Sunday, May 28, 2006

home alone

I'm hijacking someone's wi-fi to get on this since we don't have dsl service yet. But we're all moved!!!

It was a grueling day yesterday, drove all the way to brooklyn to get a fridge from a friend (that ended up not fitting) and we were ferrying things from our old place to the new one until late in the evening (thanks CC!. But now it's actually starting to take shape. Feels like our home.

Plenty of work to be done but at least we're all moved in (with no moving casualities) and the place is getting cleaner and brighter (lots of wobbly ladder time to get new bulbs in).

Brad is in town and made it up this afternoon. Now we hope to finally use some of our three-day weekend to get a little celebrating done. Bout time!

Saturday, May 27, 2006

your space is my space

everyone keeps saying: myspace! myspace!

I keep saying nothing. I've been able to ignore the clamor for this long. How much longer can I hold out?

Won't this social networking system be dead by next week (especially after Rupert bought it) and there will be a new one that's all the rage? Doesn't it worry you that a billionaire paid $300 million so that he had the perfect niche marketing scheme? Or maybe that's just me being paranoid.

But it does seem less annoying than the friend*ter magnet ever was. And bands sure love it.

OK, maybe I'm finally swayed.

Today's moving day so I'll successfully ignore your space a little bit longer.

Friday, May 26, 2006

maybe

I wanted to post something great about Erica visiting me.

I wanted to post something about the Erasure concert we went to last weekend.

I also wanted to post something about our Summer Guide issue that just came out.

But instead I'm just going to wait to do all that until after we move this weekend. And maybe, with the three-day weekend and all, I'll finally take the time to actually write something of value here.

Maybe.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

AGH vs. Amazonia MASHUP!

Definitions:

AGH—(also known as, Average Gay Height) The height of most gay men somewhere between 5' 8"-5'9". Anywhere above that height and you are a tall gay man. (below AGH? see: runt party at Nowhere on Wednesday nights.)

Amazon—An unusually tall woman, usually above 5'11" in height.

Last night TrayB and I headed to Irving Plaza to see Goldfrapp. I'd listened to the tracks a little but was actually fairly fresh to the sound and experience. It was an interesting mix of indie gays and trend-specific straights. So it was a sea of AGH individuals except for some clear exceptions. First was the HUGE man who decided that he would leave the fringes of the crowd and go to the center, thus blocking so many of us. I mean, he wasn't just normal tall, he was basketball player, freakish tall. OK, he was behind me and the AGH men and smaller women had to deal.

Then, during the show (Goldfrapp is an interesting blend of Kylie and Blondie with parts Bjork and electroclash. So yes, you get 80s edgy effects with high-concept stuff such as two female dancers dressed like werewolves to a dance-trak, bass-heavy beat) a big ole Amazon placed herself directly in front of me. I tried to knock into her enough to get her to move her ass but instead she lifted her arms and swayed/danced to the beat so that I was left looking at her armpits. She was that tall.

Other folks tried to also smash their way in but at least they were shorter than AGH. Still Amazon continually butted herself into me. I took to sticking out my tongue to see if I accidentally licked her arm or something that she'd freak and move. Luckily there was no flesh tasting and she somehow moved aside to disrupt the view of other AGH folk.

I'm not hating on tall people. But perhaps segregation of some sort would be a good thing. At least when we're all left standing.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

no longer shy


Oh, OK, maybe I'm being too coy about it all. So, you want to know what our new place looks like? Well, we're directly across from City College in Hamilton Heights. But, sorry I'm not putting my address here, we'll correspond privately about that. So here's the corner of our building with City College across the street.

It's a nice big "loft-like" space as people are wont to say. Yes hardwood floors and big windows but we are on the first floor, which means easy moving in but also less light during particular moments during the day. The living room is connected to the kitchen (which must be renovated soon).

There's a little brick fireplace and a long wall perfect for book cases and we're preparing to get our big library tables (with their years of Clemson graffiti intact) up from S. Carolina (if anyone wants to act as mover and bring this stuff up for us, then you have a free place to stay in perpetuity). But that's all in the future. For the moment it's just a big lonely space ready for love.

BTW, there is an extra bedroom/study so don't worry. No more sleeping on our living room floor. Unless of course, you've been out late and partying to hard and you'd prefer the feel of cool wood grooves on your face to that of a soft, comfy bed. But I promise, I'm not going to become some crazed homeowner that discusses renovations as some do their dogs or children. I'll refrain—I hope.

Welcome Home!

