Make Every Mile Count.
The weekend came in went, and to tell you the truth it felt so short that this Monday just felt like a everyday is another Monday. Are we doomed to this cycle? This cannot be the only way to make a living. Either way, I’m saying fuck it because we have a three-day weekend on the horizon. There are some tentative plans to disappear, but don’t ask. They may not pan out. This could facilitate a repeat from the past weekend when a whole lot went down, but the days bled together.
Friends of P.
On my walk home from work on Friday, I ran into Kyle on 2nd Avenue. Upon passing the Mercury we ran into the RANA kids who just finished sound checking. We ducked into the club to hello to These Bones who were busy tweaking their instruments. Beach was out front chatting so we decided to stop over at The Library for some happy hour Irish Carbombs. It was a great way to usher in the weekend.
A couple hours later Dan stopped by the house for a bit before it was time for the rock show. The club was full of kids who were revved up for the festivities. It was nice seeing all sorts of people who came to support the cause. It gives you a little of faith in the scene. Special thanks to Steve Culkin for bringing me a copy of the new Interpol record Antics that hasn’t left the stereo yet.
Demander were four strong for this show. Matt RANA was a welcomed addition to the group, and even though it was tough to find the keys in a kicked up mix, Matt brought some energy to their set. Carlos also joined the ladies and though it didn’t feel as natural as their Luna Lounge show, I think he fits in perfectly with Demander. Karen and Sivan were at it again. While Sivan beat her kit like it was a drunk causing trouble at Bside, Karen let us know that under their thick skin there is some frailty and uncertainty when maneuvering through this Wicked World.
During change over I managed to catch up with some people, but for the most part I wasn’t ready for a big night. With no end in site, I readied myself for the These Bones assault. The boys sounded so much better this time around. Their Delancey show felt a bit strange. Bones played a great set, but I couldn’t get into it. Friday night was completely different. From the first chord they were on, and they looked like a band ready for that type of gig. Hopefully we can get them on the road and someone will take notice so they can reach an audience that will surely dig them. Visually speaking bones hung a flyer bearing their namesake that added more flair to a band whose eye candy is only match by their ear candy.
After a two-piece called The Gaskets played a few songs of synth pop that reminded me of Opti-Grab without the obvious Beastie Boys chip on their shoulders, RANA took the stage go lay it down for the crowd. RANA may not always sound like my particular brand of rock, but their bluesy side keeps me hungry. They kicked it all the way into level ten jams by 1:30am, but the night was getting the best of me so the plug got pulled.
Drinking Makes You Sexy.
If this were true, then I would have been a super model on Saturday. Builder, Jon and I managed to fight off our hangovers in pursuit of brunch. We ended up at Café Colonial on Houston and Elizabeth. If you hit this place, make sure to try the salmon sandwich with basil mayo. It is what Builder calls delicious. We decided to enjoy a bit of the weather before holing up and wasting the day. This entailed a walk over to visit Mike who was pulling a shift at the Apple Store. We found Stevo and Lisa inside doing the same. That’s the thing about Mike Rothfeld, you always want to say hello to him. He is a great kid.
Stevo, Jon, Builder and I made our way back to 186 where we were joined by Jordan to sip some gin and tonics while sitting on the fire escape. The day became night and we all got sauced. Dan, Kyle, Hawkins and Dee showed up and we wasted the evening in the kitchen playing cards and the newly beloved quarter hockey. Christie checked in on the tail end of the evening, but my ass was grass by 3am.
Who's City? Our City.
My original Sunday plan involved me watching the final day of the Olympics with little or no interruption. These aspirations were shattered by 10:30am when I was stirred by Kyle, Builder, Dan and Dee who were getting psyched for the huge protest. At the eleventh hour I decided to jump on the train and do my civic duty. We met up with Chris, Lou and Scott on 12th Street and 7th Avenue near the beginning of the march.
We were decked out in our hand made t-shirts that Kyle sketched earlier. My shirt read, “Voting Bush is Gay,” while the rest of the kids donned shirts with stick figures getting fucked by the President. They were truly a stroke of genius. We made the entire route with a stop in front of the Garden to scream at the cops and Republicans who were smoking pipes out front. We marched, we screamed, we danced, we sang and we felt like what we did made a difference. Hopefully you take strides to do the same between now and November.
