The End of Rents, Eighty, and Apartment…

Monday was the Rents’ last day. So they took us out for dinner at Punch with the Sis.

Surprise guest was the glorious Ana Maria.

And Phoebe’s necklace.

Which I gave a whirl.

Then came Phoebe’s goodbye.

And mine. Good Bye Rents!

Tuesday John and I checked out Angus’ new place on the upper east.

We played some poker, which Angus took once I lost stupidly and John got bored.

Wednesday I made quick stop at John’s, taking what is arguably one of the best elevator picts yet (through the mirror).

And I caught my most favorite time.

Friday I got a bit depressed, so I just kinda stayed in the office killing time, while Jenna went on a date with her pal Keri.

Then they came back and Jenna and I went to see the weirdest movie ever: Live Freakly Die Freakly. A claymation retelling of the Manson Murders voiced by pop punk band members.. I fell asleep for most of it.

Saturday, poker once again returned to the upper west enclave, after a long hiatus. Everybody won except me.

And Alison, she lost like twenty, but I went down eighty. And yes, I got a bit unlucky, but mostly, I just played bad. It sucked some major hairy ass.

But the night would not end on that down note, for the quintet at 440 6th Street threw an empty nest party. Liz demonstrates the emptyness.

All the allstars showed up. Ruty, Matty, and Thayer.

The Hostess with the Leastess (amount of stuff at his place).

And Aaron busted out the big news, he just might become a homeowner. A HOMEOWNER! Jesus how old are we? I am still, to this very moment as type this, aghast, flabbergasted even.

Then Howard and Carolina gave me a free psychologist session and snapped me back to more regularness.

Claire, too, might be a homeowner. I still can’t get it through my skull.

At least Noah is still old stylish Noah.

Then more shocking news. Carolina is married! Married! I tried to take a photo of my amazement, and all 4 came out fuzzy, how annoying.

Derek then regaled me with his dealing and getting somewhat fired at Hank Azaria’s poker game.

And The Only Smith broke down his movement to bella Roma.

While the newly met Steffan and I both discoursed our love of Confederacy of Dunces, and may Lady Fortuna shine on us both.

At the end, Nat told of almost dying in Bulgaria of an appendix issue.

Matt said goodbye.

And I finally got to almost talk to Althea.

Sunday Jenna had a classic date night. We checked out Tristam Shandy, which I thought was quite good, and then had some Italian.

At La Fenice.

Not a bad way to spend a week, N'est-ce pas?

Testament To Cake And Random Play…

Wednesday we chilled it upper east.

And I got on to John’s Last will and testiment, taking the oriental
rug. I think I should have gone for the Amsterdam portrait of me, but
the rug is pretty fucking awesome.

And Friday, damn if the whole world didn’t converge on me. It was like
a convention of surprise visits. Hicks came in for one night.

So we played some pool and caught up on old itmes.

Then two kids, Stackpole and Moore came back to the old roost for pat lavin’s concert.

But I couldn’t really hang out with any of them, cause Jenna had got me Cake tickets for xmass.

And they fucking rocked. Office chaps made fun of me all day, but fuck
all of you, I like Cake. And they put on a damn good show.

Mcdonald’s afterword hit the spot.

Even though this guy was having a full on conversation with himself.

Saturday I had to work all fucking day, and it sucked, but on the way
home, quelle surprise! John Frosh, just walking on the street, on break
from France. I love NY coincidences.

Sunday more work, but I escaped to go see a play with the rents and the jet setters.

The Citizens presented “Nobody’s Lunch.” It had some good points, and
was directed very well, with good humor. Of course I snapped one of the
stars and the director.

And we ended the night with some good dessert eatins at PJ Clarks.

Nice.

A Lexus Projector…

Tuesday I went to the Super Elegante record release party, which was
all put together by cate alum Alexis, here pictured with the elder
Ryang James.

Patrick and the younger Ryang made it out as well.

And this ipod was just chilling on the drum set.

These two kids were just randomly snapping pictures, so I got a picture with them.

And then we heard a song, which was all right.

Wednesday I hit the Chinatown studio for some screen snaps.

John got slightly hammered.

And I went warm and fuzzy.

We did some multimedia shots as well.

And had to bust out the ronan p. nagle invented floor picture.
 

Fuck yeah.

You should also maybe take a look at a preliminary go at entrepeneurship: Mr T Cuts Down Trees.

