entertainment addiction => requires no intervention
September 21, 2008
i’m headed to austin city limits this weekend, where i’ll see not one but seventeen bands whose sounds make me melt. among them are what made milwaukee famous, the freddy jones band, iron & wine, MGMT, css, beck, NERD, erykah badu … lordy the list goes on. i’ll get back into town just in time to head to rusted root and then stereolab, the later this month to thao nguyen, the french kicks, exit clov and m83.
plus i’m going to see murray (rhys darby) from flight of the conchords. i should probably wear depends to that.
good thing i do freelance to pay for (and sustain) my addiction to entertainment…
manhattan madness
September 19, 2008
driving up on a saturday morning to spend the night in nyc with a girlfriend and return the next day might seem like a whirlwind experience hardly worth the trouble. people who think that are lame.
last weekend, the swope monster and i throttled up 95 in no more than three hours flat to shop and hit the comedy cellar in the greatest city on earth. aside from the expected wait to get through the holland tunnel and then tool down to the lower east side, where we’d meet up with josh and head to spitzers for lunch, the trip was easy — THUS setting the tone for the rest of the weekend … almost.
after scoring a $165 parking ticket (EPIC FAIL) but then finding another just yards away (this one NOT blocking a pedestrian ramp = WIN), we sidled through the heat to the aforementioned spitzers on rivington and somethingerother. as everywhere was, the windows were open and we sat in the cooled “back room” where the stifling sun didn’t reach. there, i ate the greatest grilled cheese on earth. swope’s was the second greatest. probably.
josh headed out and we parted with a coworker and her man, then set off to uncommon choice for shoes that not everyone appreciates. sure i dropped some cash i hadn’t inteded to drop but my shoe collection now contains black pinstripe pumps with tape measures on them. i feel more complete now.
on home after getting caught in the rain and frequenting a couple street festivals, where we got dolled up and tried to fit into the crowd we’d expect to see in the west village and soho. i think it worked, because we totally owned the olive branch that night, and we got seated practically onstage during the comedy show, where we were pulled into comedians’ acts throughout.
the next day, we hit up my old stomping grounds — chelsea market — where i’d spent loads of time while working for a startup. there’s something sweet about having worked with the radasses at mlb… maybe someday i’ll head back there with them, this time as their direct employee instead of through the partnership. but i digress.
josh lost his phone in the cab, but some nice fellow actually called me after seeing my number in josh’s most recently called list — we headed to the upper east side, picked it up, spent an hour going four blocks to get through the lincoln tunnel, then sped back to nova leaving romantic memories behind us.
except, when i got back — and, admittedly, before i left — i knew something had changed drastically in my brain. not only had i recently come to the conclusion that i needed to have music a bigger part of my life, but now i realize its no coincidence that nyu and columbia were both in my top four choices.
i have to move to nyc. so, i will.
achieving radassness = yes
July 14, 2008
this weekend was totally rad. on friday night i was definitely a radass surrounded by three other radasses, and here’s the story of why.
i flew from washington to tampa on thursday night after a seriously busy week — among only a handful like it this year, and thankfully so. i was ready for a long weekend in florida with gabs and keith (henceforth referred to instead as cheech because it’s funnier) and, almost equally so, a little run-in with a one dave matthews.
and by run-in, i mean observe.
see, dave matthews plays shows two nights in a row in west palm beach each year. i’ve been invited but hadn’t come before. maybe it’s better; my first night after a four-hour car-ride was well worth the wait.
and here’s the story of why
(is there an echo in here?)
cheech only had two tickets for the friday night show, but four (the number in our group) for saturday. so, he decided to sell the mere two tickets on friday night and we’d just go all together saturday. the problem was, cheech instantly experienced the pangs of seller’s remorse and suggested we all head to the concerts in hopes of nabbing some last-minute deals from the scalpers outside. it was a great idea, except we were rolling out of the hotel 30 minutes before the show was pegged to start, so we had to haul radass.
we arrived at the most precise moment on earth, because we got funneled into the back parking lot and then … wait for it … about 30 yards from the FRONT DOOR of the ampitheatre. as we rolled up, a man approached us and offered tickets $5 below our own internal limit we’d set on the way over. to make it just slightly better, there was no line at the beer and soft pretzel hut (awwhwhhcghh), and we walked right up into the lawn where we promptly sat next to some kind elderlyish stoners *just* in time for dave to walk out onstage.
he was beautiful. like a beacon of smart music wonderousness shining in a land of plastic boobs and ugly dudes driving hot cars.
actually, his bass player is more beatiful.
