Posting is something I can't quite do at the moment. Though, I've finished the megapost. That's all I've got, folks. I need to rest up from forcing myself to do that. Meanwhile, I'm busy flitting around town. Everyone's making fun of me because I'm really all gassed with liking a boy. I'm usually the rarely mention and hide until I can't avoid it type, but I want to bring him around everyone I know and withstand the inevitable rolled eyes/chuckles because I'm that into. Now watch everything come tumbling around me like a house of cards any second and me to set off on another multiyear "relationship...bah humbug!" jaunt. Eh whatever. We'll see.
On deck for download:
Chateau Flight, Ongaku
Diverse, Ain't Right
Dry & Heavy, Love Explosion
Battles, Dance
Man Man, Gold Teeth
Good weekend all around. Except for the boat concert, I didn't especially do much of anything -- besides clean my house and entertain. Ever notice all I talk about is cleaning? Well, if you lived on auto-pilot like we do for most of the week, you notice on the weekends that you have to force a path out of the clutter.
Dear friend P. Diddy came down from New Haven to spend time with me and we had fun catching up. I dragged him to Soda like I take everyone (any excuse to go there is really A-OK with me) and we spotted the one person in the neighborhood I've got semi-ill will towards. Still a good time with cider/beer and the famous cheeseburger before meeting Faiks for a night of barhopping and shisha to cap off the night. We caught the 4 train pulling in the station and made it from Bleecker to Grand Army in 20 mins! That's really unheard of.
Like a good friend who knows me well, he met up with someone else for brunch and let me sleep. Circa 1pm though, I was up and got Ant up to for the bake sale. I got this sickeningly good apricot pound cake and he got the orange scone. We kicked it with the neighbors, including the hilarious Cupcake. In the "NYC must really only have about 300 people sometimes" files, she knows some people I know (vaguely) from Wes that are longtime friend A's other friends. She passed on a sighting of him singing "You Sexy Thing" at karaoke, which is so improbable that it made my brain hurt. I emailed him all "WTF?" and his reply subject line was: "Now I know how David Cross and Owen Wilson feel." My boy's making the blog gossip rounds! From there, brunch and hanging out again with P. Diddy and G before resting up for the boat show.
I trotted out to West Bumblefuck, Manhattan, a.k.a. the waterfront on the West Side, to meet up with The Director. The security line for the boat ride was a little excessive (patdowns, bag searches). The boat itself was decked out in a cross between a booze cruise and a junior prom. It seemed like floors of an NYU dorm had sponsored a trip or something because the kids were out in full force. The bars were committing highway (seaway?) robbery by charging $8 for well drinks. We just chilled and caught up. I like it when the conversations can be easy and actually an exchange. When I'm unsure, I tend to hold back and when I'm nervous, I babble, so it's comforting when I can talk to someone I like normally as I would anyone else I know. He's screening his last short, just finished writing a new one, and maybe about to work on another movie. I just find it interesting when talking to someone that's focused on what they do. Because I don't know what the fuck I could say that my direction/passion is now. Am I involved in music? A writer? In marketing/advertising? An event planner? Your guess is as good as mine. I'm a dabbler with too many unfinished things around me. I need a career coach.
The Director joked later that it was a no lyrics night. Lineup was Dub Trio, Nisennenmondai, Tyondai Braxton solo, and Prefuse 73 with DJ Nobody and that mystery (well, to me) drummer guy who was also on the last tour. I saw other Battles members walking around, as well as a chick with a Battles bag, and I wanted to run over and ask where I could get the damned "I Have Battles In My Life" bag I was so obsessed with at the other show. But, I didn't. I'm coldly serious about my new "Oh...helllll no" stance on tall assholes who like to prop themselves in front of shorties like me. At least 2 guys got the poke in the back and the nasty look at the show. And you know they moved. My screw face is not to be fucked with. Seriously, what's up with that? You can stand anywhere you want and see. Why do you have be muscling in right smack in front of somebody as if your view is obstructed. It's hard enough to be short and craning at weird angles to catch glimpses as is. I kept being distracted by two girls at the show who decided that the middle of the crowd was the perfect spot for their pseudo-performance art interpretive dancing. You know what? Cut that shit out. Enough of us just ignored them, so they just slinked away after a while. Sorry, attention whores! Get your own damned show because no one paid $30 to see you!