Reel Mill Ante Meth Clap…

Tuesday, I got a call from the jetset couple. Sam needed a reel for his
acting giveaway package. And so, without thought of limb or extremity,
I cut away and made Sam look pretty good. If they let me, I might even
post the montage.

Then the very next day the PS crew went down to swanky effects house the Mill.

We entered the famous soho elevator.

Where me and Jenna were found out.

By the receptionist closed circuit cam.

We just loved their infinite sushi platter and peach martinis.

And I chatted with flame artist Dave, who way back in august first introduced me to Clap Your Hands And Say Yeah.

Belated Xmass parties always put me in a good mood.

Thursday small poker went down at John’s.

Random Pat showed up, a guy I met once and who played with us a few times. What a hoot.

I played calm and steady, slowly rollercoasting towards twenty bucks.
John lost and lost and lost. Cassesns slowly became the big monster.
Pat bought in once. Then towards the end, john took out Nick , who
cursed the poker gods yet again (he only lost ten though), to make back
a good chunk of his money. And I made a major move against Cassens,
going up to thirty-five. But I stayed in with King Ten, hit my top
pair, and got perfectly goaded by john “I guarantee I have you beat” to
go all in and lose it all to his trips, letting john buy himself out
right in the end to come out forty on top. I too curse them pokah gods,
though I too, lost only ten.

Friday, work dropped the bomb. Thirty six hours of Meth users footage
for six PSA and a Documentary. Oh shit, my next two months might just
be crazy.

At the end of the day, Jenna and I went out to Punch, where I had a sublime sesame seared tuna.

And jenna showed off her old-man-eye-catching triangle.

And finally, Saturday, after loading 12 hours of Meth, Jennifer Jenna
and I went to Tonic to check out Michael Leviton and Alec Ounsworth.

Michael Rocked it, as always.

But the real deal was Alec’s (lead singer of Clap Your Hands) other band.

Which included the coolest pregnant drummer I have ever seen.

Alec got snapped all moody and dark.

And the chill guitarist just kept it chill.

Laterz.

Movie Pong, Eggs, Investment Strings, and Chinatown Subway Art...

Friday night I tasted the sweet delicious plentitude of Domino’s 5 5 5 deal.

With Murray,  Rodrigo, and Maria.

We wanted to do a Syriana Munich double feature, but didn’t prebuy so
went back and played some pong. I had the best record with a 2-1,
almost pulling off the undefeated but losing in the last game to Garza.

Then we saw Munich which I mostly enjoyed, maybe didn’t need the final
sex scene, but its themes of home always being worth fighting for and
asking when an eye for an eye will ever end are sound. I also took 18
pictures of myself of which this was the best.

Sunday morning I ate at the fully packed diner with Jenna.

And had my first Omelet ever. (there is a chance I had a bite of one
back on Oak St. at wes, but memories are murky and won’t hold up at
court). It was too fluffy.

Sunday night we chilled with rope.

I took most of Nick’s money, only to lose it to John in a quick tourney.

And I purchased this original John Mclane. What would you pay for it?

Monday I visited Nick’s apartment for the first time, down in his chillin’ Chinatown digs.

His cousin drew and Nate watched a little basquiat action with us.

And the mom-cookie-giftpack became unearthed.

John drew a portrait of me on the 4 train.

And lord knows every post should be lucky enough to end with elevator picts.

Before, The End, and More…

Well before I left for Sunny Cali, New York had a transit strike! I
know its old news, but I just need to blog it a bit. Look, News
camera’s down my block on 96th, it’s local correspondent Gary Anthony Ramses.

And this is me sharing a cab with three strangers (front row girl obviously not pictured).

And in big news, i have now opened my new art gallery. Yes, a place to
gather all the photodrawings I'm working on, and they're all big enough
to click on. Please check it out: Galeria Follada.

Later, after the break, I met John’s infamous Rene.

Who stopped by while John showed me his new Katz portrait.

And of course, then came The End Of The Year As We Know It. Jenna modeled some outfits.

I put on a nice shirt.

And we headed off to Chez Charlotte, who was throwing a big bash for the Last Days.

Party.

Champange.

Becky and her Brother Steve.

Random people.

Absynthe.

Cool dresses and vests.

I rocked my new kick ass Hot Pink Monsters.

The First Kiss Of The Year.

Drunk girl passing out.

Drunk couple.

Drunk couple kissing (I HATE YOU BLURRY PICS!)

The ride home with no gastronomic surprise, thank yaweh.

And So, Good Night, 2005.

Good Night.