We stopped at a liquor store on New Lots Avenue. Darnell pulled over to the curb and I went to go buy the vodka while he waited in the car. I got back in the car and we took off blasting Madonna's "Vogue" through East New York. Both of us were aware of the absurdity of the scene. We were soon on the Belt Parkway, Jamaica Bay off to the left, Riis beach so close.
We met up with Nick and Nik on the beach, drank some of the cheap vodka we had bought, mixed it with Arizona's versions of Arnold Palmers, a dollar a bottle from the bodega by my house.
The waves were vicious yesterday, big and relentless, one after the next, knocking me down over and over again, the current quickly dragging me down the shore. Normally the beaches of New York City are fairly calm affairs with mild waves that would hardly knock you off balance. This was a dizzying experience to be tossed around by these waters. I couldn't get enough of the waves. I dove under the ones that seemed truly frightening, rode a few, jumped over some - had an absolutely exhausting and amazing time dancing with the Atlantic Ocean yesterday. Maybe this is because of Isaac so far south churning up the ocean - I really have no idea what was causing this, but it was exhilarating.
When I dove under the waves, I would listen to the sound around me, wait to hear that crashing sound break right above me. It was such a beautiful noise and I kept diving under and under again wanting to keep hearing the power of this water, of nature's force.
On the sand, I smoked a lot of cigarettes and talked about Florida and about boys and about tattoos. We picked out our favorite boys on the beach, the ones we would like to have sex with. I watched with Nik as one of the guys behind us clearly got a blowjob underneath a towel.
The sun got lower, the beach got emptier. We left.