Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Flowers in the attic
I made these bittersweet-chocolate paperweights after coming across a recipe online. I know I found it through these guys, but I can't find the corresponding entry for anything. Anyway, they came out pretty alright. A bit dense and milk-requiring rich (like fudge, almost), but worth the cost of ingredients.
That powdered sugar makes me think of arsenic, though.
"All I know is we're here and it's now"
Full w/e. Saturday night, I saw Jens Lekman at Webster Hall, and though the gimmickry was a bit much (band in matching 50s outfits, girls in pigtails, cutsie synchronized dance moves...), it was totally worth it. Jens (a Swede, 'course) was really friendly and interactive, and he squeezed all of my favorites into his set.
Come Sunday, Morrissey was up. I got my tickets last minute ($22 Ticketmaster special! whoa), but the anticipation was good and there. So, um, what to say? It's Morrissey. He's old, he's a bit haggard, but when he launched into songs like "Stretch Out and Wait" (one of a few Smiths songs he pulled outta the bag), both points were fast forgotten. As one stage-side fan, handed the mic halfway into the set, aptly remarked: "I'm sure I speak for everyone here tonight when I say that you still sound fucking amazing!" (or something close). He really did. Maybe a little tired/cracked, considering he was coming off a five-show wind through NYC, but the croon is alive and well. And he still rips his shirt(s) (this time, a denim button-up number followed by a "Je Suis Morrissey" tee) off toward the end, still receives/tosses roses, and he still whips that mic cord around and around and around. Surprisingly, he welcomed a few rabid fans up onstage--full-on hugging them, even. Wild. For anyone interested, this was the lineup:
Stop Me If You Think You've Heard This One Before (some complained, but I liked this as an opener)
Billy Budd (LOVE THIS ONE--besides, best Melville story ever)
Interesting Drug (happy/surprised to hear)
Shoplifters Of The World Unite
Irish Blood, English Heart
I Just Want To See The Boy Happy
Girlfriend In A Coma (aww)
The Last Of The Famous International Playboys
Human Being
I Like You
Jack The Ripper
Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself?
Stretch Out And Wait (swoon)
The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores
Good Looking Man About Town (why don't I know this?)
Sister, I'm A Poet
Death Of A Disco Dancer
I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris
You Have Killed Me
Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want (swoon II)
How Soon Is Now? (great guitars!)
First Of The Gang To Die (encore, and another personal, albeit newer, fav)
Monday, October 29, 2007
Interesting drug
It's me.
Yeah, so on Friday I joined Bilzer & his agile beau at this place for some good ol' fashioned trapeze artistry. Ever since learning that K is a regular, I've wanted to give it a go, and I finally did. It was Billy's first time, too, which was nice. Not that I was all that nervous going into the evening; honestly, my ego was a little inflated. "Trapezing? What a hoot! A surefire rollicking good time." Not so fast. Getting up on that board--the mere process of climbing the stairs--proved almost more than I could handle. It was like summer camp ropes course fright all over again. And Billy and I were in total agreement here. Fortunately, we were also on the same page w/ the whole pride thing (blubbering fools we are not!), which enabled us to clear that last rung. And inch slowly toward the center of the platform. And
W/ each flight, I/we improved, save some minor regressions along the way. My most enduring problem seemed to be responding to cues in a timely fashion. Apparently I would react a second slow, and w/ such consistency early on that the instructor temporarily delayed my cues in order to match my established pattern. But I got better, and I nailed my last turn, which felt really satisfying.
Let's see... So the last half hour (two hour-long session) was spent 'catching'--or, in our novice-cases, 'being caught.' I actually considering passing on this part, but in the end, that pride thing won out and I just went. So did B. And yikes, we did really well! B nailed it straight away, while I took a 'warm-up turn' before hitting the mark. This is basically how it works: A very learned person (last pic) swings back and forth on a bar that hangs several feet in front of and above your own. The same cues are given, though this time they come from the swinging person (the catcher) rather than from the instructor on the ground. Oh, and you never return hands to bar and legs to downward position--your legs stay curled around the bar, w/ back arched, arms stretched long, and eyes pointing up/back toward the catcher, who's also by now mid-flight and almost ready to grab you. Thing is, w/ catching, timing is everything; if you're the splittiest of split seconds late (ahem, my first turn), the catcher will reach out for a pair of arms (yours) that are too slow to arrive and you'll swing back toward the platform clutching nothing save your deepest regrets. Ouch. Anyway, I was late the first time, resulting in an awkward and desperate clashing of limbs, but I got it together my second (and final) time, and when I looked up and first spied the catcher's freckled, outstretched arms, I knew it was gonna work. My arms landed easily in her hands, and off the bar I flew, swinging to a nice, clean finish. In the minutes that followed, I was hit w/ a sense of gratitude, which almost choked me up. I don't know, I found it sweet, moving, that someone would take that kind of risk (catchers don't wear a harness), and repeatedly, so that others might experience the resulting rush. My emotion could also, I suppose, be wrapped up in the concept of being 'looked after,' which often feels poignant, sweet.
In sum: Hooked! B and are planning to go back on a monthly basis. (They teach tightrope walking, even! If only it were all a smidge cheaper.)
Billybird.
Our catcher.
*B and I were talking a few days ago about this, about how strangely our memories acted post-swings. It was like we would remember being up there, remember moving physically through the air, but had vaguer recollection when it came to specifics. Our brains seemed, to a degree, to shut down once we set ourselves in motion, and it was only w/ significant effort that I was able to reproduce, in writing, a detailed account of the experience. The cues, the sequence... Easily jumbled, post-fact.
**I don't know, according to K, many a first-timer never even clears the board.
***Physics can be your friend! So long as your timing's right, positional shifts are naturally given assistance.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Reroute
x
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Everett!
A little hometown recognition: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/10/us/10recycle.html?em&ex=
1192248000&en=0c7c9d8952bb1b86&ei=5070
Nice credit.
In pictures
Awhile ago I got an email from a woman who wanted to maybe use a picture of mine (Fairway Market) in some magazine. It's called Go, and it's an airline rag (AirTran). Anyway, I was momentarily confused upon receiving a copy of said mag in the mail the other day. Then I remembered the email.
It's funny, I took so many pictures of Red Hook (cross your fingers--I may be back, several things pending), and they chose the blandest one. Not that they were going for arty.
Tuesday, October 02, 2007
Home/heart
Anticipating a (thwarted*) New England roadtrip, I recently re-read Travels w/ Charley. Several books ago I started jotting down not-to-be-forgotten passages, and I swear I must've transcribed half the text by the time I was through w/ this one. Among countless others, this paragraph--the very last--feels personally relevant.
An old-fashioned cop w/ a fine red face and a frosty blue eye leaned in toward me. "What's the matter w/ you, Mac, drunk?" he asked. I said, "Officer, I've driven this thing all over the country--mountains, plains, deserts. And now I'm back in my own town, where I live--and I'm lost." He grinned happily. "Think nothing of it, Mac," he said. "I got lost in Brooklyn only Saturday. Now where is it you were wanting to go?" And that's how the traveller came home again.
*A car was supposed to be involved, w/ me behind its wheel. But confronted w/ various legal obstacles, I was just today forced to surrender the cause. Unfortunate. Still, not all hope was lost: Amtrak holds the keys now. It's looking like three nights in Montreal and a night in a sweet Adirondack town (Westport), which isn't the 'night in Providence/night in Portland/two nights in Montreal/night in Saratoga' I'd envisioned, but it's not as if I'm leaving this coast anytime soon, so hey.