Independent Subway.

So, there's that.



Thanks as always to the fantastic, riveting and always gut-wrenching PostSecret. Buy their books.

Damp.

The Daft Punk concert here in NYC involved a text message from my pal Kloke stating: "Let's concoct a rum-soaked scheme". It may well be the best text message I ever got. Enjoy this cool widget to check what's up with their upcoming album release. You must supply your own rum, however.

Mistakes Were Made.

Just a quick note, if you meant to get Chromeo tickets and didn't you suck. The show is sold out now and it's their only US performance for a while, so...allow me to electronically taunt you with this link to the always happening Brooklyn Vegan.

Unless you happen to live in the UK or Canada, you snoozed and you lose-ed. I'm mostly sorry you won't be there in person to see myself and 4 close friends dressed up as none other than the Spice Girls. Oh yes, indeed. It's ON.

My Girl Is Callin' Me A Liar.

Oh there are plans afoot for the Halloween week, mon amis. And they involve my fellow Columbia Graduate School pals. Yes, that's right, the funky funky Montreal meets NYC sounds of CHROMEO. I described them as such in a recent email: ...if you can imagine Keith Sweat had sex with Hall & Oates and invited Morris Day & The Time to come join, you'll get an idea of the musical stylings they provide.

Seriously, do yourself a fucking favor. Check out their upcoming super fun gig. Myself and a passel of my super dope accomplices will be there dancing, groping and talkin' all raw. I mean, I'm not inviting YOU per se- but you're more than welcome to come stare at us from across the venue and wish you were you know, like, cool enough to have been invited and all. Ain't no thang.

Click here for info and the like. Here's the fine print:

NY Mag Sponsors:




Ok, bye now.

Rocking Massive.

New obsession, thanks to late night Sundance Channel viewing, has been decreed. It's Shameless, a British comedy-drama series that's in its 5th season. If only I had a DVD player capable of decoding regions (or the true graso of what the fuck that even means) I'd be thrilled to but all the prior DVDs but as it is, I shall have to suffer thru watching the early episodes bit by bit here. What's so alluring about the show to me is, that it's not escapism in any way- it documents estate life in Manchester- (sort of like being in the projects in Bensonhurst, if I'm to give my perhaps flawed idea of the class and the specific accent particular region). It's filmed in a really cool style, and the laughs in it are not kooky cut ups ala My Name Is Earl. The things that take place on the show and in the episodes are things that break your heart and make you laugh-like having a drunk parent that can't hold down a job and gets dropped off at your apartment by the cops after passing out and pissing his pants on a regular basis. OK, I find that funny, get fucked if you don't.

If you get a chance, check it out. It's something really special. Kind of reminds me of my briefly held, Summer of 1995 obsession with Neighbours and EastEnders, but with humor allowed in.

On that note, can someone with British citizenship marry me already? I mean, really.

Come On And Meet Me At The Rally.

Porter sent me this video and I about died of joy. Please do yourself the service of watching it this very instant.

The Big(gest) Break Up.

This past week, I had to leave one of the best relationships of my life. And I'm none too pleased about it. There was nothing I could do about it, nothing that could save it. I am, for lack of a better term, heartbroken.

Every day, there are moments of sheer despair where I realize- Oh my god. It's really, truly over. Lines were crossed, and there's no going back when that happens.

It's terrifying, not having the safety & security that I did before, but everything happens for a reason, and I just have to be open to that. I know this will get easier and the pain will pass...but until then, it sucks.

Let me say once and for all and on the record: I love you, Smoking. I will always love you. And I'm so sorry things had to end this way. But you and I were just not meant to be anymore. So go. Go forth and make all those cups of coffee, and debacherous drunken dance nights, and hungover awkward mornings with new, semi-nude friends all so much more vibrant. Just, no- don't say anything, just go.

Here's to a good run, kid.