In Between Days.
I’m officially a lobbyist. From this day forward my motto is “26 Just for Kicks”. This is my new effort to expand days to include 2 extra hours. You may be wondering how this could happen. Time is a relative notion. Does it really exist? Time is a human invention unfairly imposed on all of us. What I’m purposing would blur the lines between night and day. On a 26 hour cycle, our days and nights would be in constant fluctuation. Is this crazy? Maybe, but I really need those two extra hours everyday. If “26 Just for Kicks” doesn’t catch on, then I’m going to start pulling for the 3 day weekend, though that could hurt more than it may help.
Take Me Out.
Someone get me out of this city. I’m thinking about going home this weekend. Well, I really want to go home or go to someone else’s home where we can just sit all weekend and do nothing. Who’s with me?
You Just Keep Me Hanging On.
You may recall that line from Lou Reed’s infamous song, Perfect Day, which may be my number song all time. Ok, that’s a gross exaggeration, but it would definitely make the Top 10. That song makes me want to cry, hug my mother, kiss the love of my life, and jump out of a window all at once. Something that powerful should be bottled up and buried somewhere near this planet's core so subsequent generations are deprived of the chance to feel these emotions. Why am I writing about this song, because I can and if you have any sense, you will download it, buy it or burn it and listen to it all day. Lou walked me all the way to work this morning, and his lyrics are now permanently burned on my pupils. It’s all I can see.
Enough I say. Enough.
Allow me to stop sounding like a blathering idiot and focus on reality. The weekend started a bit early for me hence the lack of update on Friday. My intentions were good, but when I sat down to do some writing at home, my ideas were focused elsewhere. Anyway, let me catch you up on the haps of the craps during the past few days. If you are wondering, I used haps of the craps in the hopes that Jessica will find it humorous and use in her imitations of my writing.
Where It All Began.
Thursday was the beginning of a no joke kind of weekend. This was a blurry, drunken weekend filled with strikes and gutters along with piles of good times, but the bricks were laid a day early.
Following my day in the office, I went home to do some personal work. Once this was done, I cruised up to Bside to say hello to Karen and Sivan. My plan was to head straight down to the Mercury Lounge after a quick drink at Siv’s joint, but I got sidetracked when Cami called and invited me over to her place. It had been a long time since I was at her studio, so a visit with Canadian Club in tow seemed appropriate. We played with her telescope while sipping the goodness before heading down to the club.
We were arrived as Inouk was finishing their set. I asked Beach to describe those kids to me, but he couldn’t come up with much. He said it’s something I’d have to see for myself. Cami and I got drinks and headed to the back room where we ran into Rubi, Uncle Mike, Daylen, Tumbleweed and Lucy. Everyone was there for the Occasion who was next on the bill. By the time they reached the stage, I was fairly sauced due to the lack of alcohol intake that characterized the early part of the week. Honestly, I can’t say much about this show because I didn’t pay any attention to the music. There were a couple Occasion songs that caught my ear, but nothing was lasting. All memories have fleeted, and now I’m left with nothing. These shows are really starting to blend together.
The Hong Kong took the stage last with their new keyboard player who has a million times more personality then their last one. Their former keys player never looked excited to be playing and she was really quite a bore. The Hong Kong blew their load early by opening with Mazerati, but I did stay in the back room until I heard Rock the Faces. By the time they played that track, Cami was surly and going on and on about how bad she thought they were. At the time, I couldn’t have agreed with her more, so we headed back out front where we had tequila shots with Beach and Jaclyn. My night wound down in the back after the place had emptied and by 2am I was in much need of some rest.
Round Two, Fight!
Friday morning was met with more sore throat action. I figured my best bet would be to call in sick and lay low all day resting up. Like a dumbass, I didn’t sleep late. By 9am I was deep into How Soon Is Never which I finally finished that morning. Then I watched the second season of The Office before having brunch with Daylen at Clinton Street Bakery. We rapped over egg and cheeses before I headed back home to hang out with some of Builder’s friends from Pittsburgh while watching some episodes of those judge shows and talking politics. I forgot about their unique trailer trash beauty. It’s a real snippet of Americana that makes me realize how Bush got in office.
