The week at work went all right. As you may recall, I was by myself for the first time, and I was pretty nervous about being exposed as a buffoon. But now it's over. Sort of. I left some work Friday night, because I couldn't bear to be there another minute.
So picking up on Thursday, the Wilco show was excellent. It's always fun to watch a band that loves to play. And they played for about two hours as well. Besides an aching back and knees and spilled beer all over my jacket, the evening was aces.
After a terribly aggravating day of work on Friday, I accompanied James up to the New School, where a film by his girlfriend Rosario was being screened. It had been selected from a previous screening, and was part of the "best of" short film festival. James did the voice-over for the film. His voice was almost unrecognizable. Mostly because he had a sense of urgency and emotion in his voice that's usually not there. I had plans with Rodzilla, so we met her and her friend Katey at the New School. Some of the films were pretty good, some were too long, and some were just terrible. It was almost embarrassing. Anyway, after the screenings and awards- every film was presented with a prize, though Rosario was a double winner- there was a reception of wine and cheese. I helped myself to copious amounts of both. By the time I left, I was kind of drunk. The only food I'd eaten was about a half pound of cheese. So I left James and his crew and took the subway back to Brooklyn. For some reason on the ride home I got really happy and excited and couldn't wait to get off the train and sprint home. The wine of course had a large part in this, but it's not like I become an ecstatic fool every time I get drunk. I was also listening to cd a got in the mail the other day by Jeff Mangum, the singer Neutral Milk Hotel. And that's been doing good things for me. So I got home and belted out some songs on the guitar for a while, which is exactly what I had been wanting to do the whole train ride home. Then I walked down to Great Lakes to meet Jen, Jed, and Matt. From that point, I descended deeper into inebriation. I would have to say the climax of the evening came around 1 am. I was taking a break from being drunk and loud, and looked out the window. What I saw was pretty shocking. It was a dark rider on a pale horse. I'm not kidding. A guy in a black coat, riding a whitish-grey horse down 5th ave at 1 in the morning. The others say it was a black guy, but I'm not sure. But the rider was definitely wearing black, which was good enough for me. And this seemed like a bad thing. I was being overly dramatic, i knew, but I was still surprised to see this. I knew I'd heard a quote about this somewhere, but none of my church-going friends could remember it. I've been trying to remember the quote all weekend. And I just found it. It's this:
"And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him." It's from Revelation 6:8. Anyway, thinking about it now is kind of creeping me out. So we'll move on.
The next morning I heard all kinds of "You were really drunk last night" talk. I don't think i did anything particularly stupid. I was just being loud and easily offended. I remember thinking about how glad I was to be living in New York. I felt kind of young and just pleased to be where I was. Needless to say, I woke up with a four-alarm headache the next morning, and dehydrated beyond belief. So after getting up, and walked around 7th avenue for a while. Most saturdays now I go down to the flea market on 7th ave and look for records to buy. This week's buys were a record by Django Reinhardt and the Quintet of the Hot Club of France, which was all scratched and I'm sure won't play but seemed worth the dollar, and Billy Joel's "The Stranger." There were quite a few Billy Joel records, and it was a toss-up between The Stranger and Turnstiles. Billy Joel was one of the earlier musical interests of my life, largely due to Garrick. And the fact that I played piano and we had a lot of Billy Joel books. Oddly, Billy Joel also played a large part in the early stages of my friendship with Rodzilla. Anyway, the plan for the day was an outing in Williamsburg, in celebration of James' 26th birthday. His birthday's on the 29th, actually. Anyway, still feeling like poop, Matt, Jed, and I met Jen in Manhattan, then rode the L into Williamsburg. James sorts of lives with Rosario in a little house off the Graham ave. stop. This guy Brian also lives there now. He runs the record company that puts out James's records, and is also playing in James' band now. A fairly nice fellow. The party was BYOF (food), so we stopped by C-Town and Jen and I picked up some disgustingly tasty looking sausages and some beer. When we got to the house, James' friends from Long Island were already there. These were: Dierdre, Ryan, and Kelly. The backyard was a fairly ghetto sight, with a few broke down cars around, and a few car seats used as chairs. The grill was place precariously on a bucket and cinder block, but I didn't even notice this until much later in the evening. It was much colder than when we left, and pretty soon, everyone was wearing some of James' and/or Rosario's clothing for extra warmth. It began to seem pretty absurd to be having a barbecue party in 40 degree weather. As soon as the sun went down it got much colder. So we decided we should build a little campfire. Seemed like the right thing to do. So we found a shovel and dug a hole in the ground. Then filled it up with some charcoal, a little light fluid to get it going, and some wood we found scattered about. While this was going on, we were also being assaulted by the neighborhood kids. They were playing stick ball or something out on the street, and would periodically throw garbage or pieces of old furniture over the fence and onto the driveway. There was a dumpster on the street filled with old wood, so they had plenty of ammunition. At one point, a few of their rubber balls came over, and Matt danced around and taunted them while carrying the balls. So he pitched them to me and I tried to hit them back with a little plastic bat. The balls were too heavy for the hollow bat, and I nearly broke a few windows because I kept swinging too early, which caused the balls to fly to the extreme right, where the house was. A seven-year-old girl taunted me the whole time, screaming "You can't hit for nuthing'! I can hit better'n that!" Jerk. So I took a break and had something to eat. As the kids continued to assault us, we became more and more interested. Of course, we should have just ignored them and they'd have gone away. But we couldn't resist. So I think Rosario went over to take some pictures, being the artistic type she is. And that seemed like a good idea to me. So I went over as well. When I took my first picture, one of the kids shrieked "The Chinese man took my picture!" I also got a little movie as the kids went completely berserk and started shaking the fence. Around that time, Matt had just cut his finger, and decided to rub the blood on his face and dance around like a wild Injun, and came over and taunted the kids. Then we heard a middle aged voice scream "What do you think you're doing?! Get away from there!" So there went our fun.
