The last week has been completely overwhelming, and the next is going to be even worse. I'm worn down and in no mood to blog. Too bad, though, cause there's been some awesome material of late, including me belting out Love Hurts at a karaoke bar on Ave A last night. There's a lot going on, much of it really exciting. About to make a big move, shoot my first commercial, and get started on a new documentary. All at once. My head hurts.
But in lieu of a real post, I just couldn't let this day go by without commemorating it. This is my very last day in an office, hopefully forever!!! I can't overstate the magnificence of knowing I don't have to go to work anymore. When I decided to tip my toe in the advertising waters two years ago, part of my agenda was to get to a point where I could work from home, but actually not starve to death (as I was about to do writing novelty books). It was a slog, but it totally paid off. Freedom, here I come.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
A Helpful Creative Tip for Dan Deacon
I hit the Girl Talk show at Webster Hall Saturday night (or, rather, Saturday evening, as doors opened at 5:30pm!). GT was amazing. Brother right-clicked the muthafuckin' doors off that place. And by the way, if you ever find yourself at a laptop rock show, it's incredibly, brilliantly fun to scream things like "F12!" from the crowd. Especially if you've just come from The Continental, where 5 shots of anything cost $10. Wow.
Anyhow, this is really just a short post for the benefit of Dan Deacon, who opened for the main act. Dan, you know that raised platform at the front of the dance floor? It's called a stage, dude. And when you're playing a show in public, you should sort of get up on top of that thing instead of sitting at your computer down on the floor for no reason. Not that there's much to see at these types of shows anyway, but if I wanted to stand there and just listen to a bunch of ho-hum electronica in the dark, I could have stayed home and punched in a couple of pre-sets from my mid-1980s era Casio keyboard. At least try to put on a show or something. Come on. These tickets aren't cheap. And that flashing skull from the Halloween shop in the mall doesn't count.
Girl Talk, on the other hand, while also just a dude w/ a Mac, rocked the house, y'all. Now THAT is how you put on a show. ON STAGE. With some video going behind you, jumpin' around in your hoodie, sweatin' like a fat dude at the Old Country Buffet...this shit was electric. Great, great show.
Anyhow, this is really just a short post for the benefit of Dan Deacon, who opened for the main act. Dan, you know that raised platform at the front of the dance floor? It's called a stage, dude. And when you're playing a show in public, you should sort of get up on top of that thing instead of sitting at your computer down on the floor for no reason. Not that there's much to see at these types of shows anyway, but if I wanted to stand there and just listen to a bunch of ho-hum electronica in the dark, I could have stayed home and punched in a couple of pre-sets from my mid-1980s era Casio keyboard. At least try to put on a show or something. Come on. These tickets aren't cheap. And that flashing skull from the Halloween shop in the mall doesn't count.
Girl Talk, on the other hand, while also just a dude w/ a Mac, rocked the house, y'all. Now THAT is how you put on a show. ON STAGE. With some video going behind you, jumpin' around in your hoodie, sweatin' like a fat dude at the Old Country Buffet...this shit was electric. Great, great show.
Friday, September 14, 2007
DC or Not DC
This has been the question for the past several months. Five and a half years into a long-distance relationship, one of us has to give in. Somehow, that one of us is me. Huh. I honestly never thought I'd lose that argument. I mean, I've got NYC on my side. But, alas, two more weeks and I'm out of here. The whole decision making process sort of happened in a blur, to the point that I'm not even sure there was a process at all. Yet I kind of think there will be some serious advantages to this move. And so, in the spirit of rationalization, I give you the Why I Think This Is A Good Idea list:
[Note: most people I talk to assume that the biggest benefit will be seeing my girlfriend all the time, as opposed to two weekends a month. Not so. If she moved here, I'd see her all the time, too. So that's a wash.]
1. The undeniable dream of working from home, in an actual home office: I am quite possibly the laziest person alive. Unfortunately, my parents neglected to set up a trust fund, and so I am forced to schlep off to work every day, where I am surrounded by idiots, some of whom actually seem interested in the business at hand. There is nothing worse than being in an office. Likewise for being on a schedule. Why can't I go see a movie in the middle of the day whenever the hell I feel like it? Why do I have to sit here till 6 (a completely arbitrary time) whether or not I'm busy? Uh, I don't know. But that shit is over. I've always wanted a home office. I've always wanted to live on my own schedule, on my own terms. Could I pull this off in NYC? Possibly, but there certainly wouldn't be a home office. I mean an actual, honest-to-goodness room (with door!) dedicated to my work and writing and filmmaking and Netflix queue building. I couldn't be more excited about this.
