If you've recently happened upon this site looking for the latest in Evan Kessler news, why then this very post is the bearer of bad news. You won't be able to find the most recent Evan Kessler updates anymore on this here blog. After two years of delightful toil on blogspot, I'd like to think that I've moved onto bigger and better things. No, I haven't become an international blog superstar, nor have I signed my first book deal. Heck, I haven't even starred in a movie about my life with either Elisha Cuthbert or Winona Ryder as my leading lady Pamela Handsdottir. I've merely moved this venture to a sleeker, more polished location.
Don't fret...you'll still be able to catch all your Evan Kessler antics by typing in the magic words, EvanKessler.com and all of the old posts will still be there in their ragged, gramatically incorrect glory, but they'll just look nicer. I'd like to take this opportunity to thank Blogspot for being so easy to use and Marty for giving me this blog template. It's been good to me, but alas I must grow and learn as I continue to pathetically inflate my ego thinking that somehow my musings and meanderings will serve as a complement to your moderately meaningful existence.
Thanks for the memories 'n' stuff...but let's stop living in the past and start anew. Onwards and upwards.
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
We've Moved!
Friday, June 27, 2008
The Phairest Of Them All
In the April of 1999 I went town to Binghamton University with a few friends from Syracuse to catch that school’s year end Student only concert or block party, or whatever they call that thing down there. While I was certainly not an undergrad at that particular university, I was definitely a fan of the headlining act on the bill. After sitting through a few mediocre bands including some guy named David Mead who sounded like your average white guy Jack Johnson/Dave Matthews hippie crooner the day’s anticipation gave way to satisfaction as Liz Phair took the stage. Before she started into her set I had been filled with skepticism because a friend who had previously seen her play sometime during the run of her first two albums had told me that she wasn’t very good live. Not only was Ms. Phair excellent that day, but she had blown me away with an assorted selection of songs from her first three albums, 1993’s landmark Exile In Guyville, her able 1994 follow up Whip Smart and her more recent, slightly more adult sounding, but still ever so enjoyable whitechocolatespaceegg.
Despite having heard of her tentative stage demeanor and previous disappointing performance, there was a certain confidence that her songs exuded that made up for maybe not the most dynamic stage presence. I wasn’t expecting a KISS show and I didn’t get one. I got a quality rock show from a great artist at the peak of her performing powers.
Fast forward two months later, I was living with that same friend who had raised doubt about Ms. Phair’s performance prowess in April, at an NYU dorm on 10th Street and 3rd Avenue as we were both ensconced in Summer internships for the next few months. One evening my brother called me with the news that the same Liz Phair of whom both my roommate and I were huge fans was playing a show at a Calvin Klein event and we would be able to grace the venue with our attendance despite it being a charity event to which we were not contributing any funds.
Later that evening we witnessed a very intimate set that probably consisted of no more than seven or eight songs. Before the show, my brother was backstage taking photographs for the event and got the artist in question to autograph a bag for me. Being the pathetic fan that I was, I held that bag up to try and show Liz the entire show. I was twenty years old and I was an idiot. Nonetheless, it was a rare experience that I probably didn’t think I could ever duplicate.
Several weeks ago, while looking through a bevy of emails in my Inbox deciding what to trash, I came upon a bulletin which alerted me to a special show at Hiro Ballroom featuring the distinguished Miss Phair, who would be performing her 1993 opus Exile In Guyville in it’s entirety. Thrilled at the prospect I immediately asked my friend if he was interested in going and when the time came around to attempt to purchase tickets, I was on it. Unfortunately, “on it” meant more like cable company on it or electric company on it. I was an hour too late and by the time I placed my order for ticketmaster the two night run was all sold out.
However, yesterday afternoon, as I sat in dispose in a very private area of my house, I received a text message from my friend Marie. In said text message it inquired as to whether I had any interest in attending Liz Phair’s performance the very next day for the show at Hiro Ballroom that I could not get tickets for. Jazzed isn’t a good way to describe how I felt, but I’d like it to suffice for now. I immediately accepted her invitation throwing any other plans I might have had for Thursday evening into the recycling bin of alcoholic indulgence. I’ve had my issues with Ms. Phair’s musical output over the past few years, but this was a one of a kind experience that I was not going to miss.
It was around 7pm this evening when I left my apartment in Park Slope to meet Marie in Manhattan for the show. I was running a little late because I was fumbling with a few personal belongings, deciding if I needed to bring my iPod on the train or something to read. God forbid I had to spend thirty minutes on the 2/3 not listening to music or reading something. What did people do before the advent of electronics? I’m sure they weren’t too concerned about occupying their time in transport when they were sitting in the back of the wagon dying of hay fever or wondering where there next meal came from. In any case, I decided to go it without musical or literary accompaniment and rough it. I did have my camera with me, but that was for the show.
I got out of the Subway at 14th Street and 7th Avenue at exactly 7:29, one minute before I was to meet Marie. Fortunately, Marie is a patient person because I still had a few blocks to walk as Hiro was at the corner of 16th and 9th. When I happened upon Marie she was reading as people are wont to do when they’re waiting, we said our hellos. Marie had gotten the tickets for free from her promoter friend who I met outside the door and who also was generous enough to give us drink tickets. This was the life. When we got inside we found that we had a booth reserved for us and two other people as well. Things were getting better before they got worse. It was certainly a dose of good fortune.
