Noah Cicero - Best Behavior

Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…..

Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…..

Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…..

Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….. Real boredom….. Real boredom…. Real boredom…. Real boredom….

Real boredom….

June 5, 2009.

Six months and two weeks after.

Unemployment rises to 9.4 percent.

Barack Obama, the president.

Objective of visit, watch auditions for making of a movie based off of first book.

Enter Petra's apartment. She doesn't look good. She has a giant zit on her nose. I lost my job at the steak house. I now work at Red Lobster. I work like 15 hours a week. There are no hours at work. No one is getting many hours.

Petra has no job.

She had a job making 40,000 a year:

But lost it.

She fucked up the accounting.

Petra and I walk down Bedford. There is something wrong with her face. It looks disfigured. She is sad. Her New York dream is coming apart. Read on Hipster Runoff that many New York dreams are coming apart.

Petra was running out of money.

Went to a store and I bought Captain Morgan's Spiced Rum. She was happy. She didn't pay for anything.

We walked down Bedford in Brooklyn. Hipsters everywhere. Everyone dressed in Urban Outfitters, American Apparel, and clothes they bought from vintage sites Online.

Wearing khaki shorts and Scarface t-shirt. I didn't look hip. Petra kept bitching about the hipsters even though she was dressed exactly like them, shopped at the same places and did nothing but be a hipster.

We stopped at a truck; several nice Latinos sold us burritos and tacos after we paid them. Petra didn't pay for anything.

We went back to her place. We stood in her kitchen and ate. There was no kitchen table. Petra poured the rum in to a cup. She drank the rum without ice cubes or mixing it with any other substance. I put Diet Pepsi in with the rum and ice cubes. We ate the Mexican food.

We went up on her roof and smoked cigarettes. She kept bitching that she wanted to come to the movie auditions the next day. I told her no. I told her it was like work. The movie people had paid me money, I had signed contracts. We had contractual agreements. I had maintained a sense of professionalism. She kept bitching. Then talked about how she went to a lot of parties. It was obvious she was drinking a lot. That she was a person that drank every day and had severe emotional problems.

We went back to her room. I didn't care about having sex. We kissed. She kept drinking the rum. She told me she was on her period. Told her I didn't mind. Told her I came for the movie. Was hoping she would be my friend and we could have fun. That made her mad. She assumed that I only came there for her. Petra drank one glass after another. I was sipping the rum. Petra gave me a blow job. It wasn't remarkable. It was boring. Just in and out. I could give a much better blowjob. Cummed in her mouth. Laid down.

Told her I had been in a car for the last eight hours and needed to go to sleep. Tried to cuddle her. She got mad. Grabbed my penis and started yelling that I should have sex with her. She tugged on my flaccid penis hard. Turned around and scootched across the bed from her. Decided to wake up early and leave before she woke up.

Woke up to Petra crawling over me. She came back to bed, went back to sleep. Got out of the bed and took a shower. Put my clothes on. Put everything in my book bag. Looked at the rum bottle, the rum was gone. Left the room. Occurred to me that I never even looked at her before I left. Didn't even kiss her goodbye. Didn't matter. She was nuts. I was nuts, but not nuts in a mean way.

The sun was up. Barely anyone was on the streets. Took the L to Manhattan. Looked at cell phone, 6:45 a.m. Didn't have to be to the auditions till 11:30 a.m.. Looked at scribbled note in pocket to see where auditions were, decided to walk there. It said, “133 street, 27.” It didn't make sense. Wrote the directions down while drinking rum and while Petra wouldn't' shut up. Decided to walk to 133. Started walking. It got hotter and hotter. Walked up Amsterdam, saw many Jews. Saw many signs telling me to watch television shows. Saw many storefronts selling things that bored me. Kept going into Starbucks, taking a shit and buying a coffee. There was a Starbucks everywhere. There were also many McDonald's. I felt good. Needed time to think. Made it to Harlem. Called the movie people, Jack Lemark and Navid. Jack answered. Told me I should be on 27th. Told me to get out of Harlem, get on subway. I looked around, only white man for miles. Didn't care. I voted for Barack Obama. I would tell them that and we would be brothers. Found subway on Saint Nicholas. Took subway down. Found auditions.

Went up elevator. Covered in sweat. Knew I was not looking good. Got out of elevator. Walked into production offices or something. Very weird, movie posters and computers everywhere. Actors sitting and walking around, all talking to themselves. There were like eight people saying lines that I wrote seven years before out loud. It was very weird. Felt weirded out.

Navid led me into a small office. It was stuffy in the office. I thought there would be food. I was hungry. Somebody handed me a bagel. Ate the bagel slowly. Drank coffee even though very hot inside office. Actors came in and acted out parts. A skinny man videotaped them. Jack Lemark made comments, telling them to try things in a different way. Navid told them to do things he thought would work better. They would ask me to give an opinion. I gave a sociological opinion; everyone looked at me funny but at the same time took me serious. Ate another bagel.

Left the auditions with Navid and Jack Lemark. We went to Grand Central Station. They bought me a ticket to go home in two days. We sat and ate. They talked about money. How much they could get, what actors they could get, how much money each actor could bring in. I sat there eating French Fries text messaging Hu Chin. Hu Chin was at the NYU library facing Washington Square Park. He was my only hope to have a place to sleep. There were other places to sleep. But Hu Chin lived with John Walters and I knew we would have a good time together.

Navid and Jack Lamark got on the Q and went to a barbecue. Walked down to Washington Square Park. Badly needed a shower. Was very hot. No wind in Manhattan, all heat in the summer. Remembered Seven Year Itch , remembered how they said it got fucking hot in NYC in the summer. They weren't fucking lying. Found Washington Square Park. Sat down on benches in front of library in the shade. An older Black man played jazz to a middle-aged Puerto Rican woman. Hu Chin came out of NYU. We saw each other. We came close and shook each other's hand. He said, “You look hot.” Replied, “I need a shower.”