And The Band Played On…

Friday I could have gone to poker, but instead hit the lower east side musical circuit.

Seems So Bright was to perform at Rothkos. The lineup includes one Patrick Lavin, graphics magician that works at our sister company Brandname.

Look at him rock that shit. After the slightly technically difficult set, I caught him in all his sweaty magnificence.

I had some time to kill before my next stop so I stayed for the rest of the bands, and damn if I wasn’t glad I did, because I got blown away,

Lucy (the band name as well as their frontlady’s) has a good Yeah Yeah Yeahs like sound. She has to work on the consistency of her vocals, but that will come with more performing. What she needs no practice on is performance, quite mesmorizing, just a presence I could not keep my eyes off.

Lucy, you rock (Oh my god, I'm a... a... groupie).

So I said good bye to Pat and his girl Natalie.

And went off to Fiasco’s last Delancy show of the month, just blocks away, and who do I spot, on their way as well but SaraCat (sp!).

With sexy shoulder and witch pointed shoes.

Rutty Rutkoff and Liz also made the show.

You recognize anyone here?

Do you recognize that fiasco rocked?

You better. I mean, you BETTER recognize.

They did. (or did they who can tell these days?).

Post show I had to compliment and snap frontman Grant.

And photographer extraordinaire Siege.

Who has the world’s hottest blog, or so i hear. He advises to be ware of reverse mohawks on nights where you plan to attend the emergency room. (i might pull the reverse hitler on my stash.)

So we left, a big group that only got bigger as we added Thayer.

Michael and Leah.

And Derek.

(obviously pictured later). Check us all out.

Milling about waiting for the executive to get us to the next place. We had to maneuver lots of variables, LA LA living Kevin Cornish was in town, and he had to mobilize his crew… it’s a wonder how the world keeps spinning.

Look!

Random on the street sighting of company shirt on Robert Hooman, who freelanced for a bit.

Finally we settled on a not crowded unknown bar.

And Kev did show up.

So did Nat.

Leah and I conversed over the blog,

and sure enough, here is my allusion to that conversation.

Wow.

A picture with me in it that I did not take. Imagine that.

It could be misconstrued that kev and claire were kissing in this shot.

but they were not.

And see this guy.

I like the cut of his jib. Or so some random quoted, and Aaron demanded it be included in the post.

Who’s hungry?

We were so we hit San Loco for some delicious Guaco Tacos.

Then back to darkroom.

For the last call action.

And, back to San Loco.

To end the goings out happy and extra full.

Phew! That was a fucking night. And quite a post. I’m done.

Soccer and Dali…

We lost again on Tuesday against the second best team. We held them at the half only down by one, and I had this great chance to score but miffed it, and then we fell apart at the end and got massively scored on.

It sucks. But playing keeps me in good spirits.

And I know I already covered my crazy stash antics,

But its getting worse and worse everyday.

When The Past Googles You…

So out of nowhere Charlotte gives me a call saying some random called her up asking her for my number. Before giving it to him, she thought it might be a bit sketchy, so asked for his number instead, but he wanted it to be a surprise so he would not disclose his name.

It’s a mexico number. Now, most people in mexico above the poverty line have maids, so if I call without knowing who called me it could get awkward, but a guy answered so I knew I had it.

Hay alguien ahi que conoce a Dustin Stephens? Someone there that knows Dustin Stephens?

He’s like, guess who this is? We used to sit in art class and draw Christie Brinkley, when we played soccer I used yell obscenities at you. Dude, c’mon, I played lunch soccer throughout primary school. But I guess, Cesar Hank, a friend who had called me up out of the blue five years ago when he found my number. Nope. Iker, Vicente, Manolo… he doesn’t say anything, and I start to lose relevant guesses. Isidoro Sarfati? Well he says, you already guessed but not fully.

And I’m like, hey if I already got it you gotta tell me. Well Vicente it is, and it took me a bit to get the last name but I pulled it out of the depths of my memory: Vicente Licona. He googled my ass, after he had found that Trey Tepichin was at Harvard law with his Georgetown sweetheart, yet another ASF (American School Foundation) alumni, and one getting married soon. (Watch out for that name, he might be president soon enough, I kid you not).

So we catch up, and it’s a trip to hear what all these people have been up to. Who works with their dad, who’s gay, who dropped off the face of the earth like me.

And im like, bitch, you found me off the blog, you better be sending me a picture so you can be on it. With out further ado, I give you the blast from the past.

Vicente Licona, y novia Claudia.

Ain’t the webernet wondrous?

The Wonderful World of Web…

(no photos, but please read, its well worth it).

A few different strings to tie here. First, Cielo, if you go back to the posting of April 19th, the link to the whole MattSam birthday night is now up, sans homoerotic ending, so enjoy.