1a. Working from anywhere: The real beauty of telecommuting is the ability to shed geography. Maybe I feel like going to LA for a month. Maybe I just wanna head up to the Jersey Shore and visit the folks (and watch the Phillies stumble about). Maybe I wanna swing up to NYC for a few days. As long as I can get online, I can dash off my copywriting work and get paid. It's beautiful.
2. Lack of schedule = creativity: Of course, my laziness might totally squash this, but in theory, since I'll be working 3 days a week on average, I should have more time to write and pursue other creative interests, all of which have pretty much fallen under the bus since I went back to work. That documentary I've been wanting to shoot but couldn't find the time? Well, now I've got time.
3. Outdoor space: the holy grail of NYC living pretty much grows on trees down in DC (pun intended). As (both) avid readers of this blog know, my week in Maine was something of a revelation. I love the outdoors. Or, at least I love going outdoors for a few minutes to drink my coffee. It's not like I wanna sleep out there or anything. But damn, you should see our outdoor space. It's phenomenal! Manicured to within an inch of its life by the current stylish gay tenants. I'm sure I'll kill everything in about a week, but this place is like a damn botanical garden or something. I might need to buy some koi or some shit.
4. I am obsessed with food. Obviously, DC's culinary scene is, well, totally nonexistent. But the girlfriend has cobbled together a semi-obsessive circle of foodies who convene every 2 weeks for elaborate home cooked feasts. And guess who gets to just waltz into this scene? Yup, me. I'm gonna eat and drink wine like a maniac. This is the sort of thing I used to do in NYC until all my friend either had kids and moved to the burbs or moved to LA like normal people. Ah, dinner.
5. Never having to think about fashion, hairstyle, or physical fitness ever again: Have you seen the people down there? It's like you just woke up in a NJ strip mall circa 1992.
6. Paying off debt: As long as I stay in NYC, my credit card debt ain't going anywhere. And as long as my credit card debt ain't going anywhere, I better just keeping dreaming about my gigantic flat screen TV and super stylish Vespa motor scooter. But a year in DC will put a giant dent in this debt, which I'll celebrate by immediately charging the above mentioned major purchases. Ah, progress.
7. The ability to (mildly) impress people at cocktail parties: Saying you're a writer in NYC is pretty much like saying you're a garbageman, albeit a much worse paid one. Odds are, there's an actually successful writer at the same party. Or if not, everyone there is a "writer" of some sort. In DC, if you say anything other than "lawyer" people light up like you just got back from a moon landing. It reminds me of Boston.
8. Watching the Phillies win: As I'll be relegated to the lowly Orioles/Nationals baseball viewing options, at least I'll take heart in observing the Phils beat up on inferior competition, as opposed to being trifled with by the detestable Mets. Then again, Nats/Orioles? This is gonna be rough.
9. Never stepping foot on Amtrak: the worst thing about long-distance dating, by far, is all the time spent on Amtrak. There's nothing quite like washing down an abysmal workweek with 4 hours of torturous rail travel. I've seen Penn Station's Arrivals/Departures board in my nightmares.
I just ran out of coffee, so that's that. Would my list of Reasons Not To Move To DC be a gazillion times longer? Yeah, yeah. But let's not think about that. It's Friday and the NY sun is shining...
[Note: most people I talk to assume that the biggest benefit will be seeing my girlfriend all the time, as opposed to two weekends a month. Not so. If she moved here, I'd see her all the time, too. So that's a wash.]