The rest of our night would be a mixture of feast and famine. At around 8:35pm as Marie and I enjoyed our maiden drink, Liz Phair stepped out on stage to a warm applause and a high level of enthusiasm. She alerted the audience that she was wearing heels and made an allusion to a lyric in the first song off of Exile in Guyville saying that tonight she’d be standing 6” 1′ instead of 5” 5 adding three inches to the latter number. And just like that she was off launching into “6′1″, her shaky, nearly monotone timbre filling the room with a palpable excitement. The characterization of her voice isn’t meant to be an insult, it’s what gives her music such rich character. It’s not concerned with being pretty, it’s more along the lines of a bluntly honest conversational tone that’s not being sugar coated with melisma or acrobatics that span the vocal ranges. Conversely, that’s probably the reason her fans have largely ignored her last two albums as they seemed to be efforts to craft pretty pop songs over forthright ones. I guess you can’t blame a girl for trying to make some money.
In the early going, Marie and I noticed a group of girls standing to the right of our booth. In our estimation, they couldn’t have been over the age of 24. We assumed they were in the audience to either hear her more recent pop songs, despite the fact that it was plain by the reason for the show that those songs wouldn’t be played. They were dressed as if they were going to see Sex And The City on opening night, despite the fact it had already occurred. The lot of them had Cosmos in their hand and were blabbing aloud over the music during “Glory” and Marie turned to them and gave them a nice “Shush!” It was then that these kids retreated to the bar in back of our booth where I heard one of them utter, “it’s her 21st birthday! Let’s do shots!” So yes, these girls were six years old when Exile In Guyville was released. As they stood in the back getting their drunk on and loudly cavorting, Liz Phair continued to play her landmark album that these girls probably could’ve taken a lesson or two from.
With the kids relegated to the rear of the venue fading in and out of earshot and probably taking frequent cigarette breaks, a new threat to musical enjoyment emerged. A couple that looked to be on their second or third date who were perpetually at that point in the date where conversation just flows stood nearby datin’ and conversatin’ with little to no regard for the surrounding masses. The girl sitting next to Marie shushed them, and they dropped out for a bit. They along with the girls got repeated scoldings, but were fairly unaffected. New rule: if someone has to tell you more than once at a rock concert to shut up, you’re talking too loud and you’re probably a huge asshole.
All distractions aside, the show itself was really enjoyable. I think the thing that kind of caught me off guard about it was that I had never seen an entire show that was just one album played straight through. There was no mystery about what would come next. I knew that “Canary” would be followed by “Mesmerizing”, “Fuck and Run”, “Girls, Girls, Girls” and “Divorce Song”.
Another positive thing that caught my attention was the amount of maturity in the audience. It wasn’t only that most of the crowd resembled the same late 20’s to late 30’s indie rock fans of yore, but also it was the maturity level. Nobody yelled in celebration when the C word was uttered during “Dance of The Seven Veils” and there was not one morsel of merriment sounded when she alerted the males in the audience she wanted to be their “blow job queen” during “Flower”. It was all very refreshing and quite a delight to experience.
I took measured delight as the album motored along towards the end. I thought back fondly on singing along to both “Stratford On Guy” and “Strange Loop” on my long car rides to and from Syracuse and realized that I hadn’t listened to Guyville straight through in a very long time. By the end of the show I was extremely glad that I was getting the chance to run through the whole thing yet again, but this time with a live flavor.
As the last note in Strange Loop was sounded and Liz thanked everyone, I wondered how much if any of an encore she could come out for. She was only supposed to play one album. Had she planned any more surprises. She was only playing four dates on this tour, I couldn’t imagine she had rehearsed a terrible many songs.
After the tiniest of waits, she came out yet again and sat down at the piano, hammering out a great version of “Chopsticks” off of Whip-Smart, followed by “May Queen” off of that same album, which had been yelled out as a request when she re-took the stage. Her guitar playing was a tad bit tentative but it was understandable. It seemed as though it had been awhile since playing these songs and it’s not always like riding a bike. Take it from me. I’m not a musician.
The show finished up on a positively unique and rather fun note. Liz started off playing her take on the famed classic rock song “Wild Thing” which was part of her Girlysound Demos from before Exile. Obviously rusty, she stopped playing at one point and solicited help from a guy in the front row. She let him come up on stage and help out. At first she thought he was just going to sing the lyrics, but he took over on guitar duties and allowed her to pick up the lyrics of the last verse. Finally, the show ended with a decent rendition of “Polyester Bride” that sent this audience member home plenty happy.
Liz Phair @ Hiro Ballroom NYC 6/26/08
| 1. 6′1″ |
| 2. Help Me Mary |
| 3. Glory |
| 4. Dance of the Seven Veils |
| 5. Never Said |
| 6. Soap Star Joe |
| 7. Explain It to Me |
| 8. Canary |
| 9. Mesmerizing |
| 10. Fuck and Run |
| 11. Girls! Girls! Girls! |
| 12. Divorce Song |
| 13. Shatter |
| 14. Flower |
| 15. Johnny Sunshine |
| 16. Gunshy |
| 17. Stratford-on-Guy |
| 18. Strange Loop ————————- 19. Chopsticks 20. May Queen 21. Wild Thing 22. Polyester Bride |
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Going Greene
Hey Blog fans, I've been more or less putting off this weekend recap for two reasons:
A) I wanted to give the previous post a little more breathing room
and...
2) It wasn't that exciting of a weekend, though there were some highlights.
Part one of said weekend did not contain any real fireworks of any sort. Seeing as I had gone out the previous three nights of the week, I felt none too compelled to make something happen on Friday evening. I left a few messages on a few people's voicemail, but when I received no callbacks I was none too stressed. Instead, I chose the modern comfort of watching television programs "on demand."
