Fuck you 2024! Hello 2025! If you’re reading this, chances are you probably rung in the new year either shit faced or high as fuck! Whatever you did, I sure hope you didn’t spend it sober. But I’m not here to talk about about new year’s eve! I to tell a story of fiction and of course, New York City. You’re also probably wondering why I despised 2024, and the truth is, I really do. There’s no fucking way I’d sugarcoat it. After all, as a fucking writer, I have zero intentions of “being careful” to what I fucking say or write, or worried that the “easily offended crowd” will think when they read my words and sentences. Fuck them. Life is very fucking short. You might as well say what you want to say, and do what you want to do. Anyway, not all of the year 2024 was a total shit show. I’d say there was at least one or two memories that were somehow good. I’d consider it that way since this is just fiction! But, please enjoy this fucking short story.

I think it was early November last year, I saw an unpretentious art show somewhere on Myrtle Avenue and Broadway, of some Chilean artist, I don’t even remember his name. But I do remember his paintings! Every piece of it, looked almost like a reincarnation of Francis Bacon paintings! The theme was “While The Rest Of Us Die”, a satirical approach to today’s harsh reality of the dangerous barebacking between a tech billionaire/richest man in the world and the newly elected president who was a former reality tv star – kinda like a real time national footage of the final days of US Democracy. Anyway, I was madly in love with his work that I even tried to seduce him ! I was under the influence of love itself! Not entirely sure if it was his art or his creative aura. The other thing I was also under the influence of, was ketamine. Thanks to my friend, Jeremy. He’s one of my closest friends in Bushwick and the ex-boyfriend of a former friend who I no longer talk to. Jeremy is also a talented painter from Australia who holds a fulltime day job as an IT Administrator at the New York Stock Exchange. Life is not fair- when you’re not rich enough to avoid doing a regular job, and not lucky . Back to the art show, Jeremy’s date, who gave me ketamine in the bathroom, I finally remember her name, it was Lana. She’s an actress, currently studying at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts, in Work Island (Manhattan), where Robert Redford, Grace Kelly, Jennifer Coolidge, and Adrien Brody, received their trainings. Jeremy and Lana are great lovers. I could tell. But they’re not in love, I think they’re both aware of it. Jeremy is in his mid-forties, Lana is in her mid-twenties. One thing I’ve noticed, after she gave me the bump of ketamine, she got a little touchy-handsy, almost wanting to make out with me, and as a trysexual man who’s friends with her date, I obviously avoided it as much as I can. I told her that I’m gay, but she did not give a fuck about that. Even Jeremy saw her trying to lick my face and he just laughed it off like a jackass. I had to pull away from Lana. being a man and a cis male, men going forward to report a sexual assault from a woman, is still almost rare. So I got away from her, and moved to the other side of the art gallery where it was more crowded and nobody knows me. Still high from the ketamine and feeling like the lawyer of legendary journalist, Hunter S. Thompson, I was in the K-Hole! Fuck. I started to carefully study each painting on the wall. It’s all so beautiful. Having the right substance, definitely enhances the organic euphoria that someone has. But one painting stood out to me. I think it was called, “I’m Sorry You’re Poor”. It was a painting of a single mother struggling trying to taking care of her two children, one boy, one girl, in a tiny apartment, on the lower ground floor of a building. on the very top floor of it, there’s the “All American Family- the father wearing a suit, the mother dressed in couture, the son wearing a prep school or boarding school uniform, a golden retriever dog, and lastly their maid, a person of color – either Black, Hispanic, or Asian, cleaning their apartment.” , I also noticed from the painting that from the lower ground floor apartment, there’s some kind of tunnel connecting it to the very top floor apartment, and inside that tunnel are colors of brown, blue, & red, of smoke coming from the bottom floor and when it transport out to the top floor- all the colors turn to yellow. In that K-Hole moment, I learned that the color of yellow in a biblical context- represents dishonesty, deceit, & betrayal. While the colors brown, blue, & red- represent hard work, productivity, & strength. Damn! This painting fuckin rocks! I have to have it! But there’s a problem, the price as indicated on the signage is at $10,000 USD. I was like oh fuck it! So I took the painting off the wall like I was Justin Timberlake driving drunk in Long Island! By the time I was about to exit the art gallery, I was stopped by a couple of people.

“Sir, you can’t take that painting with you!” Said a young woman dressed up like a Chinese lesbian- wearing a traditional Chinese male garment, short masculine haircut, no make up. This is not a stereotype and only based on the Chinese lesbians I’ve met IRL. So calm your tits down.

“Sir, you need to give that painting back!” Said the guy who looks like John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever movie, with a balding hair.

“But this painting is so damn good! I need this!” I said.

“Sir, you can’t!” Chinese lesbian said.

“Why the fuck not?!” I replied.

“Because someone already bought it for $10,000! Please give it back!” the bald version of John Travolta said to me.

In that moment, I realized that I don’t have $10,000 in cash or in my bank account! As much as I really loved that painting, it felt like I didn’t deserve it. Not yet. So I gave it back to the balding John Travolta. Perhaps one day, I’ll deserve to have it : )

THE END

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