NYC Diary #33
MONDAY
6:13 a.m. So hungover from a punk show the night before but somehow make it to Equinox, lift, slay the rowing machine, and jerk off. Can the day be over?
I really wish I had been in a band. Or that my parents had actually given a fuck about my creative interests as a kid because I loved piano. They thought I hated it because I never practiced or did well with the pieces I was assigned. I just made up my own (usually dissonant) shit. And they were like, well, no one needs to hear that. They were clearly so wrong. I have so much rage toward a lot of it but rage is only useful if it’s used creatively.
Here is Alec from last night. His band is called Epoxy. He’s one of the Bacaro boys too.