The most notable viewing I took in on Friday night was that of the Guitar Hero episode of South Park Episode. I think it is actually the only episode in the show's 10 plus season run that I had not seen. It was quite the serendipitous occasion whereby I stumbled upon it, because within those twenty three or so minutes of crappily animated glory were several excellent belly laughs, including the very last joke which made the entire episode worthwhile. I'm not going to spoil it if you haven't seen it, but if you haven't, I suggest heading over to South Park Studios and doing so.
Other than that, Friday was a snooze, so rather than tarry about, I decided to look towards Saturday, and the array of activity that lay ahead. When one mentions "array of activity" during the course of the Summer weekend it usually only means one thing, BBQs!
Saturday morning I awoke rather late, but I shuffled off to the Tea Lounge and managed to get some work done before leaving at 2pm or so. After that I sort of loitered around until it was time to meet my friend Jess S near the Lafayette stop in Ft. Greene. The two of us had been invited to her friend's Summer and Kyle's 1st Day of Summer Barbecue off of Lafayette Street at their lovely garden apartment. When we arrived we weren't exactly greeted by a host of people. There were a decent amount of people there but they were all seated already immersed in conversation. I think it was the first time I'd ever been to an outdoor barbecue where everyone had sufficient space to sit.
I wasn't familiar with most of the guests at the party, though two of them, Saimon and Sierra were old friends from the VHfun days. I spent a little bit of time chatting with them about some of our mutual friends and various projects. They didn't stick around too long though, seeing as they had to go to one of those mutual friend's birthday party in Central Park. For the rest of the party, Jess and I were situated at a table enjoying some samples of BBQ goodness, mostly just chips, dips, and the like, but tasty nonetheless.
Funnily enough, I began to chat with the two people seated diagonally from my person, who also happened to be named Evan and Jess. Both were writers, and one was an editor at a cigar magazine called Smoke. We enjoyed a bit of a spirited conversation until sometime between 8 and 9pm when Jess and I made for the exit. Jess headed to another party that required a hike the subway, whereas I headed to a party a mere two blocks away celebrating Jeff P's acceptance into the NYU screenwriting program (I think).
Before heading over to Jeff's I stopped to grab beer and when I arrived I was greeted by a host of friendly faces in the backyard...though the only one's that were familiar were that of Janet, Erica E, and Andy. As I was already suitably buzzed, acclimating myself to the rest of the crowd was easy as pie. As I sat talking to a girl named Ursula and spread the conversation over the rest of the group I recognized one of the other faces at the end of table as someone I had met on the party bus celebrating my friend Renga's 30th. I had spent a good deal of that evening talking with a pleasant brunette named Amanda and her boyfriend Josh. Here they were again, by not so coincidence. Josh had apparently gone to Syracuse with us, though I had failed to ascertain this fact at our previous meeting.
Amanda, Andy, and Laughter (and Ketchup Too!)
Joe Vs. The Volcano Sequel: Jeff vs. The TreeSeveral minutes prior to leaving my apartment the rain began to pour. Blinding towards of water were soaking the sidewalk and I couldn't find an umbrella. Luckily, just before giving up I found a cheap one hanging conveniently in the only place I had yet to look, the front door knob. I made my way out towards 5th avenue to notice the peculiarity of the weather situation. I had known of and been in sunshowers before, but never really actually stopped to ponder them. Here I was walking with an umbrella over my head as the rain showered down upon my protective shield, yet when I moved it to peer at the makeup of the sky, I mostly just saw clear blue. Where was all of this rain coming from?
Meanwhile, around me were plenty of people walking around sans umbrella despite the heavy rains, carrying on as if there was nothing falling on them at all. As I neared 5th avenue I even saw people waiting on line at the outdoor ice cream stand. It was almost as if I was in a bizarre dream where I was the only one affected...I actually felt like I was in a bizarro dimension until I saw one other person using an umbrella and I let out a bit of a sigh.
At dinner Andrew and I discussed this bizarre phenomenon amongst other things. Afterwards we went for a stroll down 5th avenue towards Flatbush and back again, but by then the rain had ceased to be a factor. When we made it back to Union we parted ways and I headed back home and let the book close on a relatively relaxed weekend.
P.S. Before I close out this post...vote in the dang reader poll about the previous post...and check out the new potential look for EvanKessler.com.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Is Change Good?
Hey EvanKessler.com readers, I'm not ready to recap the weekend as I'm still trying to remember half of it. It'll come with time. I have a better long term memory than short term one, so give it a few hours. In any case, over the past day and a half I've been debating a change for this here site. Nothing too drastic...Ok, well that's not true...I've been thinking of doing a complete design overhaul and moving the site to wordpress as I've also decided that I needed to move Trendliest to Wordpress so that it will look neater and more professional.
While, Trendliest will definitely have a new home, I'm on the fence about moving EK.com there. As you may or may not remember the site underwent a complete overhaul two years ago and I know the two or three people who read the site had some misgivings about abandoning the old look, but it was necessary and made things a helluva lot easier.
I'm not going to make a huge pros and cons list as to the benefits of Wordpress over Blogger, I'm just going to say, Wordpress gives me the opportunity to tack on additional pages. I was toying with the idea of a F.A.Q. section and I already added the "Testimonial" page back from the previous incarnation, though truthfully I'm having trouble uploading photos. Luckily, the ease of Wordpress made transferring 600 plus posts and the additional user comments simple thanks to the feature that allows you to do so at the click of a button.
In any case, if I move to wordpress, nothing would change for you as I'd forward the EvanKessler.com address to that site...this site would still live here and if you ever got nostalgic for blogger you could still look back on the old days I suppose. Ultimately, the decision rests with you...the readers...though I can't imagine too many people actually caring, but if you comment on whether you prefer one over the other, I'll certainly hold your opinion in the highest regard. In any case, check out the Wordpress version...Compare. Contrast. Let your feelings be known on the subject matter.
