We kicked off the 4th of July on a rooftop in Williamsburg. It was Sunday night and the view could break your heart. There were DJs and pretentious avant-garde videos projected on the side of the building. Rumor had circulated that the party was listed in Time Out, which made everyone even more excited to be there. It had been going on since three that afternoon, and had hit a lull between all the afternoon barbecuers and the nighttime party people by the time my friends and I got there.
After a few drinks, Dave and I got ambitious and convinced Charlie and Noah to come to The Park with us for Jonny McGovern's Rambles party. On the way, we had a whole subway car all to ourselves, which is so much more fun and exciting than it may sound. The Park was huge and so pretty. We vowed to come more often. I ran into my other friend Dave and ran around with him trying to find his bag and the boy he wanted to hit on, until he abruptly disappeared, breezing out of my night just as unexpectedly as he breezed in. Two different people told me how much they like my new haircut, and someone else asked me to ghost write their autobiography, which, of course, was occasion for me to yell at them.
Upstairs, I noticed some guy checking me out as I was dancing. I don’t remember being very drunk, but for some reason this guy was a complete blur. He was bald, but it was hard to tell how old he was in the dark. He was wearing a dark t-shirt and he kept moving, so it was hard to get a good indication of what his body was like. Maybe that was his plan. A Britney Spears song came on, one of the naked sweaty video ones, and he grabbed me and we started dancing. Even close up I couldn’t tell what he looked like.
Suddenly, I felt graceful and sort of coldly sexy, not unlike what I imagine Britney tries to convey in her naked sweaty videos. I ground my hips into his, smirking and letting my hair fall into my face. I had absolutely no interest in this guy beyond making him want me. I wanted him to clutch me, grab hold, cling. I wanted to feel him getting hard as he pressed against me. I wanted him to think that he had me, that he was taking me home tonight. And then I slipped away, disappearing into the crowd like a sadistic Cinderella.
Sudden Romantic Melancholy
The next night, Rae and Erin and Charlie and Kiki came all the way to Bed-Stuy to watch the fireworks from my rooftop. We could see about five different displays from where we were. They were going off in every direction you turned. Rae asked us all what we wanted to be independent from on Independence Day, and I had no idea.
It must have been all the rooftops and the views and fireworks, or maybe it was just the fact that I was stoned, but after everyone left I started to feel really romantic in a melancholy kind of way. Screw Valentines Day, the 4th of July is, for my money, the most romantic day of the year. There’s just something about it being summer and sort of lazy and watching twilight slip into darkness, and then watching the darkness explode in these amazing colors. It’s the fireflies and the glow of citronella candles. It really got to me this year.
I sat in my borrowed apartment and dimmed the lights, and I actually had a vision: I was in an apartment with a lot of quirky antique furniture and a worn Oriental rug and an actual record player that hissed and popped gently. There were candles and glasses of wine, and the smell of jasmine tea. "If There is a Chance" by the Cardigans was playing and I was slow dancing with someone, but I couldn’t quite picture who.
I went to bed feeling a little lonely and uncomfortable.
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