January 20, 2010

Brooklyn: Val

“You know how sometimes I think I’m the Messiah? Well, I think I’m the Messiah of Hipsters. I think I’m here to lead these people!”

This is Val. He calls me up at midnight, to let me know that he loves me and that I’m wonderful. He was in City Year, but left a few months ago because it wasn’t the organization he thought it was. (This seems to be a widely-shared sentiment.) He’s a lost soul, but a kind one. He lives in Crown Heights with one of my new best friends, and I often go over to their house to just watch british television and talk about life.

Val is the kind of guy who has a large beard and a traveling cloak (because he’s not fancy enough to have a dress one.) Although he can be a little boisterous at times, we’re a good duo. He physically takes care of me by making me brownies and giving me big hugs, while I help him emotionally by dancing in footed pajamas for him or giving him big hugs. Mostly, he makes me laugh. He’s full of conspiracy theories and wild tales, but not in a radical way. More like in a late night talk show kind of way. Oh gosh, Val should never be allowed to have his own television show. Instead of Jaywalking, he would try to psychologically analyze people on the street. I don’t think any network could cover the therapy those poor souls would undoubtedly need.

Sometimes Val smells, but we’re working on that. He always calls me a Pixie; I suppose I can be pixie-like.

At first I was a little hesitant to befriend Val, mostly due to his large stature and occasional smell. As soon as my homesickness set in, I ran to him like a MS&T student to a LAN party. He is like a mixture of all of my KMNR friends and Bob from Staples. Oh, how I miss Bob. I realized that although he could very easily break me into small pieces, Val was nothing but a gentle giant. After we sat on line on a sidewalk in Chelsea for a few hours, I knew we’d be best friends; someone behind us commented that he was like a cartoon character, and that is very true. He could very easily be placed into Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends. Sometimes I even have doubts if he is real.

Pure myth or a Dude-like living legend, Val is one of my best friends here in the city, one of the crutches I depend on.

“I think hipsters are the type of people that say “Bush sucks, let’s party!” They care, but they don’t do anything about it. I don’t really care that Bush sucks, as long as we party. If i ran into him, I’m sure we’d get along. He’d buy me lunch because he’s a rich guy, and I’m poor. We’d shake hands, and I’d smoke a cigarette with him. He’s probably a decent guy.”

See, dad, even you would like Val.

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