Babe I already miss you

I really, really miss New York. I can't even explain how bad I want to go out there, even if it means paying for it (somehow) myself, and actually take it all in this time. As some of you may recall, my mom and I took a trip to New York two summers ago as a sort of "Fuck it, dude, let's go bowling" kind of moment. She was going stir crazy. I just wanted to go somewhere cool, put another notch on my belt, and get my lip pierced. But the first few days we were there, I was a hurricane of unpleasant emotion. I was convinced that everyone in New York hated me. I was overcome by the unfailing smell of bum pee. And I had decided, because of a false sense of security, that I didn't need to go to college. So when my mom demanded we hoof the twenty or so blocks down to the NYU campus, I yawned and asked when we could go back to the hotel. If this same thing were to happen now, I think my reaction would be something more like a kid in the world's biggest Lego store, being handed a chocolate fudge sundae by a Power Ranger, and then getting to kick a Power Ranger in the nuts.

Being that I'm older and wiser, and more likely to cream myself if given the chance to go back into Strand bookstore, I think I'm getting closer to feeling the way my mom did when she decided we were off.

I'd like it to be summer, most of all. I'd like it to be summer, so I could go on hipster photo walks with my friend David, and hang out outside, and play shows in Elan's backyard, which is so holy perfect for backyard shows. I want to walk barefoot in grass to get the mail and ride my bike down to the Trax, though if all goes according to plan, I won't have to, thanks to the Utah Department of Motor Vehicles.

The newest addition to the Brighton C. Metz tools of art company is a beautiful Pentax camera given to me as an early birthday present. This may not mean anything to a lot of people, but the depth of field is uhh-mazing. I wish I would have had it for the last wedding I attended. I also wish I would have had it for the Boy of Bark/Tedronai Project/Birdmonster show at Kilby, the photo projects I was assigned in last year's digital photography class, and of course, New York City. I'm excited to continue carrying it on my hip forever and ever, until I can no longer afford film for it, or, more likely, I accidentally knock into something and the lens shatters.

When I brought it to my grandparents' house this weekend, my grandpa took a good look at it and announced that he once had one just like it, back in Vietnam. (My grandfather's a Vietnam veteran. One of the stories about it is that he went out for his tour, and upon his return, found that his super super awesome red convertible was sold by his mom's boyfriend.) But, he said, when he came back, there was a thin layer of fungus growing around the lens and made it difficult to take pictures. Just imagine that, will you? You dig out your camera from your war backpack to find green fuzz ringing your camera's lens. It sounds like the most artsy thing that could ever happen to photography.

Today's title is brought to you by Andy, who showed me this song by the Kooks. It's really sweet, really British, and it fits in a vague kind of way. Just lately, all the things that have happened lately have struck. My great-grandma is dead. We're playing the Avalon. I'm almost sixteen years old. Jonney and I are no longer. It all feels pretty surreal, I guess. And I'm ready to go back to Union Square.