By Brad Walsh [Archives]

I was going to write something about how New York nightlife is growing more stagnant and businesslike by the day, and that everyone complains of the same but nobody would actually do anything new if presented with it, but I’ve pretty much just said everything I would have to say about that in this first sentence. Then I started to write about a girl who was rude to me on Friday, and how a lot people have shitty politics when it comes to being friends with the exes of friends, but it seems unlikely that me saying anything about that will prevent the inevitable fact that people are going to start peeing in the corners of the bar where they don’t want their rivals to stand. So instead, I’m going to write something nicer; it’s never too late to be grateful…

I have incredible friends who forego cheek kissing phony ladies in the hallways of clubs for taking in stray dogs, running marathons for soldiers, hand-making birthday presents for friends, and showing the fuck up when it counts. Cooking a meal with you and bringing something. Being happy just watching TV on the couch without pictures taken or free drinks solicited. All of that can be fun, but it’s nice to have people around who can have fun both in and out of that.

Anna said “you’re finally at that point!” I can refuse jobs. My photos are appearing in huge magazines, the most famous newspapers in the country, crazy places that I don’t mention on this site but that still make my stomach rumble as I call my mom to tell her. Travel. Strangers going out of their way. Commissioned music work, ungodly sums. I’m not worrying about the rent. For the first time in my life I’m doing okay enough to not worry. Though of course, now I worry about it all going away. It must sound like I’m bragging, and while I do want people to know, I’m more astonished than anything. The whole “I never went to school for this” thing again. Vindication, appreciation. This guy is still my hero, no matter what third parties may have to say about it.

Matters of the heart, threads here and there. Happy for even the painful things, because there’s so much that just happens. It’s good that these things happen, I think, for feeling alive.

…this got vague, huh?