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Miss Independent
Walking to the subway this morning I thought, ‘Where the hell is everyone? Starbucks was empty. There were vacant parking spaces on 80th Street. The subway platform was empty, save for a family of — judging by their struggle with the turnstile — tourists. There was wiggle room on the 1/9. Times Square was deserted.…
Read MoreRed Headed Angel
I had cold pizza and warm Coke for breakfast. I blame Amy Hills. She rolled over, nudged me and said — I’m only kidding. The best part of Tuesday night’s show was performing with Amy. As someone observed afterwards, “You seemed a little bit looser.” A little bit looser? Suddenly I was Don Rickles and…
Read MoreLife And How To Live It
I was like a dear in headlights. Worse, I was like a baby deer in headlights. Not that anyone would have noticed. It starts as kind of an upset stomach. Classic butterflies. Or pterodactyls. Then I get a little giddy, a little unfocussed. I’d rather be a lone, but I’m meeting and greeting. I talk…
Read MoreHarder To Believe
The little things aren’t working anymore. Not the turkey burger, the ice cream, the quiet night in front of the television. Nothing. Yesterday was a bit of a soul crusher. I don’t usually loath Mondays. I get up pretty quickly most mornings. I like what I do. But I just didn’t have it yesterday. I…
Read MoreHappy Kids
Where I come from, we call ’em Christmas lights. In New York City in July, they call ’em patio lights. As far as I’m concerned, a New York City roof deck is incomplete without ’em. I struck out early Saturday morning for a few strands. Gracious Home, Urban Outfitters, and a handful of local hardware…
Read MoreUntitled
I’m on the phone interviewing one of my heroes, Cameron Crowe, when my MiniDisc’s battery dies. I don’t have to tell you why I love this guy. He’s everything I want to be: a great writer, a great fan of music, and a great filmmaker. With more heart than most. He tops my very short…
Read MoreStill
My ass is sore, and it ain’t from runnin’. I spent about twelve hours parked on my ass Sunday. Jon and I left the vineyard around noon. I had about all the communism and community I could handle. I wanted some quiet time before flying home. “When’s your flight?” they asked. “In a minute,” I…
Read MoreFade Into You
It didn’t take long to regret lobbying so heavily for a pre-wedding run. I was the first to change into running shorts. I thought it might motivate the others. Eventually, amidst the place setting, flower arranging, and chuppa building, Matt, his brother Marc, and friend Daniel (aka “B Love”) readied themselves for a few miles…
Read MoreNaive Melody
The Russian River meets the Pacific Ocean about sixty miles northwest of San Francisco. There, the great rolling hills of Sonoma meet the sharp, evergreen-strewn shoreline. I turned right at the sea, heading further still from anything resembling anything that had come before. I arrived SFO bleary from a late night as the first guest…
Read MoreIn Your Honour
Many roads led to the marriage of Matthew Tousignant and Sarah Fishkin there amongst the redwood and pine of Sonoma County. I met Matthew D. Tousignant on his first day at Conestoga Senior High School in Berwyn, PA. We were juniors. Our guidance councilor asked me (the student council brownie hound that I was) to…
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