Also, in case you don't like reading posts I'll just post a poll.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Rocking Out Is The Best Revenge
If laughter is the best medicine then rocking out has to be a close second, because the four plus hours spent in the acoustically friendly confines of Madison Square Garden this evening certainly did the trick in terms of lifting me out of any recent doldrums. Several months ago Andrew Morton had done an excellent job in staying abreast of the summer concert happenings and inquired as to whether or not I would want to go with him to see R.E.M. take to the world's most famous arena to turn it into the world's most presently rocking one. Without hesitation I accepted his invitation and before I knew it we had arrived at the date of the event in question, June 19, 2008.
I spent most of the day somewhat ignorant to the fact that I was going to a concert in the evening. I was excited about the show but for some reason not filled with the usual anticipation for a show that I'm terribly excited about. Maybe it's that I'd seen R.E.M. perform somewhere in the neighborhood of seven times before and I pretty much knew what to expect or maybe it's just because I haven't felt terribly excited about anything lately. When the clock struck 6pm I made way towards midtown with a ho-hum, I'll get there when I get there demeanor.
I made better time than I thought I would as I exited the 34th Street BQ station at around 6:45. I was supposed to me Andrew and Renga at 7pm in front of the arena, so I had some time to kill. Rather then shuffle in and out of stores or restaurants, I decided to park myself in front of the Fuse building, but as I crossed the street to make my way to the video screen monstrosity that is housed at the front of that building my phone rang. The voice on the other end was Goody, who was on the side of the street from whence I came. He was waving at me along with our old high school buddy JK and his girlfriend Stephanie. Rather than stand by my lonesome waiting for Andrew and Renga I turned right back around and crossed the street to hang out with Goody and JK for a few minutes and make some small talk before they decided to make for their seats on account of wanting to catch the openers.
It was only a few minutes later that my two fellow concert going pals happened upon me as I stood in front of the Chase Kiosk outside of Madison Square Garden and we happily made for the insides of the arena as I joked about being excited to finally get the opportunity to catch a New York Liberty game. Ah, the WNBA it's faaaaantastic...on opposite day. Upon entry and finding our way through Tower A towards gate 79 we stopped at the beer stand featuring the imported versions of our favorite frothy beverage from lands as distant as Canada (Labatt's Blue) and the Czech Republic (Pilsner Urquell). Andrew and I settled on Labatt's citing that it was a full 50 cents cheaper at $7.75 than Laura's eurotrash Bass Ale and it still came with a pretzel rod firmly entrenched in the handle. Ah, the pretzel rod, one of life's simple pleasures.
Andrew and Renga enjoy their brew and pretzel rodsAfter the National's set ended Andrew and I went up to get hot dogs and were met with the two options of either a "Jumbo Dog" or "Foot long". The Jumbo was a longer than a normal hot dog and the foot long, well, it was a foot long, but only cost 50 cents more. Despite getting more bang for the buck, I didn't fall into the trap of the foot long, because frankly, there's only so much hot dog taste I wanted in my mouth for the next three days.
Jumbo vs. Foot long Hot DogIt was around 9pm when Michael Stipe, Mike Mills, Peter Buck, sideman Scott McCaughey, and tour drummer Bill Rieflin took to the Madison Square Garden stage. In a span of several seconds it became apparent that they were there to rock the hell out of the place. Opening with one of Accelerate's more upbeat numbers, Living Well Is The Best Revenge, the band launched the crowd into a rock 'n' roll frenzy and that freight train kept 'a rolling for what more or less accounted for the entirety of the two plus hour show. The last time I encountered R.E.M. in an arena setting was on my birthday in 2004, two days after the re-election of George W. Bush at MSG. The city of New York, the crowd, and especially the band was in a dour mood following that travesty. Tonight, Michael Stipe took a few opportunities to acknowledge that show, but he and the band seemed full of optimism about the impending election and it reflected in their mood and performance.
This was a show that was not built for fairweather fans who liked "Man on The Moon" and "Losing My Religion". The band vigorously delved into past gems such as "Disturbance at The Heron House", "Harborcoat", "Ignoreland", "These Days", and (Don't Go Back To) Rockville" amongst a host of other favorites while mercilessly leaving out slower hits like "Everybody Hurts". I think the only albums ignored in the setlist were 1983's Murmur and 2001's Reveal.
They also dusted off "Leaving New York" which they had not rehearsed all tour and which I think had not been played since the post-election New York show. The new songs captivated just as effectively as the old ones. "Man-Sized Wreath" and "Horse to Water" seemed to be sonic proof that despite their advancing years R.E.M. is not ready to fade away anytime soon.
R.E.M. performing "Pretty Persuasion"
The only negative part of the show had absolutely nothing to do with R.E.M., rather it was a product of a girl sitting directly one row in front of Laura, Andrew and I who talked straight through the last half hour of the show before the encore. Normally you wouldn't expect one person's voice to be so distracting during a loud, bombastic rock show, but when that person is trying her best to talk louder than the music being blared at brain blasting volume...for that long, you're going to notice it. I don't think I'll ever stand people who see fit to pay a large sum of money to go to a show and then persist to ignore the goings on as if they were at a dinner party. Anyway, Andrew gave her the ol' shush sign entering the encore and she mostly shut up...or she spent time whispering into her friends' ears how appalled she was that someone signaled her to shut up.
The encore itself was pretty much the only "Greatest Hits" portion, though it led off with eardrum cracking "Supernatural Superserious" which led into radio favorite "Losing My Religion" and three songs later into "Man On The Moon". When the show came to a close around 11:20pm the feeling was one of exhilaration. We had just witnessed two hours of high spirited arena rock for the ages, affirming the greatness of a band that will stand the test of time.
