Amon Barfs Up Dog Food Into A Sweat Sock

miss him

Yuula=2

Well, that's the best picture I took of Yuula at her birthday party. Thank goodness that everyone else had their cameras in capable hands. Most of what I remember was fluff and beer, and that's a party to me!

the sign artistically altered early on

Dylan got in some last minute reps

cousins

important to remember, next year, the kids just want ice

guess which I ate first

there were old people

and RxHS

this girl had fun

II

2

for real

gathered in song

the real surprise

not surprised

looney and tuney and nighty nite

Happy Birthday (week) girl. Let's try again next year.

Dinner On Bleecker

After the rousing performance in midtown, there's nothing we wanted more than a delicious meal at one of the Village's fine and dimly lit restaurants. And that's what we got. Ciao Vineria Con Cucina was the chosen location. I don't think there was better choice for this night.



Our table was wobbly and smelled of oaky oils, but it only enhanced the experience. Our company was Greg to our left and Amon & Alan to our right. I sat at the head of the table where I could smell all the food passing by on its way to other patrons.




And tho Laura is not drinking any alcohol for the next few months, I couldn't help but mollycoddle a glass of chianti when Greg offered up the chance to celebrate this momentous occasion. The waiter poured a glass for Laura, so tonight I was the one who drank for two.




This was a nice place and while Amon & Greg caught up and spoke city speak Laura & I made mental notes of decor we liked.



Dinner came. Laura ordered the strozzapreti con gamberi, that's hand-rolled pasta with shrimp in a pesto cream sauce, and I had the bramzimo, a pan seared sea bass in a delicious mystery sauce served with yellow squash, spinach and roasted red peppers. Holy crap it was all so good. And the complimentary limoncello was the perfect chaser. A fine dine indeed.




The night came to an end all too soon, but everyone at the party had to be up early so... such is the life.



The long train & walk in the 12 degree weather back to Brooklyn past midnight confirmed our beliefs that Laura & I would not want to ever live in the city. We shuffled our feet past the Brooklyn Museum and managed to snap a shot to prove we survived.



So maybe that's our trip to the city for the year.

Let Me Think About It

The scene of the crime



The staging area



The cheer squad



The bakesale



The witness and paparazzo



The partner in crime



Friday night was fun tho. Greg had been commissioned by Hunter University to be part of an art performance installation based on American pageantry. The basis pretty much, explained by Darren, the charming proprietor of the gallery on west 41st street with an odd little Scottish accent, was to remove the barriers commonly found between a would-be spectator and the groups performing in each room of the warehouse. First thing that came to mind was that those barriers are really only there so someone doesn't get knocked the hell out, but hey, this might be fun.



We functioned like a normal guard unit would, showing up late and not being prepared in the slightest. We managed to throw together a few combinations thta most of us caught on to. I remained in the rear to allow for maximum entertainment and least possible injury to innocent gawkers.



And there were gawkers. Quite a few. I was surprised actually. These art show crowds can be quite easily intrigued. But not as surprised as when the Hungarian band came in blasting their sousaphones and saxomophones, skirted dancers in tow and integrated themselves into our attempts at "pageantry". My crew seemed less than amused. I loved it.



The whole shebang was only about 2 and a half hours, but considering I hadn't done this since I was 22, my limit was reached about 45 minutes in. I hung in there because it was my swan song, but I was mostly doing runs and skipping the reps. In the end I gave you a few good takes and can feel good about it being the very last time I put myself on the stage. Curtain call? Nah.



And when I took my water/text/nap breaks Laura, like a good wife, filled in for me. She hadn't learned anything but of course that didn't stop her.





She's still got it.

The evening ended up exactly how it should have. With silk hanging from the rafters and me breaking a light. It's only fair.



The All-Stars of West 41st

Breakfast In Brooklyn

It's funny. When we got to Amon's new (and much tidier) place on Carroll Street we realized that had been almost exactly two years since we last visited him in the city. January 31st, 2008. The way we left after that stay was "let's not wait two years to do this again!". We just made it.

Amon's new place is nice. And warm. Dead end street. We found parking right out front. No wandering the streets of Brooklyn this time. And we was hungry! All of us! Amon had cereal but no milk. He had glasses but no juice. A grocery run was imminent. And in this bitter cold, I had just started to feel my toes again. But our bellies had the facts and they voted yes.

