As an adult your opportunities to participate in sleepovers diminish slowly over time. I am not sure if it has something to do with an unwillingness to sleep anywhere other than your own bed or if other people just don’t want to wake and feel obligated to make you eggs. It certainly seems that you lose friendships as you get older. Maybe we just become less interested in other people and youthful antics as we march toward that lonesome grave. Be that as it may, I found myself having a sleep over at Thom and Kiri’s place in Brooklyn over the weekend and it was all very highbrow. The initial plan was to work on a podcast and get a little writing done but it quickly derailed into dinner and discourse. We had drinks, talked religion, examined the economy, and discussed whether my native soil (America) or theirs (Australia) had a more backward and mentally crippled population. I believe we settled on it being a draw before I settled into their brand new couch for the night, surprised that it smelled like fresh linen instead of a textile plant. The sounds of the bar downstairs served as a strange form of white noise and faded away as I did.
I awoke from a night of mild substance abuse to what I believed to be the sounds of an old person choking to death. Then, as full control over my mind returned, I realized that the light outside was just starting to change and I second guessed it as some nearby couple’s morning intercourse. But something about the noise still didn’t sound quite right. Before I could sort it out, the loudest, most obnoxious, stupid goddamn pigeon in the entire world blasted itself against the window nearest to my head. The culprit behind the mystery noise had made himself known and he was about to work himself up into a cooing frenzy. While it isn’t as if birds know about sleeping in on Sundays, you would still not expect them to beat the sunrise just to make a bunch of loud sounds on windowsills. It didn’t even seem to offer him any logistical advantage, because there were no other birds around for over an hour. Why would any other bird even care that you were the very first one singing? No woman bird is going to be impressed that you woke up extra early and made a bunch of noise. They want you to fluff your feathers up the most, stand up the tallest, and do the right sort of twirling moves so you can separate them from the rest of the males (I looked it up).
Anyway, I genuinely hated this bird but not enough to do anything about it. I even had a moment where I almost felt sorry for him because he was desperately looking for a mate and no one seemed to want him. Then, just as my pity began to crescendo, a bunch of other pigeons showed up and starting fighting before a girl bird finally gave it up to him. I’ve often wondered what a bird penis looked like but there were no answers to be found in their brief copulation. I had a front row seat and it basically looked like he sat on her back and stopped making noise for a few seconds. It was in that moment that I wished there was some nosy neighbor that could have gotten a photo of me looking out the window into the empty gray lust of two pigeons. I have said this repeatedly but I really should hire a photographer to just follow me around.
When my hosts awakened, the birds had parted ways and I was scribbling nonsense into a black notebook. They fed me for the second time and we chatted over coffee. Their plan was to go to a second hand store and bring back furniture for their new place. Curious about it, I invited myself along. When we arrived the place was so full of treasures and junk that it was almost impossible to navigate. Getting items out to examine or purchase often required multiple sets of hands and a bit of faith that the entire building wouldn’t collapse under the weight of its many wonders. It had everything from Nazi daggers and early radios to busted tables, old toys, and Cadillac hubcaps from 1975. I found a book of modeling proofs from 2001 sitting on a pile of broken VHS tapes and wondered if that girl ever achieved her dream as I squeezed through the aisles. Then Thom excitedly grabbed a grotesque plastic statue of James Brown that we believed would sing and dance if you put batteries into it. The Russian woman at the desk knew the price of every table and chair we dug out but not the value of this tribute to the Godfather of Soul. The following minutes were essentially people in different accents asking how much this thing was going to be sold for. The Russian went and got a not quite middle-aged Jewish man that confessed that he believed James Brown would never ever sell. Presumably the owner, he yelled around to get the lady who brought it in to make an appearance. This woman, an over-weight Jamaican, said she wouldn’t let it go for less than seventy-five dollars and followed up with a claim that she had purchased it for three-hundred herself.
The store’s owner rolled his eyes and spoke up, “They aren’t buying this for that price.”
“Then they aren’t buying it.” She responded.
They both turned out to be right.
A little bit of manual labor later, we had pulled several chairs, a desk, a table, and a mirror down from the top floor. Getting it all back into their apartment proved to be more difficult than originally anticipated, so I took the first load and headed for the train so that they might make extra room for the second. During my transit, I doodled some crude looking birds having sex and made notes. Then I took a moment to ponder the meaning of friendship. The people in our lives that mean the most to us rarely bother with the passing of judgements or advice giving. Instead, they stand with you through hardships and allow you to share a moment in their life from time to time. We don’t require more than that. And when you find yourself liking a person without needing anything from them, it can feel like you’ve known them forever.
If you know someone like this I strongly urge you to spend a Saturday night or Sunday morning with them.
“The people in our lives that mean the most to us rarely bother with the passing of judgements or advice giving. Instead, they stand with you through hardships and allow you to share a moment in their life from time to time.”
