Archive for December 2003
Anna, Sincerely
It’s New Year’s Eve. I’m gazing down on Times Square, looking back over the year. Coupla’ post scripts before it ends: I had a brainstorm the other afternoon. I want to release a double CD in 2004: AM/PM. See, for some reason I write most of my songs in the morning. Probably because my frontal…
Read MoreDown The Rabbit Hole
Ho. Lee. Shit. Last night was one for the record books. I mean, it’s Tuesday afternoon and I’m barely moving… It started innocently enough. I stopped into work for a minute, ate a salad in Bryant Park in the sunshine, then went to Lord of the Rings (very very long). My brother came over after…
Read MoreUntitled No. 2
I’m home in New York following a 24 hour sojourn to my hometown of Valley Forge, Pennsylvania. I have the week off. It’s my first full week off in New York City since I moved here in 1995. I’m not entirely sure what to do with it, as spending it at The Dead Poet is…
Read MoreGood Morning, Future
I woke from the most excellent dream this morning (and not the one where I narrowly escaped a French Communist assassin’s bullet, appeared on CNN, then had beers with Frank Sinatra)… It was the future. The world was a construct of The Company, an oppressive technocracy that synthesized and mediated everything. Nothing was real, but…
Read MorePunch Drunk
So this is Christmas… And what have you done? Another year over. A new one just begun… Last night, I dreamt in slow motion. I moved like I was on the moon, floating weightless through a florescent-lit grocery store, bouncing and gliding effortlessly through the aisles. I woke up and began cleaning a month’s-worth of…
Read MoreWhat Hope Looks Like
I saw Santa crossing Eighth Avenue yesterday afternoon. Then again on 23d & Park last night. That dude is everywhere. I spent last night in the fine company of Kevin Anthony recording my annual Christmas single: “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).” We had a ball throwing back the ‘nog and working out harmonies. And while…
Read MoreMy Life So Far
It took me just under three hours this morning to tire of New York at Christmas: the music, the tourists, the traffic, the lines. Still, I spent the past 24 hours exactly as I’d dreamed of all those hours in the Rent-a-Taurus: movies and sleep. Plus I got a cool pair of $20 sneakers. I…
Read MoreThis Fever-Dream Illness
I choked down a teaspoon of Promethazine, one Miraphen, two Advil, and a One-A-Day For Men, washed it all down with a Gray Goose, tonic and lime, then raced out the door, down the steps, and onto the street. My breath slipped over my shoulder, behind me, and up into the night. It was the…
Read MoreBethesda, Angel Of The Waters
In my fever-dreams, I keep returning to her: Bethesda, the Angel of the Waters. She is one of my first memories of New York. I was about 13-years-old. It was a perfect fall day: half-sun, changing leaves. I was walking through Central Park with friends, wide-eyed that such beauty could exist in the middle of…
Read MoreBronchitis, My Doctor Tells Me
It was inevitable: I’m sick. I have a bone-rattling cough, fever-dream night-sweats, the sorest of throats, and lungs that feel as though they’ve been scraped with a rusty fork. Some may say I deserve it for all the good fortune of late. I say: please kill me. This illness — bronchitis, my doctor tells me…
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