Baked in Brooklyn

[stirring orchestral music]

[scattered applause]

- Hi.

[feedback hums]

Ow.

Sorry, the lights--

hold on.

Okay.

That's better.

Hi.

So I'll have copies of the zine

after the reading.

If you want

to buy one, it's $8.

But, like, if you don't think

it's worth $8,

I'll probably just

give you one for free.

I wrote this about the summer

I sold weed through

an online classifieds site.

Oh, but I hate weed, though.

It makes me, like,

very uncomfortable and paranoid

and sort of fatalistic, I guess,

but every once in a while,

you know, someone

will get me to smoke,

and every time they do,

I think, like,

"Oh, this is the time

I'm gonna like smoking weed."

But then I do,

and I don't like it at all.

It's the worst always.

But I just couldn't remember

if I put that fact

into the story,

so I wanted to,

you know, tell you now

up front, I guess.

Okay, I'm wasting time,

so I'm gonna start reading now.

Here it goes.

"Last summer, I was working

for a consultant in Midtown

"mostly filling out

organizational charts

"and filing things and stuff.

"It was an objectively

crappy job,

"but my parents

were really proud of me

"because I had gotten a job.

"I was listening

to Toro y Moi a lot,

"and he has that line

where he says, 'I got a job.

"I do it fine.

Not what I want,

"but still I try.'

"That totally captured

how I felt.

"On the weekends, me and

friends mostly went biking

"and took hallucinogens

and benzodiazepines.

"We also went to some parties,

"and one night, I met a girl

at one of those parties.

"Meeting girls

isn't easy for me

"unless they come up to me,

"in which case I have no choice

but to meet them,

and that was how I met Kate."

[playful electronic music]

- Give her what she wants,

give her what she needs

A woman needs

- Eliza!

both:
Hey.

- I have something for you.

- Really?

- Yeah.

- What is it?

- It's a weird muscle relaxant.

I got it at the airport

in Mexico.

Are you happy?

- Very.

Thanks.

Ooh, it tastes good.

[lively rock music]

- Hey.

- Hi.

- Hi.

What makes you qualified

to change the playlist?

- What kind of qualifications

did the last guy have?

- This really isn't

about the last guy,

and who says it was a guy?

- Okay, well...

I write a music blog,

published on

a popular music reviews website.

I can send you my resume

if you prefer.

It lists all of

my tangible qualifications.

Maybe if you give me

your email address

or, you know, your phone number.

Whatever works for you re:

contact information

is fine for me--just,

you know, that I'd have it.

- So do you want to dance?

- Oh, yeah, no.

I don't really dance, per se.

- Like, you can't

or, like, you won't?

- I never know how into it

I'm supposed to get, you know,

and sometimes I get too into it,

and then I end up making

that intense dance face

where I sort of,

like, bite my lip,

and I--you know, just like--

You know, I'm sort of, like,

angry Bill Clinton.

It's not good.

And then the other option

is that, you know,

I'm not into it enough,

and I hold back.

Then I think everyone

around is probably thinking,

like, "Oh, that kid thinks he's

too cool to dance," you know?

- I'm pretty sure no one

would ever think that about you.

- Okay, well, thank you.

I think that probably means

it's about time

for me to stop talking,

because I've said enough--

- No, you were doing fine.

- Wow.

- Adequate even.

- Oh, my God.

- But I actually

really like this song, so,

like, are you ready to dance?

- Oh--

- Let's do it.

- You don't tip over

And you're so pretty

I want to be pretty

Can you carry me

'Cause I'm not heavy

[gentle acoustic guitar music]

- Okay.

Okay.

I can't do this.

- Okay.

Yeah, no, there was a certain

too-good-to-be-true element

about this whole thing anyway.

Why can't you?

- I have a boyfriend.

- Okay.

- But honestly I swear to God,

it did not feel

like cheating until,

like, just a moment ago.

Like, I think

when you touched my boob,

that's sort of when

I sort of drew the line.

- Sure, sure.

- He doesn't live here.

He goes to school in Virginia,

so we have sort

of unconventional rules

to sort of deal with that.

- Mm-hmm, and your

unconventional rules

include a boob clause.

- Yes, yes.

- Good, good.

- I guess that's--yeah.

- Now, I'm just

spit-balling here.

- Okay.

- But do you want to just

fool around with me

now and then, like,

marry him after

college or something?

- No, not--

- Okay, I didn't think so,

but I thought

I would offer it anyway.

All right, well,

in that case,

should I call you

a cab or something?

- Well, can I sleep here?

- Oh.

Would we have to sleep

head to toe or something?

- Not unless you really

wanted to, and we could,

but I don't see

why we have to.

- Great.

- It's not in the rule book.

- Oh, it's not.

There's not a section for--

- No, as long

as you don't, like--

with your hands

on my b*obs.

- We can sleep

however we want as long

as I'm not touching

your breasts.

Great, that sounds good.

I'm gonna go brush my teeth

and take some sort

of uncomfortably cold shower.

[soft orchestral music]

[electronic chime]

[playful electronic music]

- Let's do this,

classic song.

Here we go.

- [sighs]

[cell phone chiming]

Hey, um,

Mike brought me to a party

that I don't think

I don't want to be at anymore,

so I was wondering

if you'd want to come over.

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