I loved this. And now I’m going to make it a point to try to spend more weekend mornings with friends. Thank you.
(Also, I used to work in an office where I could see — and occasionally hear — pigeons going at it on the windowsill. I tried to keep a straight face during it, but rarely could.)
If it had been at work, I would have found it a welcome distraction.
Enjoy your friends.
I love adult sleepovers (and not just the sexy kind) it’s kind of nice to spend a night and morning with close friends. You can be silly and act like teenagers or kids again with the added benefit of being able to get drunk, crash out and have breakfast together the next day. You never really know someone till you have shared an early morning coffee.
I had heard about ducks having curled penises which amuses me no end. But I am basically a child in a grown ups body.
Ps. Australians rock
I think I can safely say that I like the sexy kind as well.
Read up as much as you can about duck penises. You will not regret it.
Sounds like you had a good time my friend! :)
Before my friends had kids we used to party, then I got the bed on the floor made of cushions which Darren hogged the only spare bed, leaving me with Andy’s snoring!!! :)
These days everyone else has a life other than me! :(
Still: Good memories! :)
God bless my friend! :)
Hopefully we are all lucky enough to accumulate good memories and even make a few more before old age sets in.
Thanks, as always, for reading Prenin.
How much for the Nazi dagger?
Also, did you know that the pigeon and the man on your album cover both say “Urp?”
Is it a word, or more of a sound?
I am really impressed that you looked up how male pigeons distinguish themselves from the rest o the…flock? That’s not right. A flock of pigeons.
It was marked at $399 at the store.
I’ve been on an urp kick.
Hi Matt! :)
Thanks for the visit and comment! :)
It’s a week away from my meeting with the MIND representative so I’m trying not to stress about it! :)
Yeah the weather is nuts!!! :(
Half of England is under water, some parts are cut off because the rail network is messed up and we’re expecting MORE rain Friday and into the weekend.
Apparently it’s the worst weather in 250 years and what’s hitting the USA is just as crazy!
Australia has 40’C days and winds fanning bushfires which are out of control.
All we need is a bad monsoon and that’ll be the entire planet fcuked… :(
God Bless! :)
I adore the way you write :) always inspires me and sends me off with a chuckle. Thanks
Love the art. You have weird dreams. Wasn’t that a dream?
No. This all actually happened.
I’m a terrible overnight guest. I feel obligated to be pleasant in the morning, which is against my nature. When I visit my family in Cleveland, I always stay in a hotel. Really. When did I become such a big baby?
That is some Wild Kingdom/Animal Planet shit you experienced. In Brooklyn, no less!
No pic of plastic James Brown? Post fail.
I have one but Thom’s included and I wouldn’t put it up without permission.
I found a video of the same statue though. It’s well over a foot tall.
Are you sure it wasn’t your snoring that got that pigeon going?
I don’t snore. I’ve asked around and the worst I’ve received was, “Sometimes you grind your teeth and you murmur like you have a lot of bad dreams. Mostly you are motionless and silent.”
I very much prefer my own bed…I have some friends with a 4 year old and she loves it when I come over to spend the night. I keep trying to convince her I should get her bed and she should be stuck on the couch, but I never can win against her logic or her smile. So, I stay on the couch that unfortunately smells like a couch and I wake up stiff and sore. I like the shift in perspective though — seeing someone rise and start their day in their own home gets you one step closer to seeing the real person.
I don’t have a lot to say about the pigeon love…or the duck penis comments. I hesitate to do a google search on duck penises in case any of my friends see my history…wouldn’t do much for my street cred. I was involved with a man with a bent penis…………
I enjoyed your post…thank you.
That second paragraph really kicked things into high gear.
I strongly recommend you google search duck penises. They are amazing.
I want to thank you for the laughter this post inspired, as well as for the reminder that we are all fortunate to have real friends. I may have to host a sleepover soon.
Also, I once witnessed avian lust amongst two small (insert name here)birds on a houseboat in Amsterdam. The male was so enthusiastic, he pushed both of them into the water, and the female was less-than-impressed: she flew off dripping and sqwaking what I can only imagine were rude comments about his lack of coordination and finesse. Poor guy. The whole episode took maybe a few minutes, but I still smile thinking about it.
you have got to have an insanely, mmmmm, versatile? google history
That’s a nice way to put it.
I once had a Pigeon break into my apartment (I may have left the window ajar…) and poop all over my roomate’s prized purple velvet couch — but she was an opera singer who practiced at 7am every day, so it was schadenfreude all the way.
Fun Fact; Birds poo and pee as one vile excretion, and so it really works into all the little nooks and crannies of a pricey velvet couch.
Such majestic creatures.
I usually do gagsy comments but I think this was quite quietly brilliant. The whole lazy-hazy-unhurried-anything-or-nothing-might-happen-ness of it all, perfectly captured. Thanks for it.