My thanks to Dan for working me down and convincing me that my participation in the event, though minute, is crucial to the overall message it sends to the rest of the country.
After the protest we stopped for some grub before I returned home to relax for a bit. Cami and Leah stopped down to hang for a few before I made my way to Brooklyn for a VMA party at Emma and Ramie’s apartment. Pooja and I met up to take the F train ride together. She made fun of my distaste and fear of the outer borough the entire ride. We were interrupted by a performer who played show tunes that Pooja claimed were Stevie Wonder songs. In retrospect, they were Wonder songs, but I thought it would have been cooler if he was playing the theme song of Family Ties.
Ryan and Noah met us out front of their place in the Slope and we cruised through the heat to the apartment. We scored some grub at the supermarket along with enough beer to get us through the horror to come. To tell you the truth, I didn’t hate the VMA’s though I do think they focus on some of the wrong talent. Jay-Z’s video should have done better. It was welcomed risk in a market seized by bling and tits, but the judges didn’t think so. Jet didn’t sound like shit, and using Iggy’s riff certainly didn’t hurt their chances, but coupling them with Hoobastank and Yellowcard made me realize that our style of music doesn’t stand a chance on a large scale stage. It doesn’t have the impact of an Usher or Outkast. Jay-Z and Beyonce were uber cute when they gave shout outs to each other at the end of their respective acceptance speeches. Usher was the big winner, but it would have benefited all of us if MTV rushed him off the stage a bit. My favorite couple of the evening was Mandy Moore and Marilyn Manson. Is there something going on with them? God hopes so.
Anyway, the show wrapped up as did the party and my ass was back in the station waiting for the train. Why can’t they move Brooklyn over so it’s attached to Manhattan?
Before I Get Upset.
*** Some strange news reported from the Weezer Camp. The boys have scrapped the 5th record’s Rick Rubin sessions (I smell bootlegs and b-sides) and decided to produce their own record. This could get interesting. Let’s hope they pull it off. With Rubin steering the spiritual ship, could they return to former greatness?
On another note, did anyone read today's NY Post? It was extremely offensive. Unfortunately, I'm trying to type these comments while our former Mayor pumps up the Commander and Chief. People, please don't be fooled by this insane rhetoric. Keep your thoughts grounded in the reality of the situation.
Heroes, sacrifice, true freedom? God bless each one we’ve lost. Every soul. Every single person. And God Bless America. Holy shit these guys are good. They just play the same card and people are to afraid to throw their chips on the table. Quit grinding it out America. It’s time to make a run. Fuck.
I’m so frustrated, but let me get back to the Post. While news outlets such as CNN who site protest organizer estimates (half million) or the NY Times who loosely stated a police estimate (half million), the NY Post had a law-enforcement source that chopped the number down considerably, (120k). Not only did they short change the demonstrators, the Rupert Murdock Newsletter skewed the actual peaceful nature of the crowd by running a picture of what was one frame of Anarchy in a roll of a billion positive images. In case you miss an hour of Fox News after a long day in the office, you don’t have to worry because the NY Post will have an official Arrest Count red box of danger in your morning edition.
Spare me any comments about how this has always been the case, because this is the first time I saw it first hand, and it is a disturbing realization.
And could somebody please hide Andrea Peyser’s computer from her? Come, come you NY Post employees; I know you have it in you. Take her computer and smash it so she can’t pollute the paper carrying her print. In this column the self indulgent Peyser condemns a young girl for protesting without having a full understanding of the meaning of her actions or the power of her words. Is she discouraging young people from getting involved in politics? Is she aiming to belittle the young girl’s intention which would inevitable strengthen her political alignment? Anyway you read it, she sounds like a fool. She pigeonholes the entire dissonance movement as a bunch of rich hippies who don’t know what they are fighting for. She couldn’t be further from the truth. Yesterday made each and every protester feel as though they were not alone. We realized the importance of order in our pursuit of truth. In this ideological battle with the existing system we managed to find the most moralistic means to state our opinions without violence or any serious offense to the law. Starbucks’ Revolution? What cross section of the march did you interview? Or are you sure you didn’t just wander into the Old Navy to check for deals on their new fall line?
