aka "The Best 36 hours of My Life" (check the dates)
You ever just have one of those great days? Not because anything happens, per se; you just wake up feeling great! That's how I feel today. I got up before noon for the first time in a week, cleaned my apartment (well, everything except the bedroom. I'll get to that later though). Still had too much energy so I moved the coffeetable out the way, put on some Marvin Gaye (What's Going On)and danced around my apartment long after I sweated out my hair and my wife B. Tried to calm down but I've been attacked by fits of laughter. I cannot stop smiling! I'm on my way to the gym to use up some of this energy in a worthy way.
I'm excited about tonight-- got church, then a few parties with good friends and strangers. But it's not just that. I'm looking forward to the new year. Got some great ideas for work; SSO and I have parted ways so I'm planning to enjoy my freedom (thought I was ready for a situation. I'm not. Out of respect, let's leave it at that... for now); I have amazing friends; I have great music; I have some great vacations planned; I have God on look out; I have my health... What more could I ask for?
I wake up many mornings excited about life. Great things just come my way with little effort on my part (ask me how I'm doing and my response is sometimes: 'blessed and highly favored’) I feel like this year is gonna be big.
For 2008, I wish you what Jay Z wished us all. “I wish you well/ (how sick am I?)/ I wish you health/ I wish you wheels/ I wish you wealth/ I wish you insight so you can see for yourself.
Dream big. Live bigger.
I didn't make it to the gym. Got sidetracked for dinner at Ruthie’s w/ Patent. It’s a total hole of an establishment but it has the best soul food I’ve had north of the Mason Dixon. We ate, then chilled for another hour shooting the shit and laughing with other customers about Patent trying to convince me to not go to church before the parties that night. Or at least have some wine before chuch. (I have my heathen moments and I'm well aware of what Jesus did with the wine, but even I know it’s just wrong to go to church with liquor breath.)
I brought in the New Years at Rachel's. (And yes, I went to church.) It was still early in the night so there were only about 25 of us present. Some Beyonce song came on, the one where she instructs everyone to “pat your weave, baby!” I looked around the room and realized that of 20 Black women, not one had a weave. The fact that they were all beautiful wasn’t lost on my male companion, who turned around and gave me a “thank you” that was so heartfelt you would have thought I was doctor who’d just saved a dear relative’s life.
We stayed there till one-thirty, then made our way to a thorough Brooklyn affair. We knew the crossstreets, but not the address, and found the house by following the music and hearing a DJ scream “where Brooklyn at?” Remember Biggie’s “One More Chance” video? That’s what the party looked like. Beautiful people, partying so hard. No posting, no wall standing, and every person I’d ever met in all the years I’ve been in New York rolled through. (I was so tipsy that I forgot I’d seen a few faces until days following. Events of that night are slowly filtering in.) I have no idea how much I drank, but it was enough that I had the second greatest night of my life (the 2006 all-girl Miami trip trumps this one. I danced on a table until 4am!), and not so much that I was belligerent nor threw up nor woke up with a severe hangover. By all accounts, I was my usual nutty self. At one point, I got a phone call from someone I adore, and went in stood in the corner like a dunce. At another, I slid down the wall after encountering a particularly beautiful man. I did nothing to shame the family name for this generation or any to come. (Those are all the details you get.) The low-light of the affair arrived when I found myself being screamed on by a brown-skinned man for my “lack of melanin.” (“You woulda been out in the field with us, D?” he yelled at one point.) I could only look at him blankly and ask, “Are we really having this conversation in 2008?”
Yes. In fact, we were.
I should at least be over the bridge by now if I want any hopes of getting to work on time, but sadly, I am still on the train in BK avoiding Social Hour on the B train in order to write (blog coming soon.) I have had the greatest 36 hours of life. After I stopped writing yesterday, I met up with Patent and Evan for dinner. We meant to get brunch but between recapping the night for Evan (suspiciously MIA for New Year's Eve), laughing about the second party, and moving slow, we ended up at dinner at Madiba. I realized midway through dinner that this is our (me and Patent. not Evan) tradition. We did the same thing last year.
On the way to dinner, I got a call from GP, who invites us to a Happy New Year shindig at his home. We’re trying to figure out what to take to the mini-event (GP asked me to bring a dish; I had to remind him I don’t cook) so Patent decides on Honeywine from around the corner. Turns out they can’t bottle it. I’ve never had Honeywine, which Patent insists I should try. Dinner’s running long and time is of the essence, so Patent calls over to have it prepared and waiting when we arrive.
We close out the bill and head over. When we turn the corner, we see the bartender headed toward us. He looks at us funny, and we look at him the same. He’s holding three martini glasses and a jug.
“You’re here!” he exclaims. “I was going to bring it to you!”
At the restaurant? How did he know who we were? The three of us look at each other and laugh.
The bartender explains that the restaurant is closing soon, hence why he was bringing the goods to us, but we are welcome to come in and sip.
We take him up on the offer. While we’re enjoying our goods (amazing!!), the bartender comes back. He’s figured out a way to bottle the Honeywine if we want it. (We do!) We order a bottle for $30. He comes back with two, tells us that both bottles and all of the drinks are $40. We give him $60 on general principle.
After I go home to change, (I had on sweats and thermals; no way in hell I would wear this to a gathering of friends), we head over to GP’s. It’s a small collection of my favorite New Yorkers (some native, some not.) We eat, watch TV (old 80s videos on VH1 Soul followed by Jason’s Lyric aka one of the worst movies ever made), and crack jokes. It’s the perfect wind-down to get me back in the mood to grind today.
Now if I could only get to Manhattan.
Happy New Year, folks.