Between the among of lighter fluid that flavored the already unhealthy food and the amount of smoke I inhaled from the smoldering fire- caused by burning paradise tree wood that was still alive and moist- I did some terribly things to my body. Plus, we burned a lot of the old furniture that the kids threw over the fence. Jed voiced some concern over the table legs, since they were varnished and would probably stink as they burned. But I was too stuffed up at that point to notice. But my throat still hurts. The rest of the evening was spent stoking the fire, both in the pit and on the grill, and eating and playing music. Matt left rather early, and Rodzilla showed up shortly after he left. James sang a wide variety of tunes in the guitar. There was also a violin, but that was mostly a bad idea. Few instruments sound as bad when poorly played as the violin. I played it for ten years, and I'm awful. I played the guitar for a little, but it was mostly James and Rosario. They made a nice little musical couple. They actually make quite a nice couple, period. There was one moment in particular that really did it for me. James was singing this silly little song, and when it came to the part where the vocals were really high, he kind of laughed and said "I don't know if I should do this." And she said "I'll help," and sang the high part. That was kind of a beautiful little moment. The whole evening was kind of like that. It wasn't a very New York kind of evening, sitting around in a back yard, a fire blazing, and just a group of people sitting around singing. James' music career is making some headway, and I kept thinking that the party seemed like the kind of party musicians have. It reminded me of being at Steve West's (the drummer of Pavement) house back in Virginia. So despite some rather deplorable circumstances, it was pretty fun.
Around midnight it started to rain, and we cleaned up the party. After that, James, Rosario, Rodzilla, Kelly, and I headed out to check out a new bar down the street. It was too crowded, so we left. But on our way out, I see this girl walking in. And it's Betsy, the Great Lakes regular who I can't go one week without seeing. Even when I go to some other Park Slope bar, I inevitably run into her our her friend Paula. So it was quite a shock to see her at some random bar in Williamsburg. So I felt obligated to accost her and point this out. My first words, before hello or anything, were "Now I'm really creeped out." And she started getting all apologetic. "I'm just here cause one of my friends wanted to come!" So we laughed about this for a few seconds, then I said by. She said she'd see me later, and I said "I'm sure you will."
So we walked in the rain a few blocks to Pete's Candy Store, a bar and music space in Williamsburg. It's actually where James and Rosario met, after James played a show there. We got some drinks and, after the bands were through for the night, sat in the back room. After a while we discovered that the mics were still on, so Kelly and James started singing. Rosario and I kept yelling out songs for them to sing that featured male and female vocals. "The song from Dirty Dancing!" and such and such. Other songs included the Aaron Neville-Linda Ronstadt duet "I Don't Know Much (But I Know I Love You)," and Jefferson Airplane's "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now." Come to think of it, this would have been the perfect time for me to purge my little obsession with Roxette's "The Look," that I've had for the past month. But I didn't think of it then. In the middle of "Stand By Me," these foreign gentleman jumped on the stage. He grabbed a mic and started ranting in Italian. Rodzilla went in closer to get a picture, and shortly after he fell off the stage, almost on top of her. Then he and his friend came over, and explained that he didn't speak a lick of English. He was from the Czech Republic. He spoke Czech and Italian and Spanish and French and German, supposedly, but not English. His friend spoke a little. Anyway, I wasn't as amused as the others seemed to be. James was amused until the guy said something about Jews, and a falling over motion with his arm, and then pretended to fire a machine gun. At which point, a visibly disturbed James said "Ok, you have to leave now." But his friend explained that in Europe, it's ok to say these sorts of things. He understood that in America you can't talk like that, but in Europe people talk like that all the time. Apparently the German photo editor at Spin says the same thing, according to Caryn. Cayrn just thinks it's wrong for someone with a German accent to talk like that. Anyway, so then this guy says he's going to do that thing where you hold your leg and jump through it. I'm like, no fucking way. He's really going to hurt himself. So he gets back up toward the front of the room, takes off his shoes, and hikes up his pants, and gets ready. The way he had his ankle in his stomach, it was pretty clear to everyone that there was no way in hell he was going to make it. I still don't know why we didn't stop him. I guess we knew that we couldn't stop him anyway. I don't know what I was looking at, but I remember that I just couldn't bring myself to watch. So all I heard was a dull thud as he predictably crashed into the floor. I looked over, and it was much worse than I thought it would be. I thought he'd maybe just hurt his leg or sprain an