1. The undeniable dream of working from home, in an actual home office: I am quite possibly the laziest person alive. Unfortunately, my parents neglected to set up a trust fund, and so I am forced to schlep off to work every day, where I am surrounded by idiots, some of whom actually seem interested in the business at hand. There is nothing worse than being in an office. Likewise for being on a schedule. Why can't I go see a movie in the middle of the day whenever the hell I feel like it? Why do I have to sit here till 6 (a completely arbitrary time) whether or not I'm busy? Uh, I don't know. But that shit is over. I've always wanted a home office. I've always wanted to live on my own schedule, on my own terms. Could I pull this off in NYC? Possibly, but there certainly wouldn't be a home office. I mean an actual, honest-to-goodness room (with door!) dedicated to my work and writing and filmmaking and Netflix queue building. I couldn't be more excited about this.
1a. Working from anywhere: The real beauty of telecommuting is the ability to shed geography. Maybe I feel like going to LA for a month. Maybe I just wanna head up to the Jersey Shore and visit the folks (and watch the Phillies stumble about). Maybe I wanna swing up to NYC for a few days. As long as I can get online, I can dash off my copywriting work and get paid. It's beautiful.
2. Lack of schedule = creativity: Of course, my laziness might totally squash this, but in theory, since I'll be working 3 days a week on average, I should have more time to write and pursue other creative interests, all of which have pretty much fallen under the bus since I went back to work. That documentary I've been wanting to shoot but couldn't find the time? Well, now I've got time.
3. Outdoor space: the holy grail of NYC living pretty much grows on trees down in DC (pun intended). As (both) avid readers of this blog know, my week in Maine was something of a revelation. I love the outdoors. Or, at least I love going outdoors for a few minutes to drink my coffee. It's not like I wanna sleep out there or anything. But damn, you should see our outdoor space. It's phenomenal! Manicured to within an inch of its life by the current stylish gay tenants. I'm sure I'll kill everything in about a week, but this place is like a damn botanical garden or something. I might need to buy some koi or some shit.
4. I am obsessed with food. Obviously, DC's culinary scene is, well, totally nonexistent. But the girlfriend has cobbled together a semi-obsessive circle of foodies who convene every 2 weeks for elaborate home cooked feasts. And guess who gets to just waltz into this scene? Yup, me. I'm gonna eat and drink wine like a maniac. This is the sort of thing I used to do in NYC until all my friend either had kids and moved to the burbs or moved to LA like normal people. Ah, dinner.
5. Never having to think about fashion, hairstyle, or physical fitness ever again: Have you seen the people down there? It's like you just woke up in a NJ strip mall circa 1992.
6. Paying off debt: As long as I stay in NYC, my credit card debt ain't going anywhere. And as long as my credit card debt ain't going anywhere, I better just keeping dreaming about my gigantic flat screen TV and super stylish Vespa motor scooter. But a year in DC will put a giant dent in this debt, which I'll celebrate by immediately charging the above mentioned major purchases. Ah, progress.
7. The ability to (mildly) impress people at cocktail parties: Saying you're a writer in NYC is pretty much like saying you're a garbageman, albeit a much worse paid one. Odds are, there's an actually successful writer at the same party. Or if not, everyone there is a "writer" of some sort. In DC, if you say anything other than "lawyer" people light up like you just got back from a moon landing. It reminds me of Boston.
8. Watching the Phillies win: As I'll be relegated to the lowly Orioles/Nationals baseball viewing options, at least I'll take heart in observing the Phils beat up on inferior competition, as opposed to being trifled with by the detestable Mets. Then again, Nats/Orioles? This is gonna be rough.
9. Never stepping foot on Amtrak: the worst thing about long-distance dating, by far, is all the time spent on Amtrak. There's nothing quite like washing down an abysmal workweek with 4 hours of torturous rail travel. I've seen Penn Station's Arrivals/Departures board in my nightmares.
I just ran out of coffee, so that's that. Would my list of Reasons Not To Move To DC be a gazillion times longer? Yeah, yeah. But let's not think about that. It's Friday and the NY sun is shining...
Monday, September 10, 2007
DC Real Estate
I've seen some crazy shit in my time -- a one-armed/no-legged juggler in San Diego, midget bowling, people who enjoy children -- but nothing prepared me for the sheer lunacy that is the Washington, DC, apartment rental market. I thought I lived in an expensive city, but after a weekend spent looking at places in DC, well, I stand corrected. There is simply no accounting for the preposterous levels of cash people are (apparently) plunking down to rent a place in our nation's crapital. To my mind, there are two factors which inform the value of one's living quarters: location and the quality of the housing itself. In DC, you get neither, and you get neither for an incredible amount of money.