The royal we likes Dub Trio more and more each time we see them. I'd say they singlehandedly jumpstarted the current dub obsession, but in actuality, it's been gradual after spending a good portion of the year at The DJ's party. It wasn't until I saw them a few months back that I became totally obsessed though. Their general sound reminds me of my sentimental faves of Alex and the boys and dammit, they just seem cool. They're understated yet brilliant. Next up with Nisennenmondai, a noise trio. It took them forever to set up considering the set was like 10 minutes and I got really annoyed (for them) that they're setup was further impeded by guys a-fluttering around "helping." They're musicians! They can set up their own shit! The drummer was a monster. She was totally possessed beating the crap out of her kit. It was funny when they stopped because I was thinking they were just introducing another song. Nope finished.
In the intermission, we stood outside on the deck to watch the Statue of Liberty pass. The boat went so close and all of us standing out there were really awed. I haven't been that close since my trip there in 1989 or thereabouts and then all of sudden, there she was, way bigger than life. We strolled back in midway through the Tyondai set. And I can say it's pretty much everything I've ever heard about it: dude on the floor with his pedals and such. Sorta interesting, sorta not. The main event was Prefuse, DJ Nobody, and mysterious henchman/drummer dude. I was amused watching Scott Herren run around sticks in hand looking generally annoyed with the sound people until whatever was up was fixed. I had an obsessive's version of an existential crisis wondering why I felt like I was hearing the same song twice. Oh, it was a different song! But "Perverted Undertone" and "One Word Extinguisher" sound the same to me live. I squealed to The Director hearing "Suite For The Way Things Change": "that was totally my fave song forever!" Yeah, dude, forever! I found myself momentarily annoyed by this one dude who had to park himself right in the front of the crowd. Quick and easy way to tell music hack, erm, critic at a concert: they're the asshole blocking up your way and determined to be stone-faced and statue-like no matter how much fun everyone around them is having. This prick finally gave in two songs from the end, but he was just being a pest before then.
We docked before the last song was over and had a good 20 more minutes of music before it was all over. The two of us were bound to this 9th Avenue bar near Port Authority that looked like a hardcore sports bar, but was filled with the most random cross-section of drunkards I've probably ever seen. $3 well drinks on a Sunday night...hell fucking yes. My head wasn't too happy about it the next morning, but hey, what can you do? As strange as it sounds, The Director is someone I have too much fun with. We've known each other going on a year and a half and it's very comfortable. It's in some strange space between friends and not-so-platonic, but generally freeze-framed. I dunno. Weird how those things go. It was so great to connect that I was seriously wavering on the new boy for days, clutching at straws to stop my growing interest in its tracks. I'm a sick puppy, man. Which explains why it's been almost 3 years since I've been in a unit. I really dunno where my head is half the time. I'm resolving to pretty much wait and see on all fronts.
Yeah...whatever I said about newly having my free time back was a fucking lie. I've gotten the crap slammed out of me at work this week. I'm so glad that the weekend is finally here. I couldn't take another day of crazy working. The plan (unless I oversleep like I have twice this week) is to be to work at 8:30ish and hopefully be out by 6:30/7. Yes, this week is kinda sucks to be me.
Not to imply it hasn't been fun. I made time to apparently take up take up a mid-week residency at Soda. Tuesday night, I went to meet up with Mr. Now (for lack of a better pseudonym) I guess and while I was waiting, one of the neighbors strolled up to me. I was neutral and we chatted for a min and he offered that I should knock if I needed anything in a way that made my skin crawl. Yeah...hold your breath for that, son. He slinked off and soon after the boy came along and I smiled and everything was good. Back to the same bat station the next night for the weekly happy hour episode #1. I've got some pretty cool neighbors and we had a great time. With the bonus of spawning a hilarious thread on the board. You know I must've been worn out to say:
Hipsters are like chihuahuas, I'm Lucky the Ghetto Poodle. Both are little bitches, but I'm more entertaining.Bill, Faiks, The Director, and like everybody says I am a hipster, but we all know I'm not, right? Right?!?!
In the meantime, read up at Four Four (categories on Tyra Banks, ANTM, and other crackhead-filled shows plus music!) and Angry Black Bitch. I should even finally getting around to posting the Prefuse boat show wrapup...like Sundayish. Hopefully.
The greatest thing today is my Zen on random play. It's pretty much the only nod I have in the regular to my KISS-FM listening roots. It's like my player has a mind of its own that says, "fuck the Dabrye and Man Man for one day, please. We're playing Silk, Avant, and Babyface all day because we can!" Yes, my mp3 player is jam-packed with Quiet Storm booty-smacking jams. And what?