Next, I have a confession to make. I am obsessed with this anonymous confession site, notproud. It’s awesome, you should most def check it out. I started only reading the miscellaneous, but then moved on to lust, where shit goes down hotter than penthouse forum. And I realized something after reading a few thousand, that a whole generation of people was actually getting it on off the interweb. Well, I decided to throw myself out there as well.

I went headstrong into Craig’s List and put up a casual encounter, (my email got fucked up and I lost a whole bunch of incredible messages so I will try to recreate as best I can), that went something like this:

24m seeks w. im young slimish and okay looking, looking to have fun with similar girl in the upper west side. Pictures will probably have to be exchanged.

Wow, there I go, right into the thick of getting it on with strangers. Well, the one and only response came:

Hi. Into rape role play? Im 24 brn/ grn 5’4 130 lbs. Can I call you? Vicki.

That’s fucking right folks, first time up to bat and I get rape role play. Damn. But I was unconvinced, this sounded too much like a guy fucking with me. So I responded:

Nope, never done that, but I’ll try anything once, though I don’t know how good it will be, I might not be rough enough for you. And, im not ready to give you my number for fear that you’re some bastard guy who is going to give it out.

Yeah, I called him on it. But she/he? responded in turn.

You’ll see im all woman soon enough. Hope to talk to you soon so you can rape me. Vicki.

Damn. That’s what I get for interdating. Serves me right I guess.

Why Is This Night Unlike Any Other Night…

Seder time baby, Seder!

I came late because… well because I pulled a maneuver I thought I was well beyond, taking the wrong train on a two way track. I even missed three trains because I waited for the uptown side to come. Jesus, what a fucking amateur. Anyway, late as i was, i brought nothing and had to go down the block to get some wine, only to run into…

Kelly Shunk (sp?), another Wes 02 grad randomly met and snapped. The world gets smaller everyday.

Back at the homestead, the amazing cooks finished some of the details.

Outfits busted out.

(and before you sexism Nazis jump, althea demanded to be cut off at the head, for some weird reason, and then I just kept the theme with “cake” Olivia). And please notice the seersucker pants on MattSam, who gets the most stylish award.

Wine?

Check.

People waiting in anticipation?

Check.

Beautifully set table?

Check.

Wonderful people to fill it with?

Check.

So lets eat!

Wait, did anyone remember the instructions?

Why yes, Maxwell coffee did. Thanks guys.

So for you non chosen folk, whats really going on here (asks the Jew loving Shiksa)?

This is Pesach, the night we remember the Jewish exodus out of Egypt. We’ve all seen The Ten Commandments, right? That’s half the battle.

Because the Jews had to just pack their shit and get the fuck out of Nile dodge, there was no time to let the bread rise, so on this day, no leaven bread can be eaten. So started the most myth-laden cracker of all.

Matzoh!

So we all sit and eat, right?

Wrong. Seder’s differ from the very long and intense, to the more blasé and fun. We had one of the latter. Before eating, plenty of rituals must take place.

The Seder plate is a good cheat sheet guide.

You’ve got drinking.

Eating bitter herbs, salted (the tears of the slaves).

Drinking.

Talking about why we remember this night, fearless leader Aaron keeping us in line.

Singing.

Concept not too photographically tangible. (I know, reusing lines, but life is cycles baby, circles round the sun. Ritual… get it?).

Eating bitter herbs, again.

Not in the nose, Noah! Geez. These silly goy.

Sure enough, a small wine disaster took place.

But we rolled with it, like the 5000 years of disasters previous.

More wine, more singing, more explaining away the Talmudic relevance of night and day, and then my favorite, the remembrance of the plagues.

[Look at matzoh picture, please]

One drop of wine for each, taking away some happiness to remember that Yaweh did kill the entire Egyptian army. Wow, after all that slavery, after they chased us out, we still have to feel bad (I know, seven tiny drops isn’t that bad). And I will also mention Rutkoff’s favorite part, that even if this happened ages ago, we all must remember being slaves for a day, and that we all are still fighting this horrible bondage. Today we are all slaves, it isn’t something that just happened and we can move on from.

(and even if I have met many many Jews that are just as racist as any KKK member, it still feels good the one of the holiest days of the religious calendar makes a point of remembering the poor souls that were just following orders, and that if anyone is a slave, we all are).

More singing, drinking, explaining. Then, finally, some eating, the, shit I don’t remember the name, fruits and berry’s paste (the sustanence in the desert?)

And then the meal proper.

Jesus the cooks treated us nice. Brisket, geffiltafish, chicken, kugel, broccoli, salad, soup. A feast for kings, for chosen people even.

Mmmnnnn. Delicious, Everyone agrees.

The rituals don’t end there. We still have to find the Afikonen, the special matzoh piece, sing some more, pray, and toast.

Next year in Jerusalem!

