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,…

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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:…

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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…

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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…

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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,…

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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…

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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…

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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)…

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