Las Aventuras de Marco Gana 3: Poetry and Dance

Yesterday was the continuation of a string of just completely beautiful days weather wise. So it was a perfect day to go out and enjoy life.

Now the crazy thing is that I almost didn't even get to get out yesterday... my mom sent a message to do some chores, and being the good boy that I am, I did the chores before I started to prepare for today's festivities. This almost resulted in me not going out because she said that she wanted to go out, and with my brother Kevin having to go to work, this meant that I would be the one to have to stay in and watch my little brother.

FORTUNATELY! My mother came up with a back up plan that would have her take Justin out with her if she went out. Which was awesome. She didn't have to do that. But she did. I really love my mother. Like, she really didn't have to come up with that back up plan. And due to that backup plan, I had an awesome night. I really have to do something special for my mother soon... and I'm not going to wait until May to do either.

Anyway, I stop by my friend Janaya's BBQ. It's a simple gathering of family at the moment, not many people my age are there yet. Unfortunately for that, I had to go soon. I dropped off my basketball, ate a few burgers, some chips, and had some Dr. Pepper for the first time in years... and I left. And I kinda felt bad for leaving... like, I felt like "a typical nigga," so to speak. Furthermore, I realized where I was going and was thinking to myself, Clearly I ate a smidget too much...


Oh well. I hope my local buddies understand. I see them all the time, but I don't get to see Paola much. Nor do I get to ready my poetry much. So this was an opportunity that I felt I should not miss. It was also an opportunity that I thought I was going to be ridiculously late for, but MTA just simply agreed with me and allowed me to get there much earlier than I thought I would get there.

Note: Wishful thinking kicks ass. I think there is a power in my mind... a power I'm not yet fully harnessing, but... eh, whatever... continuing.

So I get there at about 8:30pm and the poetry readings hadn't begun yet. I had some or-derbs (that's not how you spell it... it's a French word that I have no idea how to spell), a Smirnoff, met some people, overall quiet like I usually am around new people though, and just chilled till the poetry readings started.

The poetry readings were pretty awesome. There was definitely some talent in there. Basically, the readings were done, filled with emotion and word play. The format of the readings were such that everyone would read one poem, then we'd take a break, then we'd read another poem, then another break, and so on. The Bilini sisters, who hosted the show, started most of the rounds with some pretty intense poetry. What I found really interesting about their poetry was how they would have a theme or a new perspective that I wouldn't have ever thought about. Most of my poetry is simply an outlet of some kind of feeling creatively expressed, but they, amongst others, took it to a new level of subject and perception that I definitely didn't see coming and might explore at a later date.

There was also this poet. He was literally a poet. Like, literally, down to his name. His name is El Poeta and he's pretty awesome. He recited my favorite poem of the night, "Rocket Ship." It was about how a young man sees his dreams and builds a rocket ship to reach his dreams and as he grows older he uses his rocket ship he reaches his dreams but then when he gets real old he realizes that he left everything that he loved for something totally different and is wondering whether or not his rocket ship was worth the ride. I'm obviously not that old yet, but I understood the concept, because I understand that ambition to be more than you ever were, but at the same time, I can't imagine not being able to live with certain things, such as family, friends, and various traditions... things that may change or even disappear the moment you hit the big shiny lights.

There were also poems about gluttony, envy, and lust, poems about sex, loves from the past, present, and future, there was a haiku, there were poems about personal problems and other people's problems... the variety was great. Speaking of variety, it's wasn't all poetry. We had some stand up comedy come up, but it was short lived because he had family matters to tend to, and then we had this one guy come up and simply talk about life. He said something about how a panhandler swindled him for $20 because he was trying to be a good guy and make the lady's day, and then he talked about how women label each other (which they do).

I had read some poetry myself. I brought 5 pieces, but only ended up reading three. One was titled "If Nothing is Forever," one was titled, "Critical," and the other... piece... I read... has multiple titles. In the end, they said it was more like a "monologue-y" "stream of conscious." Which made a whole lot more sense considering the way it came about via the intense feelings that I was experiencing when I wrote it.

One thing I noticed was that my "performance" of my poetry wasn't as intense and as engaging as the other works. I also noticed that my poetry (the first two pieces at least) weren't as long as the other pieces being up there. It was kinda one of those things where I'm like "Wow, am I under dressed for this?" But I thought about it and said, "Fuck that, here I go." I got pretty solid reactions though. All of the poetry was good, so everyone got a round of applause, but admittedly, there were some amazing, amazing pieces read that deserved the hyped up ovations that they received. Still, at the very end, I was able to hear some more personal reactions to my material, and they were very well received. :) It's always nice to hear when people you just met sincerely tell you that what you do... what you create... what you put your heart and soul into... is good.