(currently working on uploading some video...be patient...I may need to edit a clip)
R.E.M. @ Madison Square Garden June 19, 2008
Living Well Is The Best Revenge
These Days
What's The Frequency Kenneth?
Bad Day
Drive
Hollow Man
Ignoreland
Man-Sized Wreath
Leaving New York
Disturbance At TheHeron House
Houston
Electrolite
(Don't Go Back To) Rockville
Driver 8
Harborcoat
The One I Love
Until The Day Is Done
Let Me In
Horse To Water
Pretty Persuasion
Orange Crush
I'm Gonna DJ
--------------------
Supernatural Superserious
Losing My Religion
Begin The Begin
Fall On Me
Man on the Moon
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Space Is A Vacuum
I'm not really how to start today's post. It's been a few days since I've really felt like writing. I'm not even sure I feel like doing so right now as I'm in somewhat of a foul, if unmotivated mood. In the past few days, I've done my fair share of sulking and stressing and other things you do when your future and livelihood are put into question.
Last weekend during what was largely an enjoyable get together of friends, one of said friends kept prodding me at every conversational turn by repeating the phrase "Why don't you blog about it." Now, it was not my belief that this was done with malicious intent or to make me feel as though the means of my self-expression were completely and utterly disposable, but the latter was the actual result. The jokey manner in which my means of expressing my thoughts, humor, and general ideas were bandied about as if I too would agree that my desire to actually be a writer is something worth snickering about, left me feeling somewhat down.
It's difficult enough to get those you aspire to do work for to pay attention to the fact that you do indeed possess an ability with the written word, but when even those who you count on to prop you up in rough times use your aspirations as a substitute for humorous conversational fodder, it's hard not to question the validity of those aspirations.
The problem with "reaching for the stars" in any medium is that once you finally feel as though you reach the stars (read: do anything you're proud of) and finally yell out an exclamatory remark in excitement, you realize that space is a vacuum...and no one can hear you scream. The internet is a lot like outer space only instead of having a whole lot of nothingness to wade through there's a whole lot of pornography and inane crap about celebrities that you shouldn't care about. In the end it's not whether anyone hears you scream, it's whether or not you believe in what you're doing. And I believe that pretty much 100% of what I write is more enjoyable than a guy who draws penises on celebrities faces or people getting kicked in the nuts on youtube...though I could understand why it wouldn't be as entertaining as looking at nudie pictures of pretty people.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Sweat Cab for Windy
It's been three days since I meant to write about this last event in EvanKessler.com lore. I think the excessive heat has gotten to my brain, rendering it a pile of mush and making me good and lobotomized. However, I don't think lobotomy patients can even use the word lobotomy in a sentence, they just drool and sound out grunts...so perhaps that characterization was a little unjustified and premature seeing as no operation has yet to be scheduled.
In any case, it was this Tuesday night past when I ventured out to Billyburg for the Death Cab for Cutie concert at McCarren Pool Park. The entire city was steeped in a blizzard of thick, moist air thanks to temperatures hovering somewhere near the 100 degree mark. Persistent beads of sweat were a fact that complimented each mere movement. Dehydration was easy to come by and so I made my way out to the far reaches of Brooklyn from the slope via the G train with a bottle of water in hand. I didn't take my iPod with me since there was a report of a possible rain storm and the last thing that I wanted was for my musical lifeline to be drenched. For some reason though, my camera was a perfectly suitable electronic accessory.
As I rode the G train the conductor announced a service change skipping my stop at Nassau. That meant I would have to either get off at Greenpoint or Lorimer. They seemed equidistant from my destination so I haphazardly decided on Greenpoint. When I got out I knew where I was in relation to where I had previously been off of that stop, but no clue as to how to walk towards where I was originally supposed to have gotten off. I called Kishore as I stood on the corner of Manhattan and India. He said he would have to call me back to look on the map on his phone and call me back.
While Kishore was busy checking maps I called Kristin E because I remembered she lived right around the corner. She picked up and said she would meet me on the corner. She also told me she was going to the show and that we should meet up during the show. I couldn't really hang out though before since I was going to meet some folks before. Kristin came out toting a laundry bag and we had a brief conversation before she pointed me towards the direction of Matchless, the bar where I was to meet my ticket toting friend.
It was a ten to fifteen minute walk, which in that heat can be rather exhausting though I go to the gym enough to have something like that take it's toll I suppose, though I don't think ten or fifteen minutes of walking should really take it's toll on anyone unless you're really old or you're in the Sahara desert. To break up the walk-fest and satisfy my hunger I got a slice of pizza at Schmook's and finished my stroll over to Matchless where I was greeted by the Morwin (the proprietor of Schmook's) Kishore, Kishore's friend Jean, and his other friends Jesse and Jessica. We sat and had a drink before heading over to McCarren pool at 7:40.
When we made it into the venue we quickly got some drink tickets and a beer...finding a nice spot to the left of the sound board. When I looked over I saw my other friends Zak, Emma, and Robert hanging out, which was a pleasant surprise. I only spoke to them for a bit before they made the move to get closer to the stage.
Kristin and her friend Kevin soon joined me near my friends just as the show was set to start. I'm not sure what time the band went on. I think it was relatively close to 8pm, give or take. The band kicked off the show with "Bixby Canyon Bridge" and "The New Year". The sound was actually better than I had expected. I was never a big fan of the acoustics at outdoor shows in Central Park, and this being my first real McCarren Pool Park outing, I can't say there was much to be desired sonically.