I was complaining to Bill that I got this email from some freaking random, all conversational-like providing me with links to go hear their music. No thanks, Mr. Random. I don't actually give a crap about your music because I don't plan on posting it. Do I look like a music blogger to you? This blog is me, me, me with a dash of my interactions with other people and things delighting/pissing me off. (Notice the theme?) How the hell do they get my email address anyways? Gah.
We're working a big old post about our fun weekend. Go see Dave in the meantime with an amusing random post about having a penguin mini-me. Tick, tick, tick goes someone's clock. We'd be beginning to suspect that Farmer is secretly trafficking those wacky lollipops in the Prospect Heights area if only he wasn't in Chicago at the moment. Who knows what he could've gotten up to before going though.
The "I'm updating craaaaazy!" edition.
If I've neglected to do so on the blog already, a special congrats are going out to Japan to previous 14A occupants, Josh and Miyuki for their crazy adorable baby! Awww...pictures! I need to stop looking before I kickstart my clock by accident or something.
Bill thinks he's hot shit because he started a music blog. Whatever, man. But, it's a good one. Imagine: someone putting music up that everyone else hasn't yet! It's a crazy concept!
Some examples why I have the best neighborhood/nabe blog: we're having a weekly happy hour (I choose ignore the games component. I like to play the "how much drinks before I start weaving?" game. Fun for a whole group!) and getting hats, but most importantly, a bake sale to raise money for Hurricane Katrina victims and the Houston Food Bank. It's taking place this Sunday from noon until it's all scarfed at PS 9 (St. Marks between Vanderbilt and Underhill). I plan to stroll over -- cracked out/hungover or not -- and get a big old piece of cake or 4. Anyone in the area should drop by also.
Oh. I almost forgot to mention. I'm moving to Chicago to become a full-time stalker.
The busy season at work seems to have subsided, so I can finally rejoin the land of the computer-tethered timewasters again. Well, more than the couple of lines here and there like the past month and change at least. I can't tell you what I don't have: much money. Bills, bills, bills are killing me and I'm trying to keep my eyes on a New Year's trip prize, so the LA and Toronto trips (and things I've wanted for too long like a digicam) are ixnayed for 2005. Lease renewal time (is that crazy or what? time flies!) is also coming around the bend.
On the bright side, Farmer has finally returned from exile in England for a brief stopover, Alex is jumping back for a min from Portugal soon, and Fizzie is making a long-awaited visit to NYC in 2 weeks. Yay! I've started back with the gym and my legs have been throbbing ever since. But it's okay. I know you've got to go through a little pain to get thighs like steel. I've got about a half year's worth of sluggishness to reverse. And I seem to have discovered random guys my age in this town. I feel like Santa Claus in that M&M commercial: "they do exist!" And me proving myself a lucky ass bastard once again won tickets to the Prefuse/Dub Trio booze cruise (well, they're not identifying it as such...but it will be. Trust.) on Sunday evening. I think The Director is coming with, but I'm pretty much undecided.
When I haven't been at work actually working, I've been out and about at all hours of the night. I've been drinking a lot of spirits to keep me going and I think Ant is starting to eye me as if he is wondering if it's intervention time. I'm okay! Tuesday, I got my senses assaulted in Park Slope at an open mic night that a new friend and I stumbled upon in horror. I think a good 90% of my experiences involve making a wrong turn somewhere and then wondering why I'm there instead of cuddling with my cat where I belong. We escaped to one of the only places I know by name in the entire neighborhood (with a special note in the archives as where I first met The DJ) where we discussed New Orleans rebuilding in the empty joint with the lonely bartender, his accent getting thicker when J identified himself as from Texas. I won $10 when my rap knowledge got challenged. Shit, I mean I know I don't listen to the radio or much hip hop nowadays, but I sure as fuck know that Trina and Trick Daddy are from Miami. Please. You know I gloated. Too much to drink and too little sleep persuaded me to call out sick and I bummed around the house eating takeout and watching ATWT all day.
I emerged way after sundown to get denied at the Man Man show for being a non-ticket buying procrastinator. Still, I hung out, got partially rained on, and got to say my hellos to Kate Ace Fu and Mr. Schmancy Panelist Anthony before trotting home like a good girl. I ran into the same motivation difficulty Thursday night before talking myself into trotting across Brooklyn. I caught Hot Chip and their technical difficulties, but I wasn't feeling the "quirky" especially with a crowd filled with drunken assholes making me annoyed. This one dude plopped himself directly, I mean 3 inches, in front of me. I poked the shit out of him belligerentely with my phone all "hello! I. Can't. See!" And he probably saw the dangerous gleam in my eye and how I was clutching my bottle neck, so you bet your ass he moved.