The weekend came in went, and to tell you the truth it felt so short that this Monday just felt like a everyday is another Monday. Are we doomed to this cycle? This cannot be the only way to make a living. Either way, I’m saying fuck it because we have a three-day weekend on the horizon. There are some tentative plans to disappear, but don’t ask. They may not pan out. This could facilitate a repeat from the past weekend when a whole lot went down, but the days bled together.
Friends of P.
On my walk home from work on Friday, I ran into Kyle on 2nd Avenue. Upon passing the Mercury we ran into the RANA kids who just finished sound checking. We ducked into the club to hello to These Bones who were busy tweaking their instruments. Beach was out front chatting so we decided to stop over at The Library for some happy hour Irish Carbombs. It was a great way to usher in the weekend.
A couple hours later Dan stopped by the house for a bit before it was time for the rock show. The club was full of kids who were revved up for the festivities. It was nice seeing all sorts of people who came to support the cause. It gives you a little of faith in the scene. Special thanks to Steve Culkin for bringing me a copy of the new Interpol record Antics that hasn’t left the stereo yet.
Demander were four strong for this show. Matt RANA was a welcomed addition to the group, and even though it was tough to find the keys in a kicked up mix, Matt brought some energy to their set. Carlos also joined the ladies and though it didn’t feel as natural as their Luna Lounge show, I think he fits in perfectly with Demander. Karen and Sivan were at it again. While Sivan beat her kit like it was a drunk causing trouble at Bside, Karen let us know that under their thick skin there is some frailty and uncertainty when maneuvering through this Wicked World.
During change over I managed to catch up with some people, but for the most part I wasn’t ready for a big night. With no end in site, I readied myself for the These Bones assault. The boys sounded so much better this time around. Their Delancey show felt a bit strange. Bones played a great set, but I couldn’t get into it. Friday night was completely different. From the first chord they were on, and they looked like a band ready for that type of gig. Hopefully we can get them on the road and someone will take notice so they can reach an audience that will surely dig them. Visually speaking bones hung a flyer bearing their namesake that added more flair to a band whose eye candy is only match by their ear candy.
After a two-piece called The Gaskets played a few songs of synth pop that reminded me of Opti-Grab without the obvious Beastie Boys chip on their shoulders, RANA took the stage go lay it down for the crowd. RANA may not always sound like my particular brand of rock, but their bluesy side keeps me hungry. They kicked it all the way into level ten jams by 1:30am, but the night was getting the best of me so the plug got pulled.
Drinking Makes You Sexy.
If this were true, then I would have been a super model on Saturday. Builder, Jon and I managed to fight off our hangovers in pursuit of brunch. We ended up at Café Colonial on Houston and Elizabeth. If you hit this place, make sure to try the salmon sandwich with basil mayo. It is what Builder calls delicious. We decided to enjoy a bit of the weather before holing up and wasting the day. This entailed a walk over to visit Mike who was pulling a shift at the Apple Store. We found Stevo and Lisa inside doing the same. That’s the thing about Mike Rothfeld, you always want to say hello to him. He is a great kid.
Stevo, Jon, Builder and I made our way back to 186 where we were joined by Jordan to sip some gin and tonics while sitting on the fire escape. The day became night and we all got sauced. Dan, Kyle, Hawkins and Dee showed up and we wasted the evening in the kitchen playing cards and the newly beloved quarter hockey. Christie checked in on the tail end of the evening, but my ass was grass by 3am.
Who's City? Our City.
My original Sunday plan involved me watching the final day of the Olympics with little or no interruption. These aspirations were shattered by 10:30am when I was stirred by Kyle, Builder, Dan and Dee who were getting psyched for the huge protest. At the eleventh hour I decided to jump on the train and do my civic duty. We met up with Chris, Lou and Scott on 12th Street and 7th Avenue near the beginning of the march.
We were decked out in our hand made t-shirts that Kyle sketched earlier. My shirt read, “Voting Bush is Gay,” while the rest of the kids donned shirts with stick figures getting fucked by the President. They were truly a stroke of genius. We made the entire route with a stop in front of the Garden to scream at the cops and Republicans who were smoking pipes out front. We marched, we screamed, we danced, we sang and we felt like what we did made a difference. Hopefully you take strides to do the same between now and November.