Kristin's Reaction to My Photographic InclinationsThe show itself was enjoyable. My favorite performances were "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" and "The Sound of Settling" Death Cab has been a band that I've developed an appreciation for more recently. There was a brief period where I was immune to a lot of music for no other reason then I could fit anything else into my iPod and I didn't want to spend money on any CDs.
As far as the weather went, the heat never seemed to be too much of an issue. However, nearly an hour into the show the wind started picking up and you could tell that rain was imminent by seeing the trees sway side to side in the distance. Mere seconds after "The Sound of Settling" ended Ben Gibbard announced that the show was over and that they were told that it was unsafe to stay onstage due to impending weather conditions. A disappointed crowd began to file out. Some of the people I was with started talking about sticking around and waiting til everyone else bailed. I pleaded them to leave saying that if it was unsafe for the band to play it probably wasn't a good idea to be in the pool and we should probably go. Right on cue, after I finished my sentence, we witnessed a wind-blown beer tent go flying across the pool. I'm not sure if it injured anyone but I wouldn't be surprised if it did.
The rest of our group took that as our cue and we made our way out of the park and towards our friend Pat's apartment. We got to his building just as the rain was beginning to pour down. It took us several minutes to rouse Pat so that he was cognizant of our presence enough to open the door. His apartment was more or less a sweatbox, but at least it wasn't a rainy sweatbox. After about a half hour in Pat's presence it was back to Park Slope courtesy Kishore and his car, for which I am most thankful.
Morwin is Thankful For Pat Being HomeDeath Cab Setlist 6/10/08
bixby canyon bridge. the new year. why you'd want to live here. photobooth. crooked teeth. long division. grapevine fires. a movie script ending. company calls. company calls (epilogue). soul meets body. i will follow you into the dark. i will possess your heard. cath... . we laugh indoors. the sound of settling.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Stakes Is High
In all honesty, I had a hard time writing another post and I was considering never posting again after #600 because I was so happy with it. But alas, time rolls on and it's time for another weekend recap. This weekend the mercury on most of the thermometers in New York City shot well past the 90 degree mark, which can only mean one thing...It's summer! Gone are the days of dry air with the temperatures lingering somewhere between 70 and 79 degrees fahrenheit. This past weekend we went full swing into the sweating season. As a result, the activity meter registered on low for fear of breaking into excessive perspiration. That's not to say it was a dull weekend...or really a relaxed one for that matter. There just wasn't a whole lot of sprinting. Nonetheless a good deal of water was ingested.
With the dog days of summer on the horizon and an all day saturday activity planned, I decided Friday night should be taken easy. Rather than hit the Brooklyn bar scene I settled down with my roommates to take advantage of our large kitchen table and have what equated to a Union Street Family meal. Now, we could've gone all out and had a BBQ or prepared a fancy meal, but at the end of a busy work week most of us didn't have food preparation in our hearts. So with little hesitation Laura B and Matt G ordered up some Thai Food from Song. We were joined by former Union Street resident Andrew M and new temporary resident roommate, the delightful Pippa.
Prior to the arrival of our Thai Food it was decided that we would be making Pina Coladas utilizing a Coconcut and Pineapple that had been sitting on our table for quite a few days now. The most difficult part of this operation was opening said coconut. For some reason we all thought it would be easier than it was...not that I would know how difficult it was from attempting to open it. The two ladies on hand tried their best to crack the solid shell of tropical island treat while we men did our part by sitting around and watching. Pippa and Bassett employed the use of screwdrivers and hammers and plenty of elbow grease. Meanwhile Andrew M, Matt G and sat around marveling at the task at hand.
Eventually the case was cracked by Pippa who then drained the juice only to have Bassett absent mindedly spill it out before the actual construction of said Pina Coladas began. We all took part in the removal of all of the coconut meat or whatever you call it, which was also somewhat of an intensively laborious undertaking. At any given moment someone would pry so hard that a shred of coconut meat would go flying across the room narrowly missing someone else working at the other end of the table.
Once the coconut meat was spearated it went into the blender with pineappe and some rum. Unfortunately, the end product was a little too thick for our liking and the ground up bits of coconut shell taht were still attached made drinking our Pina Colada's someone unenjoyable due to the fact that they ended up being a fibrous melange of fruit bits in spite of their desired tropical island effect.
Aside from our mini-mixed drink misstep, dinner ended up being a wholly enjoyable affair complete with plenty of laughter, no tears, and plain ol' good thai food. We called it a night rather early after that as everyone seemed to want to be in bed early. We all had our reasons. Some of us were simply tired and others had to get up early the next day. I was in the latter group as earlier in the evening I had agreed to go with my friend Janet the next morning to the third leg of the Triple Crown at Belmont Racetrack...The Belmont Stakes.
Saturday morning I awoke at around 9am. The plan was to meet Janet at 10:45am at Penn Station as we had been told that it was desirable to get to the racetrack around noon if we wanted to get a good place to stand for the event. I ended up getting to the train station a little bit late thanks to the 2-3 train's bizarre weekend schedule. All of the effort expended though felt like it would be worth it if I could somehow manage to make it back from the racetrack a few dollars richer.
Janet and The Winning TicketWhen I finally got to the front of the line the ATM was not reading my card. This was a problem since I pretty much had no more cash. With what must have been an embarrassed look I got off the ATM line and pondered my monetary possibilities. I decided to call my credit card company and make sure I had a pin # set so I could take out money using said card. But first...the 2nd race. Well, wouldn't you know it, Sixthirteen was the winner. Helluva call if I do say so myself. I thought this would set a nice winning pace for the day and get me on a good luck streak.