Thursday, May 11, 2006

growin up, catching up, living it up

Got to see an old friend who was in town for a quick NY trip this weekend. Amy K. B. was here with Dave and we spent some time traipsing around and went to see Upright Citizen's Brigade. We also caught up with R. Brown for a bit (since he was nearby for business in Newark). Ah, what lovely catching up was to be had: two of my favorite college buddies as well as two of the reasons why I'm in journalism today.

You see, Ryan somehow convinced me to write for our lovely college paper, The Stormy Petrel, back when I was a freshman at OU. My reasons were purely selfish: I wanted the chance to see as much theater in the city and go to movies. Because of our invites to screenings and shows, Amy and I were able to go on a Christina Ricci binge during her alt-movie summer (do you remember when she was the poster child for indie film when indie film was still something unusual and credible as an alternative to the mainstream? It's true). Plus, I was all over Dad's Garage their first year and went to 7Stages and Actor's Express. It's one of the reasons why I fell in love with the city at the time: because I could go experience the arts and culture in a way that most poor college students couldn't.

And now I'm still doing that, just at a higher level: getting the perks of working for a paper in a city that I certainly can't afford as a poor working man.

That last comment is going to seem out of place when I drop the bigger bombshell: P and I bought a home on Friday. Yes, that's right, we took the plunge, the big next step, the great big commitment allowed all Free Americans—homeownership.

Now, you may be saying, "How can he be saying he's poor when he just bought an apartment in one of the most expensive cities for real estate?"

First, it's because of the support and resources of my man (I still am personally as hand-to-mouth as ever) and second because it's a place that is less expensive for "poorer" folk like ourselves. We spent hours (too boring to recount) at the closing on Friday and then, so anti-climactic, I had to go back to work and finish up some things, go to a show with a friend (Tarzan, which sucks bananas) and then head home where Patricio was finishing up his last paper of the semester. Fortunately I had a (free) split of veuve clicquot chilling in the our fridge (thanks PR swag!) and we got a mini-celebration. But the next day we had to run around town get him ready for his Sunday trip to Cuba so we never got to enjoy our new space together. He gets back in two weeks and I'm trying to get some of our stuff moved before he does since we gotta be out of our place by the end of the month. Fun!

But of course, when P's out of town, that doesn't mean I go into hibernation. In fact, I've been so sober and serious lately (and falling asleep early) that I decided to let loose. Monday I went to a party for some Genre folk (we share offices if you didn't know). A little Ketel One later (mixed with shots of Patron) and I was dancing with the straight classifieds guy, everyone looking at me like I was some freak of nature. The next day I felt like the guy who wore a lampshade during the company Xmas party—everyone was staring at me with a knowing smirk. Then Tuesday night, I ended up getting some more drinks and didn't get home til late. Wednesday (last night) I met up with G and Meatcute and others for drinks. And then Ben got us to go over to Phoenix for the $1 draft beers so I didn't make it home until 1 this morning.

So, yes, it's been a busy, busy week so far.

Monday, May 01, 2006

irish are like the blacks—turned inside out


Well, if you had any question about it, the Irish aren't coming. They're already here in NY.

I attended The Faith Healer yesterday with Leonard (and while waiting to get in brushed shoulders with the redhead from Desperate Housewives. (that's right, Marcia Cross! as redhead and pale as they come!)

(that's also where that line in the title comes from, but once I searched on the web, I found out that it was a much more common epithet.)

Then tonight was The Leuitenant of Inishmore, which is perhaps the bloodiest play I've ever seen. There's something in the black comedy with all the cat killing, the guy strung up with his nipple about to be sliced and all the brains blown out that I connected with. Why it's on Broadway, I'm not sure but hey: half the shows on Broadway on the moment are either about incest, cannibalism, vampires or death so why not? (And they're all making money!) But good, funny, intense acting yes. Ralph Fiennes, well he was a bit overwrought, but these guys up there with their thick Irish brogues, now they're funny.

And I was just chatting with my friend Patrice (a full-on redheaded Irish lass) back in BCN about why the Irish are so popular (with that weirdly fun/addictive/scary gmail chat), and she said she heard the Irish are so popular in the States because they were oppressed but have never oppressed anyone. Sounds good enough for me.

I know I can claim my Irish heritage. Although my grandma always told me we were "black Irish" which actually doesn't mean anything to actual Irish, only to American Irish (I'm too tired to find you a link to explain why).

Anyway, it's time for bed. Viva the Irish.