Friday night was ushered in with a visit by the wonderful Cathy Bishop. She recently scored a full time gig at Google, and though I’m upset that will keep her out of my reach in the near future, it makes her trips back to NYC so much fun. Cathy, D, Kyle, Lowel, Dan and I headed over to Cami’s where we were met by Leah, Cami and Jessica. We had a couple drinks before heading to Korova Milk bar for Christie’s birthday. I just want to say now that that bar has never appealed to me, but it was the birthday girl’s choice since Rififfi was so crowded. The Juicebox Dj must have thought it was 1997 and Three Dollar Bill Y’all had just dropped. His selection of shitty rap metal fusion made me want to puke. The redeeming aspect of the evening was that Christie had managed to get a lot of old and new faces together. It was really great to see everyone, and I hope to do something like that again soon.
Cathy, D, Kyle and I broke out and made our way to Lit in and effort to do a little dancing. Unfortunately that bar was extremely packed as well. I ran into some Flavorpill people there along with the Cali crew. We managed to dance to a couple songs, but it was so out of hand we decided to jump out and cruise over to Sophie’s to finish the evening. After a barrage of shots with Dan and Karl along with some drunken ramblings with Leclare, the four of us headed to Sal’s to grab some pizza. We got in a little tussle with some retarded Brit who was running his mouth about how the Japanese are a virus. This prompted D and Kyle to start a drunken verbal battle that had no ending. Eventually the night ended with a solid pass out.
Do What You Can.
Saturday began with another great brunch at Mogador with Hawkins, Leah, Barbs and Cami. That place has a fantastic brunch that is rivaled by few. There aren’t many prefix options, but stick to the Middle Eastern Breakfast, it aims to please and delivers with a bull’s-eye. That brunch, well this whole weekend for that matter, transported me back to few years prior when life seemed a lot simpler. It had a lot to do with the company, and it’s something I look to practice more in the future.
After the big brunch session, I went back home to finish up a late addition to this weeks pill. Make sure you take a look at my listings this week because there are a couple of rock shows that should not go unnoticed. I’m sure they will be mentioned here, but check them out anyway because Flavorpill kicks some serious ass.
Speaking of Flavorpill, my Saturday afternoon was graced by a visit from the always lovely Liz McDonald. She was in the neighborhood buying the biggest cashews ever so she made a point to pop in. Usually I’m adverse to the pop in, but when it’s someone like Liz, whom I’m rarely, get to see, it is more then welcomed. We got a hang on while listing to records and chatting about M3 which she attended last week. It was evident that she was telling the truth because she was so damn tan. Thank you Ms. Sun we appreciate it.
Later that evening Beach and Chernin stopped in for a quick minute before we headed out for Mexican food. I know what you are thinking, but this time we skipped on the Festival and went for El Nuevo Amanecer on Stanton Street. We met Jack, Kirsten and Ackerman for an awesome meal. This place was a bit pricier than my local favorite, but it had some killer fajitas and bitchin margaritas. The food was no match for Jack’s story about a crazy Texan who tried to get him a hooker in Vegas.
Beach and I rolled down to the Bowery following the feast. We walked in while Hopewell was on the stage. Again, I’m not ready to dive into a critique of the music because it all seems a little blurry. They were ok, but it had this alternative college rock feel to it that rubbed me the wrong way. Eventually Karen, Daylen and Action showed up and we got our serious drink on.
Between Hopewell and Kaito some dude from the Moldy Peaches got on stage and performed a few songs. Nothing to memorable, but him and his partner in crime ended with a cover of A.R.E. Weapons track Don’t Be Scared. It was a hilarious cover, and it kicked the shit out of the original.
Kaito took the stage and blasted through their best Yeah Yeah Yeah’s impression. This band did not appeal to me in any way. It felt a bit trite especially with the recent fizzle of the Brooklyn dance-punk scene (read: Liars completely flipping that shit inside out). The trading vocalization was tedious, indiscernible and often times shrill. It made me want to donkey punch the girls who were doing it. When I heard their record none of this came to mind, but the live show had visions of Culkins running through my head.
After a good hour of standing around and watching their roadie set up their magical forest, British Sea Power took the stage. If you haven’t seen them yet, make sure to jump on the train the next time you see their name on the marquee. They were fucking fantastic and seemed to make a confusingly drunk night make sense. They wowed onlookers with tunes like Blackout, Fear of Drowning and Apologies to the Insect Life. For a darker side of indie rock type band (meaning Joy Division and more recently Interpol) they sure looked like they were having fun and they got rowdy as hell. The lead guitarist was intent on destroying the shrubbery laid before him while the keyboard player ended the set on the shoulders of a band mate after running through the crowd pounding a drum. Their lead singer seemed to be the most intense in the lot, but even he had to smile at some of the outlandish antics of his band mates. Yet another gem from the crew at Rough Trade. They sure know how to pick artists. Some one give their A&R rep a raise.