ankle. So I look over, and he's face down on the floor. He lifts his head up, his glasses are off, and his nose is clearly mashed. The pretty soon blood starts pouring out his nose. Rodzilla went over, and I was a little worried that he'd get his weird Czech blood all over her. But there's no stopping her when she gets into nurturing mode. Rosario and I sort of excused ourselves from the situation and shared our astonishment of how fucked up the situation was. The guy's friend couldn't stop laughing. The whole time we were talking to him, even before he broke his face, the english speaking friend just kept apologizing, "He's just an idiot." And he just kept laughing. So after the mess is cleaned up we relocate to the bar. The blood has stopped by now, and the guy hugs Rodzilla in thanks. Again, fear of weird Czech blood. Kelly starts talking to the English speaking friend. I went to the bathroom a few minutes later, and was astounded when I happened to look and see the fucking Czech guy, leaned against a table, trying to jump through his goddam leg again. This guy was an idiot in any language. So I just go into the bathroom, and the whole time I'm waiting to hear the harsh thud again. But it never came. So then were decided to leave. Kelly apparently was quite insistent on staying with the Czech guy. But there was really no way we were going to let that happen. I don't really know her that well, but even if I didn't know her at all, just as a fellow human being I wouldn't have let her stay. Completely drunk and with a strange Eastern European man. Hmmm... So James and Rodzilla tried to calmly talk her out. They finally succeeded, but she was pretty indignant. Rodzilla tried talking to her the whole way back to Rosario's house, but it didn't seem to do much good. So it was a rather solemn walk back in the rain. Rosario did not appear amused in the least. So when we got back, Rodzilla and I left. I called a car service, and we waited for the cars out in the rain. it seemed preferable to the uncomfortable situation in Rosario's kitchen.
It was a pretty rough car ride home. I fought sleep the whole way. I was aided by the abrasive music of Ja Rule, blaring from the car's stereo. I can see where his voice has a unique appeal, but when he tries to actually sing, the results are god-awful. So I got home shortly before 4. I talked with Rodzilla around then. She said something about having a good time "...until the Czech broke his face." That little phrase seemed incredibly hilarious to me. I want to have an album or song named "...Until the Czech Broke His Face."
So today I had lunch with Jen K's friend Beth. She called me on Saturday afternoon and asked me if I wanted to have lunch with her today. I was caught off guard, so i didn't really know what to say. I actually missed her call and was returning her message, and I knew she's kind of interested in me, so I don't know why I was that off guard. I think it was the lunch thing, and how quickly she just got into the asking. No real "Hi, how are you?"s or anything. Just "Hey, do you want to go to lunch tomorrow?" I guess you have to admire that kind of forwardness. So I met her at an organic food place on Spring St. and Lafayette. She's a pretty attractive girl, but I don't know that we have all that much in common. But it's always nice to be asked. I had no idea it was so easy. Maybe I should be trying something like that. Nah, that's crazy. Stop talking crazy.Well, here are quite a few pictures from the weekend.
Matt, relaxing on a car seat in the back yard. Not the grill precariously perched on a bucket/cinderblock/wood pedestal.
Jed, eating a pretzel That's a "Happy Birthday" themed plastic table clothe Dierdre brought and tied to the fence. It was sort of silly, but in an amusing, pathetic way.
My foot, Matt's feet. I was trying to be artsy or something I think.
Matt, with the car seat in the reclining mode. He was very pleased to discover that the reclining mechanism still functioned.
James, with the two necessities of any successful barbecue: A spatula, and ample seating.
A picture of the grill. We were most impressed with how the flame is captured in this picture. It looked better at hi res.
Matt, modeling the various articles of Rosario's clothing to warm the guests. The vest is hers, if you couldn't tell.
Matt, Jen, and Jed standing by the fire pit. Jen eating a tofu dog. Not really by choice.
A few of barbarians at the gate.
Matt, with the blood rubbed on his face. I thought it was ketchup till someone told me otherwise.
James and Kelly, with the weird, idiotic Czech guy in the back.
The Czech guy, after falling off the stage, before breaking his face.
Mere seconds before breaking his face. Actually, he hopped around like this for a bout a minute. Someone yelled "Hey, I can hop like that too!"
Rodzilla, who likes to try to look glamorous after drinking large amounts of alcohol. She'd been drinking all day. She works at a wine shop.
A passed-out guy. He was kicked out a few minutes later. The bartenders said "You always do this." I just like the creepy pictures in his little notebook.Curiously, this is the first time I can ever recall taking this many pictures without even thinking to take one of myself. i wonder what that means. There were about twice this many taken, too. Though I did have Rodzilla take one of me late last night, after coming to this realization. But still, it's noteworthy for me.