My thanks to Dan for working me down and convincing me that my participation in the event, though minute, is crucial to the overall message it sends to the rest of the country.
After the protest we stopped for some grub before I returned home to relax for a bit. Cami and Leah stopped down to hang for a few before I made my way to Brooklyn for a VMA party at Emma and Ramie’s apartment. Pooja and I met up to take the F train ride together. She made fun of my distaste and fear of the outer borough the entire ride. We were interrupted by a performer who played show tunes that Pooja claimed were Stevie Wonder songs. In retrospect, they were Wonder songs, but I thought it would have been cooler if he was playing the theme song of Family Ties.
Ryan and Noah met us out front of their place in the Slope and we cruised through the heat to the apartment. We scored some grub at the supermarket along with enough beer to get us through the horror to come. To tell you the truth, I didn’t hate the VMA’s though I do think they focus on some of the wrong talent. Jay-Z’s video should have done better. It was welcomed risk in a market seized by bling and tits, but the judges didn’t think so. Jet didn’t sound like shit, and using Iggy’s riff certainly didn’t hurt their chances, but coupling them with Hoobastank and Yellowcard made me realize that our style of music doesn’t stand a chance on a large scale stage. It doesn’t have the impact of an Usher or Outkast. Jay-Z and Beyonce were uber cute when they gave shout outs to each other at the end of their respective acceptance speeches. Usher was the big winner, but it would have benefited all of us if MTV rushed him off the stage a bit. My favorite couple of the evening was Mandy Moore and Marilyn Manson. Is there something going on with them? God hopes so.
Anyway, the show wrapped up as did the party and my ass was back in the station waiting for the train. Why can’t they move Brooklyn over so it’s attached to Manhattan?
Before I Get Upset.
*** Some strange news reported from the Weezer Camp. The boys have scrapped the 5th record’s Rick Rubin sessions (I smell bootlegs and b-sides) and decided to produce their own record. This could get interesting. Let’s hope they pull it off. With Rubin steering the spiritual ship, could they return to former greatness?
On another note, did anyone read today's NY Post? It was extremely offensive. Unfortunately, I'm trying to type these comments while our former Mayor pumps up the Commander and Chief. People, please don't be fooled by this insane rhetoric. Keep your thoughts grounded in the reality of the situation.
Heroes, sacrifice, true freedom? God bless each one we’ve lost. Every soul. Every single person. And God Bless America. Holy shit these guys are good. They just play the same card and people are to afraid to throw their chips on the table. Quit grinding it out America. It’s time to make a run. Fuck.
I’m so frustrated, but let me get back to the Post. While news outlets such as CNN who site protest organizer estimates (half million) or the NY Times who loosely stated a police estimate (half million), the NY Post had a law-enforcement source that chopped the number down considerably, (120k). Not only did they short change the demonstrators, the Rupert Murdock Newsletter skewed the actual peaceful nature of the crowd by running a picture of what was one frame of Anarchy in a roll of a billion positive images. In case you miss an hour of Fox News after a long day in the office, you don’t have to worry because the NY Post will have an official Arrest Count red box of danger in your morning edition.
Spare me any comments about how this has always been the case, because this is the first time I saw it first hand, and it is a disturbing realization.
And could somebody please hide Andrea Peyser’s computer from her? Come, come you NY Post employees; I know you have it in you. Take her computer and smash it so she can’t pollute the paper carrying her print. In this column the self indulgent Peyser condemns a young girl for protesting without having a full understanding of the meaning of her actions or the power of her words. Is she discouraging young people from getting involved in politics? Is she aiming to belittle the young girl’s intention which would inevitable strengthen her political alignment? Anyway you read it, she sounds like a fool. She pigeonholes the entire dissonance movement as a bunch of rich hippies who don’t know what they are fighting for. She couldn’t be further from the truth. Yesterday made each and every protester feel as though they were not alone. We realized the importance of order in our pursuit of truth. In this ideological battle with the existing system we managed to find the most moralistic means to state our opinions without violence or any serious offense to the law. Starbucks’ Revolution? What cross section of the march did you interview? Or are you sure you didn’t just wander into the Old Navy to check for deals on their new fall line?
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