The night rounded out at Bside where spinART and Rough Trade sponsored an after party with free Brooklyn Lager. I missed the free booze, but that wasn’t a problem because I was already a mess. I saw a lot of people, but don’t remember any of the conversations or happenings. Well, don’t remember or choose to forget, which ever it was, it’s all a bit hazy.
Sunday Slow Down.
Sunday began with much trepidation, but it evolved into a splendid day. After a morning fighting a horrible hangover, Alister, Builder and I hit up Café Orlin for some grub before we met Hawkins and Tony at Union Square to take in Starsky and Hutch. Let me tell you, Todd Phillips hit another home run. Though I missed his Hitchcock like cameo in this film, he did well to bring together a couple of actors who should always work together. Stiller, Wilson, Vaughn, Farrell, Bateman, and fucking Snoop Doggie Dog all on one screen. Be still my heart. It wasn’t as side splitting as Old School and it lacked the fart jokes of Road Trip but it was well done and probably comes in at a close second in his hilarious portfolio.
After the movies I met Flynne, Stephanie and Cami at an apartment that Flynne was house sitting. This place was absolutely ridiculous and belonged to some NYU professor. Who knew being an academic could pay so well?
Cami and I broke out and headed to Leah’s where we joined her, Erin, Barbs, Dan and Lou for some wings and Sopranos. The episode left me feeling as though I had missed a whole season, but I’m sure I’ll be caught up as soon as the next episode comes around. We also caught the season finale of Curb which grinded to a boring halt in the second half. Quote of the show: “I’d fuck her with a Bush mask on!”
So Cami and I busted out and shared a bottle of wine while she packed for her half week away for work. Now I’m struggling through my work day due to a weekend devoid of good sleep and chalked full of heavy partying.
Today’s Ipod mix includes: Desendents, Milo Goes to College; Bouncing Souls, The Bad, the Worse, the Out of Print; Elefant, Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid.
I’m officially a lobbyist. From this day forward my motto is “26 Just for Kicks”. This is my new effort to expand days to include 2 extra hours. You may be wondering how this could happen. Time is a relative notion. Does it really exist? Time is a human invention unfairly imposed on all of us. What I’m purposing would blur the lines between night and day. On a 26 hour cycle, our days and nights would be in constant fluctuation. Is this crazy? Maybe, but I really need those two extra hours everyday. If “26 Just for Kicks” doesn’t catch on, then I’m going to start pulling for the 3 day weekend, though that could hurt more than it may help.
Take Me Out.
Someone get me out of this city. I’m thinking about going home this weekend. Well, I really want to go home or go to someone else’s home where we can just sit all weekend and do nothing. Who’s with me?
You Just Keep Me Hanging On.
You may recall that line from Lou Reed’s infamous song, Perfect Day, which may be my number song all time. Ok, that’s a gross exaggeration, but it would definitely make the Top 10. That song makes me want to cry, hug my mother, kiss the love of my life, and jump out of a window all at once. Something that powerful should be bottled up and buried somewhere near this planet's core so subsequent generations are deprived of the chance to feel these emotions. Why am I writing about this song, because I can and if you have any sense, you will download it, buy it or burn it and listen to it all day. Lou walked me all the way to work this morning, and his lyrics are now permanently burned on my pupils. It’s all I can see.
Enough I say. Enough.
Allow me to stop sounding like a blathering idiot and focus on reality. The weekend started a bit early for me hence the lack of update on Friday. My intentions were good, but when I sat down to do some writing at home, my ideas were focused elsewhere. Anyway, let me catch you up on the haps of the craps during the past few days. If you are wondering, I used haps of the craps in the hopes that Jessica will find it humorous and use in her imitations of my writing.
Where It All Began.
Thursday was the beginning of a no joke kind of weekend. This was a blurry, drunken weekend filled with strikes and gutters along with piles of good times, but the bricks were laid a day early.
Following my day in the office, I went home to do some personal work. Once this was done, I cruised up to Bside to say hello to Karen and Sivan. My plan was to head straight down to the Mercury Lounge after a quick drink at Siv’s joint, but I got sidetracked when Cami called and invited me over to her place. It had been a long time since I was at her studio, so a visit with Canadian Club in tow seemed appropriate. We played with her telescope while sipping the goodness before heading down to the club.
