The night of my 22nd birthday we all went out to Browns. Nancy was visiting. She, myself, Sean, Il, and Kevin ended up back at 80 4th after everyone else was done partying. We went into sean’s room to do some crazy stuff that was around for a short bit way back when. I remember his floor was covered in mattresses and we were all sitting/lying around, talking and talking and talking. Il and sean would yell when they got excited. We kept meaning to get up and leave his room but we didn’t. I remember looking at the moon out his window. Nancy took my hand at one point and squeezed it and smiled and said, “this room is so crazy! it’s covered in blankets! it’s like one giant mattress! I like it!” I laughed and laughed and said, “I know, This room is insane! I like it, too”.

-Roybot

I have this one memory that always comes to mind when I think of 80 4th, and kind of encapsulates so many associated memories and feelings in entirety. It was during the semester I took off from school, during my first year of MBA. Spring 2003?… I could be wrong. Anyway, I was living with Lauren at the time on 5th avenue and was headed to 80 4th to work on some project thingy with kevin. I don’t remember what it was about, just that it was going to save Troy and eventually the world. Maybe order out food dot com? Maybe the goodship model?


It was mid afternoon when I arrived and rang the bell. Of course no one answered and I remember looking up at the 2nd floor window as I called kevin on his cell phone…the windows were open and music was pumping out onto empty 4th street. It was sunny and mild out, and the street was getting that afternoon glow to it.

Kevin eventually threw down his keys and I went up to the 2nd floor living room, where I found he, Dave and Jack had rearranged the room into a crazy ad-hoc 3-person office. They were editing video for Digweed. Johnny DeKam might be coming over, kevin told me. Orange-yellow sunshine lit the room up, and it had been cleaned to make space for the new office setup. I remember thinking it was so beautiful when it was actually clean. Kevin said it was inspiring for him to have them work there. The wood floor was shining and the air was fresh and breezy; the excitement was palpable, the office felt legit, like a scene out of a movie with the loud music and the multiple computer screens crunching video. “We” were once again doing something awesome and unexpected and randomly freak-tastic with our skills that made it a neater place to call home. I loved Troy, I thought how smart my friends were and how proud of them I was.

Kevin and I were tense because we were fighting about something, I can’t remember what. I couldn’t tell if he wanted me there or not, but I wanted to be there and help with whatever project, some project, any project. He and I went into the front bedroom so we could talk about our own project. I had my laptop and legal pad to take notes. “What did we need to do first?”, I wanted to know. “Why are you even here?”, he wanted to know. I remember feeling taken aback, like he was insinuating that I was invading his home space. But to me it felt first and foremost like 80 4th, more of a public space, a shared space. I said something mean to him and we sat in silence for a bit. Jack came in and said something, and then kevin’s phone rang. I sat alone in the room and watched the boys out on their computers in the living room. I felt awkward and wondered if they could tell we were fighting. Kevin came back in and we sat and listened to the music. Someone stopped downstairs and chatted about whatever. Jack and Dave occasionally said something to each other. Kevin eventually went back into the living room to work on his computer. They were on a deadline, he said—this was taking precedence. I decided I should probably leave, but if I did then I left all the excitement behind. The house felt alive. I told kevin that I hated him (in my head) and sat there for a little while longer, listening to the music and staring out the window down 4th street. Eventually I left, vowing never to go back to 80th 4th street again.

I ended up back there later that night.

-shall remain nameless to protect the innocent

Late one evening, I arrived home, hankering for some friends bits. I peeled and flowered a small onion, made a batter, and fried it. Not having a deep frier, I heated some oil in a small bowl, fried the onion, and enjoyed it.

So, what to do with the oil?

Caring about our drain, I deposited the oil in an empty peanut butter jar, and placed it on the window sill above the sink.

Darkness washed over this Dude.

Arising refreshed — maybe a little bit worse for having a fried onion in me — I descended from the 3rd floor lofts to the kitchen, bearing my glass to fill with water. Turning the faucet, I filled my glass, quaffed it hungrily, and lifted my gaze to look out the window.

Illuminated by the morning light, colored by the gilded hue of safflower oil, two eyes were locked to mine … attached to a small, mousey visage, floating upside down in the jar I had placed on the sill the night before.

I shrieked like a little girl.

__armando

one night, after ingesting some peculiar poisonous mushrooms, i ended up on the floor of the second floor apt. with a video camera in hand spouting non-sense (glossolalia-like) for hours.  the video tape of the documentation may still exist.

always liked watching tv on sunday nights with folks. 

the fact that kevin wired the whole place with sound.

the huge bathtub that i could almost float in.

kevin asking me for fashion advice.

everyone getting up on fridays and trying to not be late for deep listening. this was always hard for kevin. i remember lindsey yelling at his door a lot. 

-malvina

the poor mouse in question had drowned itself in a pot of old potato soup. i dumped it out into the sink, not seeing the mouse as it went in, and with my thankfully gloved hands, i reached in to unclog whatever was clogging the sink. mouse surprise. i screamed a lot. poor mousie

-malvina

Armando drowned a mouse in cooking oil :( I’ll let him elaborate.

Royah massacred many mice by feeding them brain exploding chemicals and then listened to them cry as she went to sleep.  I’ll let her elaborate.

Kevin kept rats as colleagues in the office. I think they wrote the business plan.  I’ll let him elaborate.

-misha

While my friend Malvina was living there the sink had gross that a rodent decided it had to clean the dishes in the sink. She called me over to scoop its dead carcass out of the sink. That mouse was didn’t smell wonderful at all.

-jack