born to bell

Essie and I entered the party around ten, the space was an artist studio and we soon met one of its residents: a tattoo artist, whom I heard for the first time in my life use “I was born to [do body adornment]”. At age 26, he was quite covered in tattoos, including a bit of his forehead, and on his leg there was a tiger of his own doing, though he said his current work was much better.

Pretty soon, everyone was outside, listing to some band singing sorrow with a banjo and violin. After that came a performance art piece which nearly ended someone getting hit in the head with a large piece of wood, and then dancing to the Wig’s dj jams. The last performance was by The Bell Cycle, which was really quite good – a music duo, both sang, he was on drums, electronics and guitar; she was on upright bass and for the final piece switched to bass guitar.

After that Essie and I were hungry so we meandered over and found a Mexican food place. The young waitress fretted about whether or not to give the drunken men more beer, and the loud music did not drown out the hoots aimed at the strippers upstairs. We ate nachos as the Virgin Mary looked down upon us from the wall.

             In the subway, a man played guitar and sang, alternating between English and Spanish. A young man greeted him as he walked onto the subway - apparently on drunken night they had split a pizza, him feeding the musician by hand as he continued to strum the guitar. And this is how strangers talk to each other at 4am in The City.