For example: I looked at a god-forsaken basement hovel wherein I not only had to choke back vomit while perusing the bathroom, but in which my lanky 5' 9" (in shoes) frame was unable to stand fully upright. I've often wondered what it would feel like to be tall, and thanks to this craphole, now I know. Oh, and you also had to walk down an ally right out of South Central to get to the place. And the detestable sound of rampaging children could be heard from the apartment upstairs. And I'm pretty sure the landlord was sitting outside sharpening a knife when we arrived. And the kitchenette was apparently lifted wholesale from a 1970s-era mobile home.
The price? $350 more per month than I pay for a very nice apartment in Manhattan. No shit.
And this isn't an anomaly. Even when places weren't horrible, even when they were sort of comparable, I just couldn't see paying more to live in DC than I'm paying in NYC. It's like the entire District has lost it's mind. And I'm left to wonder, why would anyone choose to live there? The big plus of cities like Philly, DC, Providence, etc is that they are affordable. If the market's actually worse, why not just live in NYC? Seriously, I need answers. It's totally mind-boggling.
Location is the real killer, though. When you find a nice place in DC, odds are it's in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe there's a bus nearby or something. Or maybe it's "near stuff" in DC terms, which means stuff is in striking distance if you're in pretty good physical shape, have a car, or don't mind walking through the ghetto to get there. It's not like you step out your door and are surrounded by stuff. You're surrounded by other houses. Like the burbs.
So, if it's not location, and if you're not getting more for your money (aside from a single place, all were below average at best), what's going on? How are these prices possible?
But somehow we miraculously found a great place. Not sure how, but it happened. Still, I'd like to go back and punch that hovel-renting slumlord in the face.
For example: I looked at a god-forsaken basement hovel wherein I not only had to choke back vomit while perusing the bathroom, but in which my lanky 5' 9" (in shoes) frame was unable to stand fully upright. I've often wondered what it would feel like to be tall, and thanks to this craphole, now I know. Oh, and you also had to walk down an ally right out of South Central to get to the place. And the detestable sound of rampaging children could be heard from the apartment upstairs. And I'm pretty sure the landlord was sitting outside sharpening a knife when we arrived. And the kitchenette was apparently lifted wholesale from a 1970s-era mobile home.
The price? $350 more per month than I pay for a very nice apartment in Manhattan. No shit.
And this isn't an anomaly. Even when places weren't horrible, even when they were sort of comparable, I just couldn't see paying more to live in DC than I'm paying in NYC. It's like the entire District has lost it's mind. And I'm left to wonder, why would anyone choose to live there? The big plus of cities like Philly, DC, Providence, etc is that they are affordable. If the market's actually worse, why not just live in NYC? Seriously, I need answers. It's totally mind-boggling.
Location is the real killer, though. When you find a nice place in DC, odds are it's in the middle of nowhere. Or maybe there's a bus nearby or something. Or maybe it's "near stuff" in DC terms, which means stuff is in striking distance if you're in pretty good physical shape, have a car, or don't mind walking through the ghetto to get there. It's not like you step out your door and are surrounded by stuff. You're surrounded by other houses. Like the burbs.
So, if it's not location, and if you're not getting more for your money (aside from a single place, all were below average at best), what's going on? How are these prices possible?
But somehow we miraculously found a great place. Not sure how, but it happened. Still, I'd like to go back and punch that hovel-renting slumlord in the face.
Friday, August 31, 2007
Assorted String Instruments
I've been nursing a fantasy of learning the banjo for the past half year or so. Last night I got together with a few friends at Hill Country, the incredible Texas-bbq themed extravaganza down the street from my office. I've been a few times for lunch, but at night the place was really hopping. We got a table directly adjacent to the downstairs stage, where halfway through our meal (I had a quarter chicken dark, a single pork rib, white bread, campfire baked beans with burnt ends, cole slaw, and, this being NYC after all, a PBR) a 5 piece country bluegrass (or something) outfit began doing their thing. I had a really closeup look at the banjo player, and let's just say it was a rather sobering experience. I literally couldn't even begin to comprehend what his hands were doing. It wouldn't have been more alien or intimidating if he'd started flying around the room. I mean, I can't fly. How does he do that?