but, the point is, the next two hours included a perfectly warm summer night near the ocean with an old friend and his vanilla sugar magic band, playing for me as i transitioned from dancing to laying on my back looking at the stars to laughing at the memories flooding my brain as a particular chord is brought to life again right before me, only to be followed by another, and then another…
the set was my ideal. when i heard ants marching, i was transported somewhere that i wanted to slide on over my brain like a sock of familiar comfort that smells of your childhood home during thanksgiving. yes, that’s what i wanted to do. with one pregnant song after another, particularly #41, i felt so serene and satisfied; like i was being fed the food my soul needed that night — an evening populated with only the sweetest memories seemingly all scored by dave matthews.
i’m not even sorry. he’s brilliant.
to top off our radasses and our kickass night, we walked out and hopped into our car faster than anyone, thereby securing our easy, no breaks needed whatsoever exit from a venue slammed with tens of thousands of cars.
so rad. so, so very rad.
two days in laguna beach
May 27, 2008
i spent the weekend in laguna beach, attending a wedding at this posh resort and spa overlooking the pacific. the wind was cold as it blew in over the cliff on which the bride and groom exchanged vows, her veil blowing gently behind her and her shoulders held high trying failingly to shield herself from the cooler-than-comfortable breeze. the trees were draped with flower petals on strands and votive candles hanging in protective glass vases. everything was crazy beautiful.
i was really enamored with the setting, but found myself distracted by the priest who made the duo proclaim that “yes,” they would gladly accept children god blessed them with. this is probably normal, but it’s weird to me that i’d ever say “yes, i can’t wait to procreate with my partner, and i proudly proclaim that to all of you we’re paying to celebrate with us today; oh, and in front of god, too.” just seemed like a private moment.
anyway, but the wedding just populated an otherwise pleasant but enlightening two days in laguna beach. i’d been there about ten years ago on spring break my freshmen year of college while neel was finishing his first year at pomona. then, it was just “this cool town called laguna beach.” we spent the day there. it was cool. then the mtv show came out and i looked at it differently. see, the town apparently was founded by artists, and there are tons of studios and galleries littering the outskirts of town and along aliso canyon drive, which is beautiful (on a different level) like pacific coast highway.
but this time, two moments stick out in my head that made me not want to return, despite its incredible beauty. one happened when julius and i were strolling down a side street off the beaten path, and a woman literally reached her hand out to stop me, and shouted “your jacket.”
“what about it?” i asked. she didn’t say anything, but kept staring at my jacket. i got this particular jacket from jcpenney about three years ago. i suddenly became incredibly and uncomfortably aware of it.
“do you like it?” i asked slowly, not sure what she was getting at. she just pointed more and said “the buttons.”
one of my buttons wasn’t aligned with its proper hole match. my bad.
“oh thanks,” i said, adjusting it.
“i just didn’t want you to go out there [to the main street] without fixing it.”
um, thanks? [insert awkward laugh] thanks for saving me from irreparable judgment?
PS clearly she didn’t like my jcpenney jacket, since she never answered my question. but no matter. the damage had been done. i’d felt totally naked in a way i don’t normally. i felt awkward and fake, like an imposter. i guess i was. but where are all these artists i’d naturally identify myself with? why have they been taken over by the elites?
the second happened just a couple hours later over lunch. in a french bistro overlooking the ocean, a woman literally made a waitress cry. when the waitress had stopped to ask “how is everything,” this particular patron who, no lie, clearly had her face altered (is that too stereotypical, or just reality?), responded, “where do i begin?”
the waitress was mortified, both at the response and the level of the woman’s voice. the problem? her daughter’s croissant wasn’t warm, and her eggs benedict didn’t come with whatever sauce it was supposed to come with. did it stop either of them from eating? no, but it definitely prompted a stern talking to. the waitress apologized, but the verbal assault continued. finally, i realized through the waitress’ thick accented apologies that she had started crying, and then the woman’s friend said, “oh no; we didn’t mean to make you cry.”
the waitress comped the breakfasts, both of which were less than $10 at this little cafe; and both of which equated to one thousandth of an hour’s time of each of their plastic surgeons’ fees, no doubt. but maybe it was all about the principle. isn’t it always?
PS after the waitress brought the bill for what i assume were some mimosas, the friend said, “don’t cry, we like you.”
phew. that was a close one.
had the wedding and company not been divine — plus had i not met up with an old friend in santa monica for thai and drinks, which was just brilliant and lovely — i might have felt completely out of place that weekend.
flying back to detroit at sunrise, i looked out over the greenery of the midwest and realized in an instant why some refer to my native region as “wholesome.”
maybe because we’re willing to shop at jcpenney.
or maybe it’s just me.