And the food does not stop there either. Dessert Bitches!

Dessert! But that looks like levened bread, you say?

Nope, those are matzoh based delicacies.

After all that food and all that wine,

Chillin’ chillin’ cha-zill-ing.

Sleeping?

Cleaning?

Nah. Just more chillin’

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.

Good food, good friends, good mother fuckin’ times.

Hosts (and cooks)

Thank you so much.

Happy Pesach!

Friday Work Peeps…

Yes, the fake boobies came back into play.

Only on me they look like saggy grandma titties.

It was a slow day, so we hit some margaritas early, and then went out.

Look at that snowman lipstick.

We hit lorelei, a german beer garten.

And talked about early sexual espiriences.

Like the time before I knew the word orgasm, and I would call them shockwaves.

We wondered what this table over here did.

So I went and asked. We thought it would be one common thing, but it was scattered, teachers mailmen, analysts, PR.

I love NY.

After Lorelei, which I realized I had already been to for Jesse’s Birthday (link later, maybe) Jenna and I hit madam x.

Because John Hect was having a private party upstairs. I didn’t really know Hect, so I was waiting to see other soccer kids there I knew, but they were not to be see.

But then I realized I had been to this fucking bar as well. It had a little cubby hole that looked cool, unpictured because it was taken.

Good times, though.

VICTOIRE…

We fucking won. Oh yeah. Orson had to step up as Goalie since Noah broke his nose.

This winning thing, it just tastes so good.

Lago played the game of his lifetime, scoring like five goals. Eldjin did not boot it from the half after a we got scored on, not even once. Jeff and John were not expelled. We passed better. We finished. They had an own goal, it ended up being the difference as they pushed hard at the end to squeeze our lead of four to one. That guys having nightmares.

And yes, I scored. Quick break from the defense, Katz eyed me running up towards the corner and sent the ball deep. Too deep, it went over my head, but this is indoor and it just bounced off the wall right at me and I baffled the goalie with a one timer right past his silly little face.

(ive waited three weeks to be this derisive, so sue me.)

Angus, you so scary.

Quickie…

So I took allot of picts on Saturday, but didn’t post all of them, until now. Take a peek, its fast. The B Day.

I know the music is a bit sad for the occasion, but I love the chorus so whatevs.

It Was Indeed a Sun Day…

Good weather in the day doesn’t always mean a hot night, so I rocked the tied shirt, something not seen since circa 95.

John went with the self designed kimono.

The dorms of the mid twenties.

The pigs totally blocked the crosswalk on their red.

Then two on two soccer with Pavel.

Which I did not dress for. I played in jeans and died mid way through so we got beat 10-6. We had a chance at first to five.

John and I were going to hit Saigon Grill East, but spotted this when I could not remember the exact block and decided to give a new place a try. Sala thai.

A bit more hoity-toity than what we needed, but quite tasty. (terrible art on the wall, I must add).

Cool building.

Cab time.

Because Kung Fu Hustled beckoned us.

I liked it. A very unique and creative take to the martial arts master character.

Oh yeah, we went there.

It seems like Saturday Birthday Double Bookings are now a Norm…

A day that begins with a fake-nipple tweaking session can only go up.

After poker I went to party One, but caught the crazy sculpturist Damon Hamm in a sketchy middle of 14th street snap.

So I go to The Central Bar on 9th for Mallika’s birthday, only to find 40 people in line trying to get past the Cerberus English prick bouncers with lists and eyes only for girls.

Had to call Mallika, tell her to come down, cause there was no way im getting past the line.

Happy Birthday!

That fucking English prick almost didn’t let Mallika back in because she tried to sneak me passed.

So off to Matt Sam’s shindig.

Happy Birthday!

Peeps showed up en force.

Bringing out devious looks.

Bored facets (sp!).

And hip kids on the go.

What did you call me?

Althea didn’t like my devilish goatee points, but I did not support her arresting adventures.

Carla stepped into the scene (al, put that tongue away).

With her snazzy coat.

Joey had me reshoot so he could get the angle in.

But I like the straight on better. What do you think?

This couple would not stop making out.

Oooooh Snapped.

A toast for 26! (Flipped bird and all).

The end of the mid twenties.

Ha, we’re not there yet.

Well, some of us are.

Coarly’s got overcooked, so we moved it to Lucy’s, to face our demon.

The Lord of the Rings Pinball. Again. (life is cycles).

A different scene. Random Snapfest oh five.

Profiles.

Flowers.

Happiness.

Love.

Then sinem pulled the smooth line.

I shot this as a random, and as she left she handed me her card “so we could maybe lose the random.” Damn. That’s not smooth, that’s fucking smoof.

I am the king of the cab shot.

26 years and nine months ago, two people made some sweet sweet love, and today we celebrate the repercussion.