#52 | material goods
this weekend passed in the blink of an eye, and I indulged in too much weed and spent too much money.
on friday night, my friend and I serendipitously went to flushing, got baked, ate noodles and ginger milk pudding, and then watched a new wuxia movie at tangram. after exiting the theater, we naturally wanted to discuss the movie, so we had late-night dim sum at a place open until 4 am. I asked my friend what his favorite dim sum dishes were, and he said taro puff, but it wasn't on the menu. have you had radish cake? I asked. if you like taro puff, you'll probably like that (I guess because it's also a root vegetable and also fried lol). he loved it.
on the train ride home at 2:30 am, which was delayed by a belligerently drunk man refusing to get off the tracks, I finished reading Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar. I actually really didn't like that book, but I was happy to have finished it, and doing so on the 7 at the end of a long night just felt right—like obligatorily finishing a glass of wine just for the sake of getting more intoxicated.
I slept in as late as I could. one of my best friends came to visit nyc for approximately 36 hours. she's one of my few friends who also likes weed, so when we're together we always get wonderfully baked and wander around the city. she had a tattoo apartment in the afternoon, though, so I passed time by playing guitar and going for a quick run to a very popular matcha place in my neighborhood. unfortunately it did live up to the hype lol. I hate when that happens!
we got vietnamese food for dinner, followed by hot tea, running to catch the bus, gazing at the manhattan skyline completely shrouded in fog, a cocktail bar, and then finally heading to my childhood friend's party to celebrate his acceptance into medical school. he was so drunk and happy and I was sobering up and admiring his smile. daylight savings came and went. I felt it, I said, to his amusement. in the air. the time, shifting.
on sunday, I slept in as late as I could, again, and then my friend and I tried to make the most of her last 5 hours. we had brunch, split a joint, browsed a couple bookstores, got matcha lattes, browsed expensive home goods, spent a lot of money, and then all of a sudden we were hugging at the curb and saying goodbye.
time always passes beautifully when I’m high! everything is magical and falls perfectly into place. some weekends, especially with friends, I just give in to spending money and following my impulses. yes I'll get a matcha, with oat milk please. a used paperback copy of a book I've been wanting to read. a cute cup for my friend's birthday gift. an artisanal chocolate bar for my mom. oh I've been looking for something just like this, I say over and over. I just want to feel a little happy, to treat myself well.
it all makes me feel so silly and naughty to spend frivolously, like a lemur collecting shiny objects. but I need spoiling, I proclaim to myself. we used to lavish each other with affection, and her absence hurts. I need to be happy, and I'm clinging to something that brings me momentary joy—on top of sleeping and eating well and exercising and socializing. I need it all, and I can have it all, right? but then I get home, and it doesn't matter whether I spent money or not, or if I went on a run, or if I saw my friends, because the abyss in my heart is cavernous. everything I do to take care of myself then seems futile. I'm taking good care of myself, so when's the rest supposed to come, I keep wondering.
but maybe—just maybe—in a couple days, I'll open that $20 bag of soba-cha I bought on saturday and brew myself a cup. it will lull me to sleep like a stupid baby, and I'll think, yeah. I did that.