We just finished our semi weekly Ichat video conference with Punk Rock Avy and is City Lovin' Sister, which was a nice way to end what has been a whirlwind few days, and this baffling SOPRANO's finale didn't help much cause that ending was so weird I thought the cable broke. But I liked it! Did you? AJ becoming a development exec for a film company? Shit your pants thats funny.
Here's the rundown:
WEDNESDAY: I watched my friend Kitamura-San's new movie from Japan, LOVEDEATH, which was like 3 hours long and really over the top and funny. Also, violent. I mean, he did VERSUS, which The Kidd hasn't returned to me in four years. Classic. Anyway, check LOVEDEATH's trailer out:
THURSDAY was a free night, intended to devote time to music. B was unavilable, so social thoughts were put into effect. My original plan of ending up at Duffs was derailed by that miserable cunt Lurch and I found myself on the N train to Queens. I tried to steal the Kidd's deoderant, cause everyone knows he's not using that shit, but to no avail cause his girlfriend was over. I also found tons of my shit in their apartment. DVD's, CD's, G, clothing. Weird. Anyhow, G, Kidd, Evan and Leigh took my NYC ass to ACES (32-07 36th Ave between 32nd and 33rd Sts, Long Island City, Queens (718-278-0143). It was really fucking good. I'll let Time Out do the talking:
"Aces is minimalist but sexy, with an iPod-fueled salsa-and-house soundtrack, a glittering red bar and a shadowy dining room. Aranda (Country, Town, Royalton) concocts his own syrups and infusions for creative non-Cosmo cocktails like cinnamon mojitos and ginger margaritas. The talented Huerta enlivens his modern, market-savvy cuisine with Latin American sauces (peppery mole on melting short ribs), Asian touches (luscious panko-crusted skate, pictured) and South of the Border sides (plantains, huitlacoche). All that’s missing is an Aztec chocolate dessert—though we can’t complain about the scrumptious tres leches cake. Aces’ overall appeal is considerable, and the value even more so, with prices topping out at a $20 rib-eye steak"
This was the good shit. But there was a revelation. Perhaps you have read previously or even had the horror of witnessing your hero have a few shots of Jaegermeister. As you know this is akin to giving Osama Bin Laden the keys to the White House. I haven't drank the shit since Dulli at Warsaw in like 03. The Moscow story is whole other ballgame, as mentioned last week. ANYHOW, the revelation, as pointed out by the Kidd, was that the Mojito has the total OPPOSITE effect on me as Jaeg. I was ON. Happy. Funny. A damn good time. Me. Anyhow, the centerpeice was me revealling the details of the eulogy I will give Dan Hamill many years from now at his funeral, titled "10 Things You Didn't Know About Dan Hamill". I revealed 5 of them, my companions guessed two, and I am leaving three blank cause I know I will learn more as we get older. Weird right? Anyhow, a fun night. I also liked having Leigh there cause she is new to the gimmicks and stories you are all tired with. A new audience is great. Fake Married Evan never gets fucking old. Nor does "I feel rejuvinated"...
FRIDAY we re-assembled the group, lost Leigh, but got Lurch and saw OCEANS 13, which of course I loved. Afterwards, while having beers and burgers at Stand (very good), Irene pointed out that the reason we like these movies is because the crew in the movie speaks like the MOGpac: in their own language that no one else gets. I sorta agree with that. If you know what a Susan B. Anthony is, you're part of Ocean's 13. If you know what an Angry Ellie is, you're MOGpac. (someone remind Danny)
SATURDAY was the music. Sweet music. We knocked out some of my last bass for the album (on 1956) and recorded some B guitars on the hidden track. We of course hit Dokebi. We drank Sake and beers. We kept going cause we thought we were gonna do Bday drinkies with Carlos L, but he was stuffing raw fish down his throat or something. While buying beers a bum got some money out of me because he needed help with my contribution to his "Saturday Night Dream". Man you can't argue that shit. B got a lil frustrated with some opening guitars for OUR FAITH, so we called it a night. Then I met irene and her crew for some drinkies at Heathers and I brought it back to Britpop 95 with the gin and tonics. Rich. A day of beers, sake and multiple G&T's beat my ass silly and your hero was scarfing a hot dog at the grays papaya in the wee hours. Thats when you know its been a good day.
SUNDAY was the chaos. My mom showed up early to take Irene to a wedding shower and I ran to find B, in his new toupee ready to play some guitars. Before that, we talked music, mostly about Stevie Nicks, Genesis and the Police reunion, and the asshole Stewart Copeland and I declared my new revelation that Sting is a "douchbag with no sleeves". We squeezed a few hours and a beer out of that before I had to race my ass BACK to the city to meet DeSanto Senior to polish off some wine and prociotto at Bar Jamon while we waited for the ladies to return. They returned, and off to Les Halles for a fine meal. And here we are.
That Just Happened.
F
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