There were several musicians at the table, so I asked if the banjo was really as difficult as it looks. Not only did they answer in the affirmative, but two guitarists told me they wouldn't even know where to begin with a banjo. This was mindblowing, as I've been suffering under a lifelong delusion that once you've learned any string instrument, you were sort of covered on all the others (perhaps excepting fiddles and other things involving bows). But apparently even if you've played the guitar for twenty years, the banjo is another story altogether.
Looking around stage, I saw a banjo, a guitar, a mandolin, a fiddle, and an upright bass. Obviously the bass is out. What a terrible instrument to take up. Can you imagine schlepping that thing all over town? I was schvitzin' just thinking about it. Plus, it's obviously the easiest to play. Though I want it to be easy, I'm not sure I want it to be that easy. The acoustic guitar struck me as it always does: serviceable, okay, nice enough, but a tad on the commonplace side. Plus, if I learn to play guitar, I'm afraid I'll have to morph into one of those guys who sits strumming out on their stoop, playing and singing at a volume just audible enough to register as annoying. The mandolin was actually pretty sweet, and the dude playing it had a lot of nice moves. But it still looks like it's halfway to a ukulele. Do women find the mandolin attractive? Would strolling about town with my mini-mandolin case make me look cool? I'm really not sure, but it doesn't seem like a slam dunk. The fiddle is cool, but somehow way out of my league. The whole bow thing throws me off somehow. Plus, the musicians at my table vouched that the fiddle was probably even more difficult to learn than the banjo, as it doesn't have frets (whatever they are). I nodded like I knew what they were talking about. Which brings us back to the banjo. Super difficult or no, it just looks incredibly cool when a dude can play that thing. And I just really love the sound. The banjo makes me wanna quit my day job, also quit my night job (writing, in theory), also quit my fantasy baseball league, also cancel my Netflix subscription, and spend my days wandering about Appalachia, playing my banjo and chopping firewood to make ends meet. Can you even imagine the great beard I could grow in Appalachia? Goddamn. That's the life.
Anyway, I'm not sure easiness is the best way to choose an instrument. Aren't you like supposed to feel some calling or creative urge to pick something up? When great musicians start to play, is learning curve on their list of requirements? Somehow, I doubt it. So maybe it is the banjo still.
Oh, and a side note: GO PHILLIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There were several musicians at the table, so I asked if the banjo was really as difficult as it looks. Not only did they answer in the affirmative, but two guitarists told me they wouldn't even know where to begin with a banjo. This was mindblowing, as I've been suffering under a lifelong delusion that once you've learned any string instrument, you were sort of covered on all the others (perhaps excepting fiddles and other things involving bows). But apparently even if you've played the guitar for twenty years, the banjo is another story altogether.
Looking around stage, I saw a banjo, a guitar, a mandolin, a fiddle, and an upright bass. Obviously the bass is out. What a terrible instrument to take up. Can you imagine schlepping that thing all over town? I was schvitzin' just thinking about it. Plus, it's obviously the easiest to play. Though I want it to be easy, I'm not sure I want it to be that easy. The acoustic guitar struck me as it always does: serviceable, okay, nice enough, but a tad on the commonplace side. Plus, if I learn to play guitar, I'm afraid I'll have to morph into one of those guys who sits strumming out on their stoop, playing and singing at a volume just audible enough to register as annoying. The mandolin was actually pretty sweet, and the dude playing it had a lot of nice moves. But it still looks like it's halfway to a ukulele. Do women find the mandolin attractive? Would strolling about town with my mini-mandolin case make me look cool? I'm really not sure, but it doesn't seem like a slam dunk. The fiddle is cool, but somehow way out of my league. The whole bow thing throws me off somehow. Plus, the musicians at my table vouched that the fiddle was probably even more difficult to learn than the banjo, as it doesn't have frets (whatever they are). I nodded like I knew what they were talking about. Which brings us back to the banjo. Super difficult or no, it just looks incredibly cool when a dude can play that thing. And I just really love the sound. The banjo makes me wanna quit my day job, also quit my night job (writing, in theory), also quit my fantasy baseball league, also cancel my Netflix subscription, and spend my days wandering about Appalachia, playing my banjo and chopping firewood to make ends meet. Can you even imagine the great beard I could grow in Appalachia? Goddamn. That's the life.
