Rockaway Beach Or Bust
I've lived in New York City for nearly fifteen years, but have only recently begun to gain some sense of its true cultural and geographical diversity.
Once again, I spent Sunday morning running the city. Last week, my goal was Hell's Kitchen to Coney Island. This week, it was Rockaway Beach or bust. Our friends, Rene and Marlyn had invited Chris, Meg, Abbi and I to join them for an afternoon of sun, and sand and salsa. The goal, then, was to jog some eighteen miles through Manhattan and Queens to their apartment where Chris, Meg and ...
Halfway Between The Moon & Me
Lately, it seems like I go weeks without picking up my guitar. Not so these days.
On Thursday night at nine o'clock, Chris Abad, Tony Maceli, Ryan Vaughn and I return to Rockwood Music Hall to perform our first prime-time, full-band, full-on rock show in months.
Thursday's set has at least one major surprise (hint: it's a song named after a state), and an excellent special guest: singer/songwriter Emily Zuzick. Last time Emily and I shared a stage, we were belting out Duran Duran's "Rio" at a smokey, steamy Syracuse University house ...
Home Is Where Your Friends Are
God bless The Nadas.
First they ask me to contribute a song to their "Crystalline" project, a compilation of Authentic Records' artists covering The Nadas in honor of the band's fifteenth anniversary.
So I recorded a bang-up version of "Feel Like Home" with Chris, Jamie and Tony a few weeks ago which Jon Locker (sustaining emails like, "In the breakdown section, can you compress the drums like in original or breakdown in "trying to tell you" to provide more dramatic change?") mixed last week.
Then they ask me to play the Authentic ...
The 2009 Brickyard 400 (Or, Speedway Nights: The Ballad Of Jimmie Johnson)
First rule of Nascar is you don't talk about Nascar.
It's not that facts, statistics, cultural judgments, stereotypes or general biographical data aren't valuable. They are.
Of course (like you), I knew nothing of Nascar until last year's Brickyard 400. This (now seasonal) confab was born of a conversation at my bachelor party and the desire to a) in Indianapolis (a city, sorry dad, with few other event-oriented justifications for visitation) and b) spend more time with dudes.
Before last year, I couldn't fathom why someone would sit ...
Strong Island
When I went there, anyway, ninety percent of Syracuse University students were from New Jersey, New York City ("The City," as they presumptuously called it), or Long Island.
Now, by 1989, I'd been to New York City to see a few Broadway plays, which -- coming from suburban Philadelphia -- meant I'd at least been through New Jersey, but I didn't know a thing about Long Island (which didn't prohibit me from making out with a black-haired, red-nailed, gum-popping beauty on my first night at college, but that's a different story for a ...
Surrender
By the time I finally powered up my PC precisely 267 hours after logging off for vacation, I'd accrued 1887 emails, 19 voice mails, and 12 Facebook requests.
Four hours later, I'd whittled down those various missives to a crucial total of thirty-two.
Yesterday morning, less than twelve hours after my eight hour GCM-MIA-LGA commute, I strapped on my Asics to shake off the stiffness (and post-vaca blues) with a quick pre-brunch 10k. From Riverside Park to The Ramble, everywhere I ran, everyone was looking at their hands. Blackberries, ...
Los Ochos Locos Internacional (Edición Azucar)
After a week there, I can confidently report that Grand Cayman is as the brochure promises: endless miles of white sand beaches, tranquil, turquoise waters, and limitless sun.
It's a Caribbean playground: swimming, snorkeling, sailing, scuba diving, and jet skiing all fueled by delicious, home-brewed rum.
Abbi and I scuba dove eight times, logging nearly five hours at depths of up to one hundred feet at sites like Princess Penny's Pinnacle, Sand Chute and Tarpon Alley (more on that later).
We walked and ran Seven Mile Beach, ...
Grand Cayman (Summer 2009)
June 14th, 2009
One Grand
Last October, Abbi and I planned to spend our one-year anniversary in Nevis.
Then, within a span twenty-four hours, I was informed that I'd be inheriting leadership of the news department, but not before I had my appendix removed. Suffice to say, we reluctantly canceled the trip.
Fast forward eight months.
It's been a doozie of a time (as you know, Dear Reader), one punctuated by great challenges, frustrations and rewards at work. Last week's Movie Awards were the first of two uber-events (the Video Music Awards are in three ...
Big Yellow Taxi
I was out cold well prior to AA#118's takeoff, which made waking up over Eastern Ohio with Anthony Michael Hall seated just a few seats away all the more jarring.
We landed around five o'clock. It was pouring rain at JFK, which (after a week of 70° hegemony) seemed appropriate. My Town Car (#007, natch) was waiting at Passenger Pickup C. We raced to the Van Wyck Expressway where we immediately slowed to a crawl.
An hour of Blackberry and iPod action later, my driver dropped me at a six o'clock appointment on the Upper East. I ...
