3.) Daytime in New York

New York during the day was completely different than at night. During the day there was a refined subdued tone that was set free once the sun retired and the moon was on display. The night was reserved for the delinquents like us. Mainly because we were less likely to be bothered for our antics. We became the majority rather than the minority. Men dressed like women, women dressed like gutter socialites and everyone thought they were the most important ones in the room. It was quite the shit show. Creativity and self expression ruled us all. Nothing mattered yet everything mattered all at once. We were loud, rambunctious and entitled. Not because of who we were from a societal stand point but, simply because we demanded it.

As I rode the four train from Chambers St in Tribeca up to 231 E. 47th ST completely stoned out of my mind, the mysterious man from the night before seeped into my cerebellum. Which reminded me to ask around if anyone had any clue as to who he was when I arrived.

Walking into the silver factory was an overload of the senses instantly. Everything had a beautiful metallic sheen to it that, when one was on acid, would cause the most insane hallucinations that you could imagine. There was always some kind of creative something happening. Whether it was painting, a new film Andy had come up with or any other miscellaneous project that one of had thought up. Being there became the thing to do when there was nothing to do. Hell, it was the thing to do even if you were supposed to be doing something else.

To my surprise, upon my arrival the factory was practically empty. There were a few stragglers scattered about. Friends of some of the super stars I assumed. One mentioned they had been shooting throughout the night doped up on speed and had probably ventured off to Max's. That sounded like pretty typical behavior. It was a gorgeous fall afternoon and I figured it wouldn't hurt to wander the city for awhile. Besides, I was hungry.

Before I left I chatted with the girls there for a bit and in the midst of talking they told me about a party happening on the upper east side that night. Typically I stayed away from that side of town. It was all the bourgeoisie with out any of the recklessness that I was accustomed to and comfortable with.

"Sure. I'll go. As if I'll turn down a fabulous party? I said as soon as the last syllable touched her lips. With that she wrote the address for me, I slid it into my pocket and on my way I went. "If the party is awful I'll just get drunk enough that I'll still be able to make it home, and when I hit that point, I'll leave." I thought to myself as I walked down the street to hail a cab.

Once inside the cab I began thinking more about the party that night. More so about what I was going to wear than anything else. The people didn't matter so much as much as the clothes they were wearing. Most times someone's outfit can tell you more about them than they can themselves. I was officially excited. Not only about getting all dolled up but the fact that rich people always had the best champagne. Between the two I couldn't decide which thought was enticing the excitement more.

2.) The Morning After

Upon my arrival at my small yet cozy studio, I had finally thought myself tired of a man that I doubted I'd ever see again. I walked in, let my things fall where they wanted and poured myself one more glass of wine than I should have and slipped into a beautifully inebriated slumber.

The next morning I rolled out of bed and turned my jet black sheet into a cocktail dress that Holly Golightly would have approved of. I finished the glass of Sauvignon Blanc that I fell asleep to the night before and headed over to the record player. Every morning I habitually listened to one of the two Jimi's, Hendrix or Morrison. It was a Doors type of morning.

I turned on the shower to let it warm up. A process that was painstakingly annoying and the cause of my lateness majority of the time or so I had convinced myself. To pass the time I sat at my vanity, threw the curly mop I called hair into a messy bun and sparked a cigarette. I sat there listening to "Light My Fire" and staring at my reflection wondering, "What the hell are you doing with yourself?" A question I often asked when I wasn't sober enough to care about the answer. While I gathered my thoughts to fully contemplate the matter I rolled myself a joint to expedite the process.

I never found an answer to that loaded gun of a question. I decided against pulling the trigger and found myself content with the idea that life was meant to live in moments. With that logic as my guiding force I decided to stop by the factory. There was always something happening over there and I wouldn't necessarily need to wear anything aside from my make shift cocktail dress.

I slipped out of my ode to Audrey Hepburn and toked my way to the bathroom to start the day.

After a surprisingly hot shower I wrapped up in my fluffiest bathrobe and danced my way to the closet to find an actual outfit. Mainly because it was 54 degrees and I wasn't nearly drunk enough to wear a bed sheet outside. I settled on a short plum dress tights and my over sized fur. It was my mother's and one of the few possessions I ever gave a damn about. I threw on some makeup and began the hunt for my shoes which took an unnecessary 20 minutes.

The fact that I had been drinking at 9 AM on an empty stomach didn't help either i'm sure.  My rational was that it was always noon somewhere and that was all the logic I needed.

Eventually I got myself together and in the midst  of doing so, rolled one more joint for the walk to the subway and blissfully left the house letting Mr. Mojo Risen and the boys play themselves out. 

Inspiration.

1.) Him and the Girls.

1966.

New York City.

It was a chilled November night and I was on a stroll through downtown headed to see a few friends. It was on this walk where I saw him. Instantly everything felt as if it had slowed down and I was caught in his seductively charming stare. As we walked closer towards each other his eyes sent a feeling of sensual mischief shooting down my spine simultaneously causing a blast of heat to the balls of my cheeks. Then as we approached one another he smirked and licked his lips whispering, "good evening", in a soft yet assertively masculine tone.

I smiled and timidly whispered back, "good evening to you too." Though as flushed as my cheeks were, I'm sure they spoke for me.

"Who the hell was that?" I thought to myself the rest of the way to the Hotel Chelsea. I'd like to think that I was a woman of the town. If there were men that looked like that roaming the streets of Manhattan, I typically knew who they were.

As I walked through the doors of the Hotel I wasn't surprised to see Nico, Edie, Ultra Violet, and Candy all compiled in one room. Some more doped up than others but lovely all the same. Granted, I was no saint so I couldn't say much but there was just something about them. As tragic of a scene as it was, they were still my friends. So as my friends they had to know about my run in with the epitome of sex appeal.

"He was beautiful." I explained, "but not solely in the sense of physicality at all. Now, don't get me wrong, he was gorgeous but the look in his eyes as he shot me a glance made me willing to succumb to his every desire without a second thought."

"Well why didn't you take him then?" Candy whispered in her Marilyn Monroe-esque voice. "I couldn't. Everything happened so quick. I hardly got to say anything back before it was over."

"I'm sure you'll see him again darling." Edie halfway slurred as she lay sprawled out across the bed in nothing but a fur and chandelier earrings. - Too many downers to balance out the uppers was my best guess but no one ever really knew with her.

After about an hour of chatting over a few bottles of wine and sloppily rolled joints I gathered my things, kissed the girls goodbye and proceeded on my trek back to Tribeca as he swirled about my intoxicated thoughts the entire trip.

Preface

The entire purpose of writing this story live is to get over my stage fright. I get ridiculously shy when it comes to people reading my work because I don't think they'll get it and end up looking at me crazy. So, I figured documenting this process via an interactive blog would force me out of my comfort zone in a really cool way.

I can't say this is going to be a short process, but I can say that it will be pretty damn awesome by the time all is said and done.

Promise.

Xo.