then. It’s on Columbus? OK. Shoot. This is a rare example of me being dealt to and not doing the dealing. The lesson: You can’t control everything but it’s nice to win awards for the things you can control. Ann tries so hard to look like someone who crafts, it’s disgusting. The clogs, the black corduroys, the ratty hair. When she first moved in she’d spend twenty minutes in the bathroom each morning putting on make-up and she’d wear skinny jeans and band T-shirts. Bands Jameson liked. Now she only listens to bird sounds CDs. They put her in the mood to build, they summon her crafting muse, she says. It’s hard for me to say crafting muse without cracking up. I try not to be too hard on her. She has to dress the part, and these awards are all politics and image. If she wore the sundress and hoop earrings I bought her in Montauk, the Society wouldn’t take her seriously. That’s her problem: she goes out of her way to make sure she’s perceived as a serious person. Problem is, if she’s always shifting from one serious persona to the next to suit whatever boyfriend or craft project she’s into, how can she can’t expect to be taken seriously by anyone who knows her for longer than one persona? When she was building model airplanes she’d wear nerdy outfits, sexy nerdy outfits. An I ♥ LIBRARIAN BOYS button was usually on her tote bag. Now that she’s won this award she’ll move on, hopefully to something that calls for sensible clothes. Like graphic design. Those graphic design girls always look sharp. Jesus H., of course it’s good at every Michaels. Who asks a question like that into a microphone?

Next: The Fox in the Garage Part 4: Our Game

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ryanthomasgrim [AT] gmail
Published Work

Page 1: The Fox in the Garage

How I Started a Family

Do We Need Cynar?

Gary 1 and Gary 2

I Work at a Fashionable Hotel Called the Hudson

C.O.D.Y. the Robot Who Hangs Out

Ann and Her Birdhouses

Luke and His Bobber

The Fox in the Garage in 3-D

105 Stories About Ohio

Bits

The Slugman of Herbert Street

Harold and the Purple Women

Video

Dos Factotum

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