In between the poetry was food, drinks, music, and bailando. (dancing). My stomach managed to digest enough of the food from the BBQ to be able to try the lasagna, which was really good. It also reminded me that I need to try and learn how to cook lasagna. Actually, I need to try and learn how to cook a lot of things, but that's a different story. Anyway, the lasagna was good. The drinks were good, but I kept it simple because I knew I had a pretty intense trip to make back home (from the Bronx back to Rosedale? late at night? yeah, no way I was OD'ing... I need maximum alertness).

The music... I heard reggae, reggaeton, merengue (!), bachata (!), and probably other stuff. I did a bit of dancing... LIES! I did more than a bit of dancing. I got to dance with Paola and/or Katalina and the Bilini sisters. Paola explained some of the basic differences between salsa, bachata, and merengue, and Maria showed me some basics of merengue. Now? I pretty much merengue like a pro. Okay, not really, but apparently I learned it pretty quickly. I didn't get to merengue with Paola because she was teaching some other guy how to dance, but he totally, totally need the lessons. lol. Still, it puts me one step closer towards my dream of having a Hispanic wife... the idea of getting my wife mad and having her angrily yell at me in Spanish? Nothing short of a turn on.

... nice! ;-)

Like all good things, the night came to an end, and I went home. The trip was long, but quiet, and I got home.

el finito.

The Adventures of Mark Wins 1-2: The Night the World Ended

Now before I continue with the many "punched in the face" jokes that we came up with last night due to traumatization, I want to continue on with how good Pacha was a night club. Three floors of music, different music on each floor, and ultimately, the DJs were awesome. Black DJs could definitely learn a thing or two from whoever was DJing at Pacha last night. They didn't interrupt with bullshit promotion and/or sound effects (although there was this time while I was on the first floor, a giant, loud ass horn blew while the smoke and crack lights were in full effect... scared the shit outta me). They just let the music play. Too many black DJs come on and stop the music because they wanna tell us this or they wanna tell us that... does it look like I give a fuck? Play the fucking music and let me dance, dammit. These DJs know what they were doing, and I really do wish black DJs would do what these guys did on a regular basis.

Also, while the place was packed, there's always room to navigate when you're not on the dance floor. I think that's a very key feature when it comes to night clubs, especially in an environment where dancing with the wrong girl can get you punched in the face. 

Now, back to the story of the trip home. We basically get to Times Square, and we chill there for a while because Eddie doesn't feel like getting punched in the face while waiting for the bus in Jamaica, which we concluded is a slightly more dangerous area than Times Square, on the final trip home, so we uses his phone to find a good sync between the train and the bus. We continue with the punched in the face jokes as we wait in Times Square. As we walk to the train station, some guy walks by us at an awkward angle, and Eddie playfully threatens that he woulda punched them in the face if they came at them any wronger. We wait for the train, we get on the train, the train is moving at breakneck snail's pace, and Eddie threatens to punch the conductor in his face for moving the train so slowly. 

Eventually, this one guy gets on the train, and he starts snoring. But he doesn't just snore. No, that would be too easy. He sounds like he's inhaling squirrels or something. I start laughing because there was this one guy that was rather startled by the snoring/squirrel-inhaling that the guy was doing, and I continue to laugh when Eddie said "That's the kind of snoring that gets you punched in the face."

We get off the train, hop on the bus, more insignificant jokes about face punching and traumatization, and we eventually part ways. I do remember him asking me if I was going next week because I mentioned that Paola said that she wanted to go next week, and I remember saying something along the lines of, "I'm not sure yet. Depends on who she's bringing, when they're trying to go, and whether or not it rains. Also, I'm not tryna get punched in the face."

And I get home. Finally. The epic day known as The End of the World finally came to an end.

Final random thoughts

• Early bird gets the worm.
• I really wanted a picture with that blue sword. :(
• Parades often attract tons of hot chicks.
• Marko and Katalina need more encounters. (stop asking questions)
• Music is awesome.
• There was totally some guy that reminded me of a fusion between Undertaker and Randy Savage. RIP
• Wait, wut did i do thar?
• The game store and comic store that I randomly discovered on St. Mark's needs to be added to the Team Epic Takeover Tour of Summer 2011. 
• Certain people should not be allowed to wear Spider-Man costumes. Spider-Man is not short, stumpy, and fat.
• "You were shooting hadokens?"
• "You talk?"
• 99 cent pizza is the wave.
• Wishful thinking is wishful, but then again, even 1% is a chance.
• 1% is also a chance to get punched in the face.
• I just might have to invest in salsa lessons.