After race 2 I went back to the lengthy ATM line where the 2 guys in back of me asked me jokingly to get out of the line because I was "blocking the view" of the two girls in front of me. I laughed it off and semi-befriended them to avoid any awkward obnoxiousness. I think they were a little drunk at this point, but I could see there point because the girls in front of me were very good looking. In fact, there were a lot of good looking girls at Belmont Park that day. A good majority of them looking their best for a day at the races and the potential of seeing a triple crown winner. Everywhere around you it was as if Sex and The City were premiering at the racetrack. Fancy outfits were abound. Anyway, I finally got to the ATM once again and after a little trouble was able to get some cash out, alleviating my monetary worries and allowing me to bet...and wouldn't you know it...that's just what I did on the third race.
Picking A Winner?
Perhaps NotApart from all of the idiocy and missed bets, the time for the historic event was drawing near. Janet and I made our way through the picnic area and found our way to a bench relatively close to the action that was being occupied by what seemed like a fraternity reunion, though they were nice enough to let us sit in their seats. They were too busy shotgunning beers and introduces themselves to other people by what college they went to. Janet and I sat with the hot sun beating heavily down on our bodies. The sweat began to trickle from our pores despite a lack of physical motion or activity. We sat in this spot for an hour...eagerly awaiting the prestigious third jewel in the triple crown.
Sweat
My Loser Horse
Longshot and Winner, Da' TaraLuckily, when we got on the train we got the last two available seats and sat next to a lovely couple. I think their names were Marco and Liz, though I don't think we shared our names. We chatted with them all the way to Jamaica station where we got off. I followed them to the Flatbush train platform and Janet left to get to the JMZ.
It was close to 9pm when I finally made it home to Brooklyn. I had a birthday party in Manhattan that evening at 10pm but I was completely exhausted from standing all day in the heat. Nonetheless, I decided I would venture out into Manhattan to enjoy a get together for my friend Lina's turning of the age clock. After a shower I changed my clothes and headed for the city. At some point as I walked towards the subway, I began to feel a tad bit ill. However, as I stepped on the F platform at 7th Ave and 9th street I made an agreement with myself that if the train didn't arrive in 5 minutes I would just go home. The train arrived right away and I took this as a sign that I should head into Manhattan. However, there were other signs that served as constant reminders not to go into the city...and those signs came from my aching tummy. I rode them out all the way to the 2nd avenue-houston stop hoping they'd go away but by the time I got there I just wasn't feeling up to walking all the way to a bar only to decide that I should go home. I hopped right back on the subway and called it a night.
Sunday morning came easy. I felt better and I had no alcohol in my system, which is always a nice way to wake up. I had plans for brunch with my mom who showed up at 1pm with groceries for my future cooking endeavors. We then went out to Sette and had a nice brunch. It wasn't necessarily remarkable or interesting. It was just a nice brunch and soon enough she was on her way.
I didn't really have any other plans for the evening, but after returning home from a lengthy walk around the neighborhood it seemed that my roommates were getting ready to have a BBQ. Despite not being particularly starving , I was game for the event. Before you knew it burgers were on the grill, corn was being boiled and dinner was served. We decided not to roast outside in the heat while eating and went back inside to watch several episodes of Strangers with Candy before bringing the weekend to it's merciful sweat-drenched conclusion.
Stay tuned for more tales from Sweatville, NY...as there are sure to be plenty more as the summer rolls on.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
#600: The Evan Kessler None on One Interview
It’s a grey, drizzly, and quite humid day in the Park Slope section of Brooklyn when I meet up with Evan Kessler for this interview. Our rendezvous is taking place at the Post Mark Café, a Fair Trade Church-run coffee shop as suggested by Mr. Kessler. I find it to be an odd location perhaps as odd as the subject himself. I was a little nervous, unsure if the veteran blogger and aspiring writer who boasts an impressive array of blogs and also writes for a few other ventures not associated with himself, would prove to be as witty in person as he was in his writing. I was afraid that I would have to trade barbs and keep up with a feverish back and forth . Much to my delight, when the subject of this interview arrived wearing a warm green woolen sweater and sporting an effortless smile framed by a scruffy yet fashionable and manly beard, I found him charming and almost thoughtful as his hazel-ish eyes peered across the table; though that pleasant demeanor soon gave way to a slightly combative yet disarmingly wry nature that persisted throughout our time together. I could never quite be sure if he liked me, yet I almost immediately understood his appeal as both a human being and a humorist…not to mention a dominant sexual being.
EvanKessler.com: So what’s up?
Evan Kessler: The sky.
EK.COM: Isn’t that sort of a douchebaggy thing to say?
EK: What isn’t a douchebaggy thing to say?
EK.COM: Touché.
EK: Now that’s a douchebaggy thing to say. You are a douchebag this interview is over.
"I ran out of the castle completely naked..."EK.COM: That’s it?
EK: Well you have seven seconds to redeem yourself.
EK.COM: I hear you went to Syracuse…I went there myself.
EK: Oh, a fellow Orangeman, now I have eternal respect for you. You have extremely polished interviewing skills and I shall answer any question you put in front of me…and frankly, you have hypnotic eyes.
"When the chips are down...you'd better hope they're potato chips..."EK: (Yawn)
EK.COM: Are you falling under my spell?
EK: No but this interviewing thing is getting boring.
EK.COM: Alright, I’ll cut to the chase…600 Posts…Any fond memories?
EK: Well, I could tell you a few but you probably couldn’t print them and most of them involve the unmentionables of Ava Gardner…but I don’t like to kiss and tell.
"On a scale from one to ten I'd give her a seven..."EK: Gentlemen wear ties. Do you see any gentlemen in here?
EK.COM: So then you don’t mind kissing and telling?
