Thursday, February 19, 2009

Comicbook Rockstar . 7 – Seventh Street

No apologies.

that burden

Ive been busy changing everything once again. The brief hiatus of this column has seen me through some strange times. I left for the Boston Comicon last September as a vegetarian, non-smoking, New York boy. I had just made my NYC status official after having lived in NYC for a year.

That Thursday morning before the con I finally visited the top of the Empire State Building. It was raining and I was there with my ex Diana. We were trying to make a nice day of it but the weather would have none of that. It was grey and rainy and windy. But still, we smiled, and we tried to make it a happy moment. Two friends parting. She bought me a I heart NY t-shirt. I left for Boston that night.


I came back from Boston and I was suddenly hungover and living in New Jersey. My sincerest thanks to J & Jong for putting me up. Shout outs to Erin, Sarah, Steph, and Laura (What up L-diddy?). In NJ it seems my sense of direction is completely wrong in more ways than one. North was South. South. North. Last year, I reversed, and now, I had inverted.


Meat. It was turkey. It sucks. I wanted to be a vegertarian. I really did. I had a Buddhist like mindset about it all. I did it for two years having given up at the foodcourt of the mall where Dawn of the Dead was filmed. Chris and I were sitting there having just gotten our usual mid-day Pittsburgh Con lunch. The Chinese joint chicken special. You know. Free sample?! Well, one particular piece was just about the foulest little chunk of flesh that was ever consumed. Im easily traumatized by food, so that with a hundred hours of PETA video brainbashing I was eager to stop eating animals.

And I held out. For awhile. But when J brought those damn Starbucks sandwiches back to the apartment, well, I lit up a smoke and ate a damn turkey sandwich by god. Six years of not smoking gone in an instant. I know it seems bad, but something told me I needed to do this. And more.

That Night - New Years Day

Nights spent on Jareds floor. Cold in the heat, hot in the cold. Im still drunk as Jared tries to lift my head and slip a pillow underneath it. But Im done. Were out on the weekends as the Young Turks, Disciples of Strange; the East Village Kings. 7305. Lucys. Black & Tan.


Days spent with a family. The Estes. Ben, Lee & Jen. I think thats how it goes on the answering machine. I love them dearly. When I had nothing and nowhere left to go, they took me in and loved me as one of their own. Nate and I became blood brothers; Jedi & Padawan, Padawan & Jedi. I slept in Bens room while he was away in Ireland. Thank you Ben. I hope you had fun over there and I want to smoke my stogie with you when you get back.

Ben's Moustache


Nate Rocks

Lee & Jen. Man, what a couple. They laugh, they love, they drink, they puke, they host, they fight, they welcome, they teach, they believe, they wrestle; theyre family. It was an amazing honor and privilege to see them turn a house into a home. THANKS AGAIN for allowing me to be your humble guest who did his best to clean up and not be a bother.

the Estes

I knew I was family when I was doing shots with Jen and saw Lee naked. Thanks to the Estes and Hettel families who welcomed a sad soul into their holiday festivities. It was nice to feel like family again. Yay! Presents!

Too bad Im broke. Unemployments gone and Im trying to figure out a way to have enough money for gas to get to any job that may call back, and then hopefully out to NYC to go out drinking and maybe dancing but probably puking, although possibly scoring. Christmas comes with a double paycheck and money from my parents. Thank you to you both who have saved a slacker son from complete financial failure.

Happy New Years! Twothousandsix?!! Damn. Youll be thirty this year. I moved to NYC on my 28th birthday. Now I was suburban Jersey, living on the fault line of ghetto and kingdoms, much like where I grew up in Wheatley Heights. East Orange felt like an old, long lost, childhood home.

Three months in the Garden State and I am blessing my beloved mother every day as the EZPass gets me around New Jersey, to my job and straight back into Manhattan. A job that I soon quit; a graphic design job with Alphagaphics, and then start a customer service training for Cingular. Its a good time, hanging out with a bunch of characters, and getting paid to draw in MSPaint and conquer that most wicked of PC games, Solitaire. Gotta hit the phones after a few weeks.


So I quit, just a few days after I go out on a thirty-six hour Brooklyn bound date during the blizzard of 06. Meganificent. I'm nearly completely broke but I have one last paycheck from Cingular. This money is spent on a small food purchase at Target, a tank of gas, and the rent for my new apartment. On Seventh Street.

I move out. On my own. Well, sorta. With a roommate. Not a girlfriend. For the first time since I was twenty one years old, I had my own space to do with as I please. I decorated it with the essentials, aka whatever fit in my Eclipse. Lee & Jen drive me out a mattress, sheets, pillows, and a blanket. Its the epicenter.

My 15 Powerbook and Dell Inspiron 2600 (may as well be Atari 2600) sit at the foot of the bed. Chow Yun Fat is on the wall by this window, next to a portrait Chris drew of me as Wulong. By the other window I have trinkets, including a superball, bottle caps, stones, Ninja Monkeys, a Green Lantern power ring, my sunglasses, two Flash figures, and a Buddha.


Invisible Badge Flash Pin

Power Ring Super Ball Bottle Cap

Ace King Ninja Monkey

Buddha Be

Dirty laundry pile is straight along the wall, while the clean clothes are a mound before me. My jackets (including my high school leather jacket with Aerosmith airbrushed on the back, the last birthday gift given to me by my Grandma) now hang in the closet beneath a shelf full of CDs, VCDs, DVDs, copies of Liquid Fury, and a humble library of graphic novels & paperbacks. Another smaller shelf just above the closet holds my cowboy hat, a beautiful vase courtesy of MB, and my Curious George stuffed animal; purchased on September 21, 1976 for a bouncing (oddly yellow) baby boy named Kurt Joseph Christenson.

So here I am. Brand new. Spun around. Made whole.

Things the new Kurt enjoys:
His own space.
New York City. Daily.
Having Netflix again.
Rod Stewart.
Downloading comics.
Scrubs. Finally being able to see Oldboy. And Serenity.
That should have been up there under Netflix.
My new haircut. Supercuts. St. Marks.
I need a new one already.
Muy Thai. Tai-chi.
Lifting weights in the mirror.
Admitting embarrassing things.
Getting breakfast.
Making lunch.
Affording dinner.
Buying rounds.
Lady Strange.
The Faces.
Horse the Band!
My old job back. More money, less hours.
Just had a week off.
iPod shuffle.
The Cinematic Underground.
Jurassic 5
Adult Swim on Demand.
12 oz. Mouse
Downloading comics.
Teen Titans. Comics.
Getting things written.


And to end things on a more literate note, heres Shakespeares Sonnet 7 which I received earlier today from my Sonnet-a-day email:


Lo! in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way:
So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,
Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.


Write or Die.


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