Killing Time

East Village--alone--for the first time in what may be nearly 2 years. I used to kill so much time here in the East Village. I used to have so much more time to kill. I stand here trying on thumb rings that used to be $5-$8.

When I used to have time to kill, I would stop at that cafe on Second Street and Second Avenue that has internet access. I would travel down the information super highway for my allotted ten minutes with coffee sloshing around in my "to go cup." Then I would skip over to the used CD stores on First Avenue, the one on St. Marks, the one on Second Avenue. The usual stop in Adramada Tattoo Parlor wishing I had the money for that tattoo I always wanted. Thank God I didn't have the funds, because that is not the tattoo I would want now. I would proceed down St. Marks making a stop at each and every street vendor's cubby. The one's who sell cheap jewelry and sunglasses. I was always on the hunt for the perfect pair of "faux" eyeglasses. I thought wearing fake glasses was a perfect accessory when going for that geek-sheik or Clark Kent look.

This thumb ring that I want is priced at $15. What? What happened to the $8 ring that I would eventually talk down to $5. I mean the ring practically bends and molds to fit your finger. It is only one step away from being a gumball machine prize. $15!!!!???? I remember when....Oh my God, I just said, "I remember when..." That sounds so old. But in a city like New York, "I remember when," can be 2 years ago. This city is in constant change. This city reminds us all that the grass is greener. That we can always have something better, do something more, make something easier.

As I walk through the East Village, I look like a tourist who has never been to this area of Manhattan. I walk slowly and deliberately, soaking up all that I pass by and that passes me. I look in the windows of all the shops. I pass by familiar landmarks and try to remember a memory of times gone by. I wonder what happened to that fantastic thrift store, 'FiFi Le Frock,' on 9th Street, and the guy who ran the place? He had sexy arm hair and always the perfect funky, trendy, vintage look going on. What happened to Wonder Bar? That restaurant IN PEDELLA is gone and replaced with a Starbucks. How did it go out of business? It was always so busy. I had my first dinner with Anthony there. I was still straight. He knew I was not. There are so many people with babies in the East Village now. Where is the cast of RENT?

I stop at Yaffa Cafe. A staple of the East Village, I believe. I hope my retreat into one of my East Village memories will stop my yearning for things gone and make me feel like the East Village and myself haven't disappeared. I order the sunshine burger platter. In 1997 it was priced at $5.95. It is now $7.95. I begin to think about more than just the East Village.

McCale's Pub on the northeast corner of 46th and 8th Avenue-- gone. The entire building McCale's sat under--gone! I performed in 3 shows, rehearsed numerous times, auditioned once, and sat in the audience of two shows, inside that building. Gone. In McCale's, I drank lots of beer post-theatre and ate lots of fried food pre-theatre. Dan and I would exchange casting notes over onion rings and $4 pints of Brooklyn Lager. When trying to pick a place to meet a friend in the Times Sqaure area that was cheap, McCale's was it. I saw John Lithgow and Billy Joel there once. Gone.

Galaxy Diner in Hell's Kitchen--gone. This place had the best lunch special for a kid who was making $8 an hour, standing out in the cold, passing out flyers to ANNIE GET YOUR GUN.

The list could go on. But, sitting here in Yaffa Cafe, I realize I made a mistake. Actually, I made the wrong assumption. I assumed coming here looking for fond memories would make me feel better. It only reminds me of how everything must change and nothing stays the same. My side of avocado was $1, now it is $2.25. It's a side of avocado. The music in Yaffa used to be new, unheard music. It used to consist of progressive bands and alternative artists that only cool, East Village, hipsters were in-the-know about. Now it is dance-esque tracks by Janet, Whitney, Celine, and Pink. I hate it here today.

When I walked to the back to use the restroom, I saw the section of tables that I believe to be where I sat for the first time at Yaffa. I was freshman in college. It was December of 1996. It was a group of 8-10 kids. We were so cool. So hip. So edgy. We wore black and leather, chains and piercings. I had yellow lensed glasses and black fingernail polish. We ordered mud cake and coffee. I hated coffee then, but it was so college to drink it. It was so New York to order it. I remember feeling, that night, accepted for being myself. Not my gay-self, just myself. I felt comfortable. I remember this event making me feel "right," for lack of a better word. I was in a cafe in NYC while in college with an eclectic group. We were speaking with our minds and hearts. We were speaking and thinking with reckless abandon. It hit me. This is where I am supposed to be. This is the yearning I never knew I had. I chose right. I was going to be happy. Happiness did exist. I was going to be myself for the first time of the rest of my life.

2006, I am here again. I am different. Yaffa is different. I feel uncomfortable here. I feel old. I feel forgotten. I feel lost.

I feel nostalgic.
I feel bigger.
I feel beyond this.
I feel new.

I step out of the bathroom to wash my hands in the smallest sink in the city. I look up at my reflection in the mirror while drying my hands. There, just over my shoulder, sits the younger version of myself. I am surrounded by all those crazy college folk. I look cute, comfortable, happy, and unaware of the change that will flood my life to come. I love my blue, polyester, vintage shirt. I miss it. The younger me makes eye contact with me through the mirror. I wink, smile and wave good-bye before returning to my new table, with my new thoughts, and my new journal.

March 21, 2006