EK: Fuck off, next question!
EK.COM: At what point do you look at your site and think, “This stuff is really catching on?”
EK: Well, frankly I knew it was going to be a huge success the moment I first typed the words “Welcome To EvanKessler.com”…which had to be sometime in 1983, which is ironic since I was only four and a half at the time I wrote it, which meant I had a tremendous amount of foresight as to where technology would lead us. Some people say Al Gore invented the internet. I say Al Gore stole the Internet from Evan Kessler…but he’s doing a pretty decent job saving the environment even though the environment almost certainly cannot be saved.
EK.COM: Why do you say that?
EK: Because sometimes it’s the only word that will fit to link two parts of a sentence.
"I'm saying if it's French, we probably already own it..."EK: Well, if by "the world", you mean we’re specifically talking about the problems of the American Nation-State, I’d have to say our two biggest problems are Sickle Cell Anemia and single mothers. Did you know by 2010 100% of Americans will be diagnosed with Sickle Cell Anemia…though about 76% of those diagnoses will be false, so that highlights an entirely different problem with the healthcare system...and as far as Single Mothers go, I think Dan Quayle said it best when he said, “Murphy Brown needs a man..stat!” That man was a visionary. I still have a hard time understanding how he didn’t eventually end up president. He was always so prescient when stating the issues facing our great land.
EK.COM: You've got a lot of blogs, what's your favorite project you've come up with in the last few years?
EK: Well, In the past year I started a program to prevent school children from being eaten by sharks. It's called Stay In School and Out of Shark's Mouths or SISOSM...it's a good acronym. It really flows. I don't put the little words in my acronyms. Too much letter clutter.
"It didn't make sense to listen to a Shania Twain album any longer..."EK.COM: You seem like a highly intelligent being. Is there any moment you've doubted your ability to create engaging content?
EK: First of all, thank you for the compliment. You can remove your hands from the inside of my pant leg now. I'd say more nice things about you but I don't go that far on the first date, sweetie. As for your question, I think we all have moments where we're forced into the murkiest depths of humanity where the only consolation prize is a cold bowl of oatmeal and a moldy ice cream cone filled with sour cream and frozen urine that everyone says is lemonade. However it's those things that make us stronger and able to taste the sweetness of the tears of victory as well as the tears that result from the agony of our most hated enemies. So, I guess you could say, yes I have doubted myself at times. Though those moments are few and far between and more on a weekly basis than a daily one.
EK.COM: So who inspires you to create and in turn inspire others?
EK: Well, I don't really pay attention to other people but I do like the celebrity sightings section at Gawker. Reading that Sienna Miller ate dinner at a restaurant twenty minutes from where I live inspires me to realize that there are places where I could be eating dinner even closer than that.
EK.COM: So no single person inspires you?
EK: Inspiration is the tool of the weak-minded who have never had an original idea in their lives.
"It was probably the darkest day in American History class..."EK.COM: And you think interviewing yourself for your own website is an original idea?
EK: No comment. Maybe?
EK.COM: Alright, so after over four years and 600 posts do you have any hopes and dreams for the future? Perhaps, 600 more posts?
EK: Are you kidding? If I have to do 600 more posts on this crappy site before striking it rich and becoming a world famous celebrity who gets showered with praise and pussy around every corner, then I'm checking out. I better be living on my own Island by this time in 2012, having Hugh Hefner personally ship playmates in to cater to my every fantastical whim.
EK.COM: Well, I certainly wish your champagne wishes and caviar dreams come true. Best of Luck.
EK: I hate fish eggs...get the hell out of here!
EK.COM: Thanks for your time. This has been a delight.
EK: The pleasure's all on this side of the table.
FIN
p.s...Thanks for sticking around so long...now buy some shirts.
Sincerely,
Evan Kessler
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Prime Time Skinemax
Recently, I've been suffering from Jeff Conaway withdrawal. It seems that the last few weeks the former T-Bird has been curiously absent from the VH1 airwaves thanks to the fact that Celebrity Rehab has been off the air for a couple of weeks and in my regular perusings of the movie channels I haven't managed to stumble over any opportune airings of Grease. Actually, my yearning for Conaway is neither automatic, systematic, or hydromatic. It is however cinematic.
All of the buzz the ex-Kenickie has been getting from his addictive addiction battling VH1 appearances has left me yearning for one of my favorite JC films...a little known film that just so happens to be a pantheon Skinemax selection. Now I know that Cinemax currently has various incarnations and they probably air more softcore porn than you could shake a stick at. However, I don't have Cinemax as part of my cable plan and while HBO Zone admirably tries to carry the latenight softcore torch with 2am showings of a variety of films about attractive female detectives who get caught in a web of deception and murder at a prostitution ring or Alabama Jones and The Busty Crusade, I long for a simpler time where recognizable actors and actresses both past and before their prime engaged in the occasional sex farce aimed at late night audiences.
In my mind the Holy Grail of such flicks was Almost Pregnant, an enjoyable romp in the sack starring the likes of Jeff Conaway, Tanya Roberts, and Joan Severance. It was a gift to adolescent male teens and adults alike to be skimming the channels late night and happen across this flick which featured a delightfully irreverent plot involving an impotent husband, a wife swap scheme, and a woman's need to reproduce. Did I mention there was nudity and the women involved were more or less in their heyday of being drop dead gorgeous? That certainly helped but as ludicrous and not necessarily well-acted it was...the movie was fun and not cheesy in that smooth jazz sex scene way. It also featured a cameo from Dom Deluise as the doctor at the fertility clinic which gave the movie even more bona fide star power.
Oh How That Joan Severance Set My Heart Aflutter