Not soon after, I left to check out a friend's party only to get stopped at the door and accused of having a fake ID. I finally replaced the learner's permit (yeah, that's right. I'm a non-driving ass New Yorker!) I lost back in December a few weeks ago and it was fresh out the mail and my first use. The day I signed my forms and paid the fee, I had eyed that poster at the DMV wondering what dumbasses thought of such a shit design. And then there I was protesting: "I'm 24! I don't need a fake ID!" He looked at me really skeptically and I remembered what else would someone say but something like that! Then a chick came up with an actual fake and instead decided to pitch a bitchfit. Yeah that's a good way to bypass the bouncer, dick, piss him off. Kids nowadays. Dude finally stopped being on my case and let me pass because I'd been there before. Whatever.
The most exciting version of a good Friday night this week to me is in bed with my cat where I belong. And that's where I'll be.
Been off alternating between busy and lazy while getting prickly and quo tedon the internets. New stuff TK for real.
Meanwhile, September's music heavy rotation includes:
Brandy - The Ritual (Chateau Flight Remix)
Dry & Heavy - Dawn Is Breaking
Asian Dub Foundation - P.K.N.B. (Dry And Heavy Connection Dub)
Why yes, I am only listening to Chateau Flight (and friends) and dub right now. With 50 Cent and EPMD popping up on the playlist too. But CMJ starts this week and I'm all set to go to the Ace Fu Showcase Wednesday and DFA Showcase Thursday. I haven't really given the schedule a good look, but something else is sure to pop up. I'm going a little show crazy in the next couple of months, currently headed to Jamiroquai, Jamie Lidell/Four Tet, and Nine Inch Nails. Seriously.
Have I mentioned yet that I love this time of year? It just started and I've been going out and dancing and *gasp* actually having a good time already. And I have more things to do all lined up and stuff. Craziness. The fun music thing is where I shall focus the September pasttime attentions. Everything else is just a little too...much right now.
I'll return to the shallow side of life soon. I can't help but note though that this summer has been like high season for the (not-so) closet racist/classists assholes who populate too many corners of where many of us have to live and interact everyday. But then again, it's only racists when white robes and hoods and crosses are involved and we're all middle class in America, so class biased against who? They make me fucking ill. And in general, I'm feeling a little aggro.
I've been having a war of wills with some dudes on the block. If you know me, you know that I don't take any shit. You want to argue? Let's go. If you're going to fuck with me, I'm not going to roll over and play dead. I am very well aware of my status as gentrifyier. I pay too much to live on a 4th floor walkup in terns of my neighbors, but comparitively to what they're trying to get around here almost a year later, we're not getting shafted that badly in terms of the NYC housing market. But, I also know that I blend in pretty well being brown (Ant, about halfway. There's a shortage of non-commercial enterprise affiliated Asian men in our neighborhood). The fact I'm young, black, and (assumed to be) "rich" yet moved in here is like a novelty to some of the neighbors. I get on pretty well with the old guy next door and the family below a.k.a. the ones I see the most but, the dudes outside (and some of the ones inside) are a different story.
I'll always be a sociologist at heart, so I can easily break down the problem. I'm young, black, (appearingly) single, "new" to the block, passing through quickly and quietly for the most part, not especially engaged what's happening on the block. They're young, black also, probably grew up here, spending all their time hanging on the block --the gate between my building and the one next door in particular -- in groups. They know everyone around but me and I'm not especially open because I spend upwards of 10 hours at work/in transit and when I'm around, I've got tunnel vision trained on dinner/quality time at home/bed.
It may be a neighborhood thing. On my block in East New York, I knew everyone and my family had two houses next door to each other. I didn't really think of hanging out on the stoop when I could just go inside. No one was really big on hanging out in the front there. Maybe to play rope or run around or whatever, but not just to sit. To say my apartment has been an oven this summer is the understatement of the year. I can't blame anyone for wanting to escape and stand outside. When you're standing around with people you know, it's a social thing. Everyone's been hanging out for hours when I stumble along, sweaty and tired at 7 or whenever, so they're all relaxed and shit while I'm focused and on edge. And it doesn't make it easier when I'm trying to do a Point A to Point B and they're staring me down. And I'm not especially open to anyone looking me up and down like a steak on a plate either. We're at an impasse.