We were arrived as Inouk was finishing their set. I asked Beach to describe those kids to me, but he couldn’t come up with much. He said it’s something I’d have to see for myself. Cami and I got drinks and headed to the back room where we ran into Rubi, Uncle Mike, Daylen, Tumbleweed and Lucy. Everyone was there for the Occasion who was next on the bill. By the time they reached the stage, I was fairly sauced due to the lack of alcohol intake that characterized the early part of the week. Honestly, I can’t say much about this show because I didn’t pay any attention to the music. There were a couple Occasion songs that caught my ear, but nothing was lasting. All memories have fleeted, and now I’m left with nothing. These shows are really starting to blend together.
The Hong Kong took the stage last with their new keyboard player who has a million times more personality then their last one. Their former keys player never looked excited to be playing and she was really quite a bore. The Hong Kong blew their load early by opening with Mazerati, but I did stay in the back room until I heard Rock the Faces. By the time they played that track, Cami was surly and going on and on about how bad she thought they were. At the time, I couldn’t have agreed with her more, so we headed back out front where we had tequila shots with Beach and Jaclyn. My night wound down in the back after the place had emptied and by 2am I was in much need of some rest.
Round Two, Fight!
Friday morning was met with more sore throat action. I figured my best bet would be to call in sick and lay low all day resting up. Like a dumbass, I didn’t sleep late. By 9am I was deep into How Soon Is Never which I finally finished that morning. Then I watched the second season of The Office before having brunch with Daylen at Clinton Street Bakery. We rapped over egg and cheeses before I headed back home to hang out with some of Builder’s friends from Pittsburgh while watching some episodes of those judge shows and talking politics. I forgot about their unique trailer trash beauty. It’s a real snippet of Americana that makes me realize how Bush got in office.
Friday night was ushered in with a visit by the wonderful Cathy Bishop. She recently scored a full time gig at Google, and though I’m upset that will keep her out of my reach in the near future, it makes her trips back to NYC so much fun. Cathy, D, Kyle, Lowel, Dan and I headed over to Cami’s where we were met by Leah, Cami and Jessica. We had a couple drinks before heading to Korova Milk bar for Christie’s birthday. I just want to say now that that bar has never appealed to me, but it was the birthday girl’s choice since Rififfi was so crowded. The Juicebox Dj must have thought it was 1997 and Three Dollar Bill Y’all had just dropped. His selection of shitty rap metal fusion made me want to puke. The redeeming aspect of the evening was that Christie had managed to get a lot of old and new faces together. It was really great to see everyone, and I hope to do something like that again soon.
Cathy, D, Kyle and I broke out and made our way to Lit in and effort to do a little dancing. Unfortunately that bar was extremely packed as well. I ran into some Flavorpill people there along with the Cali crew. We managed to dance to a couple songs, but it was so out of hand we decided to jump out and cruise over to Sophie’s to finish the evening. After a barrage of shots with Dan and Karl along with some drunken ramblings with Leclare, the four of us headed to Sal’s to grab some pizza. We got in a little tussle with some retarded Brit who was running his mouth about how the Japanese are a virus. This prompted D and Kyle to start a drunken verbal battle that had no ending. Eventually the night ended with a solid pass out.
Do What You Can.
Saturday began with another great brunch at Mogador with Hawkins, Leah, Barbs and Cami. That place has a fantastic brunch that is rivaled by few. There aren’t many prefix options, but stick to the Middle Eastern Breakfast, it aims to please and delivers with a bull’s-eye. That brunch, well this whole weekend for that matter, transported me back to few years prior when life seemed a lot simpler. It had a lot to do with the company, and it’s something I look to practice more in the future.
After the big brunch session, I went back home to finish up a late addition to this weeks pill. Make sure you take a look at my listings this week because there are a couple of rock shows that should not go unnoticed. I’m sure they will be mentioned here, but check them out anyway because Flavorpill kicks some serious ass.
Speaking of Flavorpill, my Saturday afternoon was graced by a visit from the always lovely Liz McDonald. She was in the neighborhood buying the biggest cashews ever so she made a point to pop in. Usually I’m adverse to the pop in, but when it’s someone like Liz, whom I’m rarely, get to see, it is more then welcomed. We got a hang on while listing to records and chatting about M3 which she attended last week. It was evident that she was telling the truth because she was so damn tan. Thank you Ms. Sun we appreciate it.
