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It wasn’t until somewhere around Christopher Street that I realized that Thursday night’s Rockwood Music Hall set was littered with references to breaking silence, speaking up and being heard. From “Giving Up The Ghost” (“It’s impossible to argue / It’s impossible to scream”) to “Live Forever” (“There’s nothing left here to say”), “St. Anne (Of…

Say what you will about what Justin Timberlake’s done for the sport, golf still isn’t very rock ‘n roll. I play once a year nonetheless, always with my father. Perhaps its the long walk, or the inherent futility of knocking that tiny ball all that way into that tiny hole, but the sport is rife…

It was a strange rehearsal. But then, it’s been a strange gig from he outset. I booked this Thursday’s Rockwood Music Hall performance months ago, but didn’t mention it to the guy’s until a few weeks ago; I wasn’t sure how to approach it (solo, acoustic, electric, etc), I just knew I wanted to get…

Saturday morning’s slate-gray, wind-whipped bluster was an angry, Joycean tempest fit solely for hours indoors with tea and sympathy. Abbi and I braved the elements nonetheless, striking out through the icey, soggy streets to yoga at Exhale on Central Park South. Arriving waterlogged was rich irony, as our instructor, Kirtan, and I had conspired to…

These days, it takes me about one minute to tell people that Abbi and I are expecting. Take last night for example. I walked out of my office around nine o’clock. The building was nearly empty, so my elevator went express. When the doors opened 29 floors below, I bumped into a familiar colleague. I…

My brother, Christofer, called Sunday morning. “Dude, is there any way you can watch the boys this afternoon?” he asked breathlessly. Jen took Ella to the hospital. I’m running up there to meet her.” My pointer finger was on their Upper West Side buzzer fifteen minutes later. I could hear Ethan and Edward’s tiny feet…