The other week, I was headed from laundry and one of the dudes who is always hanging out was standing there alone. He said hello and I replied neutrally.
"Oh, I thought you didn't speak," he said, kinda snidely.
Defense mechanism popped up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, you never say anything when we're hanging the block."
"I'm not going to say anything when I'm all distracted and tired."
I went inside and that was that. A few days later, I'm late as shit for work and popping out to run to the train and hope I can still make it in decent time. Some guys are standing in the typical spot at 9am and I'm not paying attention and just hauling. I hear a voice behind me say, "I see how you are."
And I was thinking about it the rest of the day. It bothers me that there's some sort of antagonistic relationship. Part of me is like "We're more alike than we're different. Why's there got to be some resentful bullshit when you don't even know me?" And then I think "fuck 'em. They're not keepers of the fucking block. They can hang out and chill all day because they don't have jobs and they're living with their mothers. Fuck that giving me shit because I'm not peppy enough. My apartment doesn't pay for itself and I've gotta do what I gotta do and fuck what they think." There's nothing that I can especially do about it. Am I supposed to bake them cookies? Fuck that. This one will probably be a stalemate unless some random day the bridge is crossed. We'll see.
Kanye on the NBC Concert for Hurricane Katrina Relief:
"I hate the way they portray us in the media.(Video here and post on Hip Hop Music)"And you know that it’s been 5 days because most of the people are black and even for me to complain … I would be a hypocrite because I would turn away from the TV because it’s too hard to watch. I’ve even been shopping before giving a donation and so right now I’m calling my business manager what is the biggest amount I can give.
"And just to imagine if I was down there, those are my people down there. So anybody out there who wants to help with the set up, the way that America is set up to help … The poor, the black people, the less well off as slow as possible. I mean, Red Cross is doing everything they can.
"We already realize a lot of the people that could help are at war now fighting another way and they’ve given them permission to go down and shoot us."
Someone should make a gif of Mike Myers's panicked expression. "You're ruining my career just by having me associated with you right now! I'm Canadian, I'm neutral!"
It's no secret that I'm not the biggest Kanye fan, but lately, I've got a lot of new found respect for the guy. The average celebrity as rich as he is tends to loathe coming out with a position about anything because their eyes are so firmly entrenched on making the most money possibilty. They are blank slates in order not to alienate anyone. Even their participation in most benefit shows is with the knowledge that they have the potential to increase sales heavily. So, when a best-selling artist recently on the cover of Time comes into the homes of America and actually speaks his mind, you know he's got balls of steel. Kanye West may have potentially risked career suicide, but he's a better man than Mike Myers who was gaping like a fool.
Even the criticism he's facing is typical: "he was overly emotional and inarticulate" "how dare he come to an event with an agenda? he's hurting relief efforts!" "why do they always have to make it into a black and white thing?" "it's not even George Bush's fault...it's the other government bureaucrats' fault!" "there's more white people than black people affected, you know." "how can he not care about black people? look at his cabinet lately?"
Talk about not seeing the forest for the trees. New Orleans as we knew it doesn't exist anymore. Some of the poorest areas and those inhabitants in the city were the most devestated. The Red Cross is not being allowed to enter. Dead bodies are floating in the streets. People were holed up for days in the fucking Superdome, sick, dying, and hungry. It took days for the federal goverment to show any kind of significant response. If your first instinct on someone famous showing the anger and fruatration that millions around the world are feeling is to play the blame game and undercut his words with charges of him being calculated and illiterate, then not only do you need to check yourself and wonder when you stopped being a human being, but fucking pray that you never have to experience what the people in New Orleans and the Gulf states are feeling right now. Because you are a heartless idiot who probably thinks of all of this as an inconvenience putting a pallor over your Labor Day celebrations and fucking shame on you. George Bush doesn't care about black people or poor people or anyone who didn't vote for him or anyone that's not on his side. Neither do many politicians who went down to New Orleans for photo ops and lip service. Good for Kanye and Ray Nagin and the Congressional Black Caucus and so many others for not being afraid to call it that. If a natural disaster had affected Houston or Atlanta or Washington DC or New York, there would have been aid before the papers went to press. Ladies and gentlemen, that's our government and they are a disgrace. For an entity supposedly the representatives of the people, our government has been moving in slow motion to help and revealing that they think of themselves as bound only to parts of the population. Even if we didn't vote them in, they still represent us and it's a travesty.