Later that evening Beach and Chernin stopped in for a quick minute before we headed out for Mexican food. I know what you are thinking, but this time we skipped on the Festival and went for El Nuevo Amanecer on Stanton Street. We met Jack, Kirsten and Ackerman for an awesome meal. This place was a bit pricier than my local favorite, but it had some killer fajitas and bitchin margaritas. The food was no match for Jack’s story about a crazy Texan who tried to get him a hooker in Vegas.
Beach and I rolled down to the Bowery following the feast. We walked in while Hopewell was on the stage. Again, I’m not ready to dive into a critique of the music because it all seems a little blurry. They were ok, but it had this alternative college rock feel to it that rubbed me the wrong way. Eventually Karen, Daylen and Action showed up and we got our serious drink on.
Between Hopewell and Kaito some dude from the Moldy Peaches got on stage and performed a few songs. Nothing to memorable, but him and his partner in crime ended with a cover of A.R.E. Weapons track Don’t Be Scared. It was a hilarious cover, and it kicked the shit out of the original.
Kaito took the stage and blasted through their best Yeah Yeah Yeah’s impression. This band did not appeal to me in any way. It felt a bit trite especially with the recent fizzle of the Brooklyn dance-punk scene (read: Liars completely flipping that shit inside out). The trading vocalization was tedious, indiscernible and often times shrill. It made me want to donkey punch the girls who were doing it. When I heard their record none of this came to mind, but the live show had visions of Culkins running through my head.
After a good hour of standing around and watching their roadie set up their magical forest, British Sea Power took the stage. If you haven’t seen them yet, make sure to jump on the train the next time you see their name on the marquee. They were fucking fantastic and seemed to make a confusingly drunk night make sense. They wowed onlookers with tunes like Blackout, Fear of Drowning and Apologies to the Insect Life. For a darker side of indie rock type band (meaning Joy Division and more recently Interpol) they sure looked like they were having fun and they got rowdy as hell. The lead guitarist was intent on destroying the shrubbery laid before him while the keyboard player ended the set on the shoulders of a band mate after running through the crowd pounding a drum. Their lead singer seemed to be the most intense in the lot, but even he had to smile at some of the outlandish antics of his band mates. Yet another gem from the crew at Rough Trade. They sure know how to pick artists. Some one give their A&R rep a raise.
The night rounded out at Bside where spinART and Rough Trade sponsored an after party with free Brooklyn Lager. I missed the free booze, but that wasn’t a problem because I was already a mess. I saw a lot of people, but don’t remember any of the conversations or happenings. Well, don’t remember or choose to forget, which ever it was, it’s all a bit hazy.
Sunday Slow Down.
Sunday began with much trepidation, but it evolved into a splendid day. After a morning fighting a horrible hangover, Alister, Builder and I hit up Café Orlin for some grub before we met Hawkins and Tony at Union Square to take in Starsky and Hutch. Let me tell you, Todd Phillips hit another home run. Though I missed his Hitchcock like cameo in this film, he did well to bring together a couple of actors who should always work together. Stiller, Wilson, Vaughn, Farrell, Bateman, and fucking Snoop Doggie Dog all on one screen. Be still my heart. It wasn’t as side splitting as Old School and it lacked the fart jokes of Road Trip but it was well done and probably comes in at a close second in his hilarious portfolio.
After the movies I met Flynne, Stephanie and Cami at an apartment that Flynne was house sitting. This place was absolutely ridiculous and belonged to some NYU professor. Who knew being an academic could pay so well?
Cami and I broke out and headed to Leah’s where we joined her, Erin, Barbs, Dan and Lou for some wings and Sopranos. The episode left me feeling as though I had missed a whole season, but I’m sure I’ll be caught up as soon as the next episode comes around. We also caught the season finale of Curb which grinded to a boring halt in the second half. Quote of the show: “I’d fuck her with a Bush mask on!”
So Cami and I busted out and shared a bottle of wine while she packed for her half week away for work. Now I’m struggling through my work day due to a weekend devoid of good sleep and chalked full of heavy partying.
Today’s Ipod mix includes: Desendents, Milo Goes to College; Bouncing Souls, The Bad, the Worse, the Out of Print; Elefant, Sunlight Makes Me Paranoid.
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