The Adventures of Mark Wins 1-1: The Day the World Ended

So I decided that I should blog about the many adventures that I have, and said blogs dealing with them will, from this day forth, be called, "The Adventures of Mark Wins." I will blog about them whether they are solo adventures, adventures with a partner in crime, or adventures with a team.

Interestingly enough, the adventure of May 21st (aka THE END OF THE WORLD!!!!!!!) was so ridiculously huge that I'm breaking it up into two parts.

So I woke up at 8am, because there was a dance parade that my friend Paola invited me to. I had looked up some details and figured that in order to maximize the entire day, I needed to get there early so that I could take advantage of critical features.

It was a nice sunny day, and getting there was easy. I got there, and Paola says she wants a Pacha T-shirt (she's not quite there yet). So I attempted to get a T-shirt. Total madness for attempting to obtain a T-shirt. Complete bum rush, the dudes that were handing out the shirts were getting ridiculously upset, and people are stupid. Whatever. Guy randomly throws up a shirt, I use my a taste of my phenomenal rebounding skills that I learned when playing basketball, and I snatch a shirt out of the sky forcefully (because despite the fact that I had the superior grasp, people felt the need to try and snatch it. No, okay?) <---Win.

So I escape that crowd of madness, and confirm that Paola has a shirt. Nice. Then I snatch up another one, theoretically for me. Then I snatch up free tickets to Pacha's official after party. (lol... oh, we're gonna get to that after party in Part 2). While I wait for Paola, a number of people ask me if I want to sell the shirts. I was definitely not selling the shirt I rebounded for Paola, and I wasn't going to sell mine, but then I got the thinking... if these people are willing to buy a shirt that I know I totally wouldn't be willing to buy, it probably means much more to them then it does to me. So I sold my shirt. Made $5. Hindsight says I shoulda sold it for $10. Team Epic Time Travel Machine will have me go back in time, hi-jack the box, and sell them for $20 a piece. Whatever. Paola finally shows up, and THEN the Pacha float mobilizes. (background info: Paola brought Miami's sunshine with her on Saturday to the dance parade, thus Paola made Saturday. lol)

Paola is quite the dancer and quite the photographer. We're jamming through the streets, taking pictures, seeing and savoring the sights and the music. The music was fucking awesome. We were floating back and forth between two to three floats, vibing and jamming to the music. It was fucking awesome (yes, I know I'm repeating myself). We would eventually settle with the Pacha float, where I had noticed a glimpse of Katalina, so Marko Man had a brief introduction to her and ultimately, Marko likes what he saw. (wait, who is Katalina? You're asking too many questions....) We also collected a retarded amount of free after party tickets... we had 10 altogether by the end.

Spoiler Alert: Paola doesn't actually go with me to the after party. :(

So from there, she eats, she claims that she hasn't seen a Mr. Frosty ice cream truck in too long, I buy her a snow cone because I don't like it when women leave me via disappointment, and we part ways.

I stay in the city, and call up some people to see who wants to go to Pacha with me for free. Only one that wants to and/or can go is my dude Eddie, who I hadn't seen in a few months. He says he'll be there eventually, but before 11pm. Cool. So I'm out and about in the city. I find this awesome comic book store that I'll have to revisit some day, and I also find this awesome video game store that has a fuckton of classic games and systems. Both are on St. Mark's place. Epic coincidence. I eventually get up to the area of Times Square, and then I decide, with nothing else to do, to go and do some recon to see where Pacha is. It's quite a walk, but you can't miss it if you follow directions.

What I noticed about Pacha's location is that it's merely a few blocks away from Pier 84. I never even knew that Pier 84 existed, and my gosh, it was such a beautiful sight.

And at that point, that when I start thinking about how I need a chick that's just as epic as I am to be with so that I can share these amazing adventures. A lot of people say that New York isn't the greatest place to live, so on and so forth. We wonder why New York attracts so many tourists because we've been living here for years and we're on the inside looking out. We're always rushing to get somewhere by car, bus, or train, and we miss out on exactly how beautiful and amazing this city actually is. Like, half the awesome things that I find in any given borough of NYC comes from either leaving my comfort zone to explore a new area or simply just walking a given path when I could have taken a bus or train. The sunset that I saw was no different... and it reminded me that the End of the World is not a time or a date... it's a place... a location. And I need a young lady that will travel with me to the End of the World... but maybe not yet? I don't even know anymore...

Well, that's the end of part 1... stay tuned... the next part of this adventure has our experience at Pacha Nightclub... which is... quite the experience.