Anyway, I'm not sure easiness is the best way to choose an instrument. Aren't you like supposed to feel some calling or creative urge to pick something up? When great musicians start to play, is learning curve on their list of requirements? Somehow, I doubt it. So maybe it is the banjo still.
Oh, and a side note: GO PHILLIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Top 20
I just got home and I'm really, really drunk. Saw "Hannah Takes the Stairs" at IFC Center (eh, average), then stumbled upon a preposterously amazing random restaurant that served incredibly strong frozen margaritas for $4, plus really awesome pasta, garlic bread, and salads. I'm barely lucid. It was phenomenal. I can barely think straight...but I was pondering an all-time favorite top 20 movie list in the cab home. I'm, again, incredibly drunk, but I'm going to give it the ol' stream of consciousness try. These aren't the best 20 movies of all time, they are merely the first 20 movies that occur to me as "my favorite." Off the top of my head, these are the 20 movies that make me, well, me. In no order:
The Goonies
Back to the Future
Raging Bull
Rushmore
Annie Hall
Manhattan
To Die For
Out of the Past
Trainspotting
The Princess Bride
The Natural
The Graduate
Sweet and Lowdown
The Godfather
The Breakfast Club
Saturday Night Fever
Raiders of the Lost Ark
Heathers
Rocky
Badlands
The Goonies
Back to the Future
Raging Bull
Rushmore
Annie Hall
Manhattan
To Die For
Out of the Past
Trainspotting
The Princess Bride
The Natural
The Graduate
Sweet and Lowdown
The Godfather
The Breakfast Club
Saturday Night Fever
Raiders of the Lost Ark
Heathers
Rocky
Badlands
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Me and My Mac
It's been twelve days since I ordered my exorbitantly expensive Macbook, or Powerbook, or whatever it's called. Twelve days and the thing hasn't even shipped yet! I hope this isn't a metaphor for how slow the actual computer will be (actually, given its price tag, I'd better be able to travel at the speed of light with this thing). It occurred to me during this interminably long wait that ordering a Mac is pretty much exactly like ordering a mail-order bride. But I mean ordering a mail-order bride around the turn of last century (107 years ago, not 7), back when your bride had to schlep over to America on some sort of tramp steamer and get caught up at like Ellis Island or something and then have to lug her gigantic steamer trunk out to the middle of the US via some rinky dink railroad. And there weren't phones or faxes or emails or FedEx, so I guess you just sort of had to wait until the mail-order bride plopped down on your doorstep, however long it took. Then once she was there, you could only keep your fingers crossed that she spoke English, was reasonably attractive (and fertile, this being a century ago, when people still enjoyed children), and didn't give you too much Eastern European socialist backtalk. Yup, that's me and my Mac.
Everyone I mention this ridiculous scenario to responds by asking, "Why didn't you just go to the Mac store?" Uh, for the same reason I don't attend Star Trek conventions. Cause I don't want to be in the same room with several hundred feverish Mac devotees drooling over phones and other slightly intriguing consumer items. It's creepy up in the Mac store. Seriously, I wouldn't look twice if Jim Jones started working at the Genius Bar (or whatever the hell it's called). If any of my readers happen to be scouting locations for the next Romero-esque zombie thriller/social satire, check out your local Mac store.
In the meantime, I wait. One day, perhaps, a computer will actually arrive. Hopefully I'll still be young enough to remember how to use it.
Everyone I mention this ridiculous scenario to responds by asking, "Why didn't you just go to the Mac store?" Uh, for the same reason I don't attend Star Trek conventions. Cause I don't want to be in the same room with several hundred feverish Mac devotees drooling over phones and other slightly intriguing consumer items. It's creepy up in the Mac store. Seriously, I wouldn't look twice if Jim Jones started working at the Genius Bar (or whatever the hell it's called). If any of my readers happen to be scouting locations for the next Romero-esque zombie thriller/social satire, check out your local Mac store.
In the meantime, I wait. One day, perhaps, a computer will actually arrive. Hopefully I'll still be young enough to remember how to use it.
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