Laura stayed in the warm apartment to do the cooking prep.

When we got back the two of them whipped into gear and threw everything from the fridge into some eggs and made some blueberry waffles on a dirty waffle iron, the only way to do it really. Little secret for making fresh blueberry waffles; use frozen blueberries. I went thru Amon's personal belongings to see if anything tickled my fancy.

0

Breakfast served...

And this made Laura...

Aye Yo What's Up With Aesop

Amon's Apartment
Brooklyn, NY
February 1st 2008 @ 4:21 am
[exactly 1 year ago]

Amon Is An Old Friend

Amon and I go back to 1998, which may not seem that long ago, but I don't keep in touch with many people prior to that, maybe 2 or 3, so he classifies as an old friend. He lives in Brooklyn now and has been harassing me about visiting since we came back up north, so on a whim, we went. Here's how it went down.

We arrived late in the evening, around 11pm, Amon was waiting up. We were greeted by a strange tooth-replica wearing roommate who seemed determined to assure us of his awkward tendencies and then excused himself to vomit {no. Seriously}. We hastily retreated to Amon's room, a 10x12 pale yellow hovel lit only by a string of icicle lights and and TV screen. There may have been a carpeted floor but we couldn't tell thru the piles of clothes, books & CDs. For shame.


The decision to head out was made and after a quick stop to pick up a friend, a young hipster named Jen, we arrived at the Levee, a prototypical young hipster bar in Brooklyn. Goings-on, things you would expect at such a place {a prototypical young hipster bar in Brooklyn that is}, like the Yeah Yeah Yeah's blasting, lotsa tight jeans, vintage pinball machines & Yuenglings galore. Conversation touched on turbo gentrification, freak encounters with Asheknazis, our favorite member of the Broken Social Scene, and how none of us would survive in a world without Woody Allen films. The one saving grace was that this place served some delicious frito pie. Mmmmmm frito pie.


We got back to the hovel around 3am and proceeded to fold clothes, drink Heinekens {it's all we could find at 3am}, eat chocolate chip cookies & watch Fraggle Rock. This was a vast improvement. We were also treated to a hip-hop rhyme Amon has been working on, although not very dilligently. I may put it up on Youtube. I'll let ya know about it.


We woke promptly at noon the following morning and headed out in the rain in search of some food. We were starved. The east village was our destination, Café Orlin on St. Marks in specific. They had an attractive menu, but at that point we would have chewed our way thru the metal fences around Washington Square and fried up a nice fat squirrel. Thank god it didn't come to that.

Our order:
-Amon got the pan roasted goat cheese salad {which he proceeded to eat like a sea monster}


-Fran ordered the Indonesian grilled chicken w/ rice & spinach


-I had the mahi-mahi on couscous w/ seared onion


-bruschetta & a delectable mushroom ravioli in basil cream sauce was ordered for the table
-water all around

We decided to head over to Chelsea to see a film. We really wanted to see Strange Wilderness {sometime idiots just wanna laugh at other idiots} but the rainy day interfered. Wanting to laugh & cry, we decided to see The Savages starring Laura Linney & our hero Philip Seymour Hoffman. Another flawless movie. So far in the 2008 we are 4 for 4. Seriously, this is a great film. The kind that you jusy sit thru, unaware you're in a room full of strangers, & you don't realize how great it is til it's over and you're half way home and you say "Wow, that was such a great movie!".

We tried to meet up with Greg afterwards, but he's a sleepyhead and had a busy tomorrow. Walking walking walking thru the streets, why take the subway on such a night. We stocked up on some dinner supplies and headed back across the East River. After drowning in a sea of roommates {while one wore a long t-shirt & spoke five languages, only using them to translate foreign DVDs, another assured us that he does not consider Atlanta as a part of Georgia due to it's inability to reconcile with its' dark past, and yet another was too smug to engage us in pleasantries because of some ongoing drama between him and the house, shucks}, we settled in for a cozy evening of music, hot dogs and beer. At the pinnacle of Grizzly Bear's Yellow House I happened to glance over to see how it was reading, but got nothing. Fran & Amon had passed out.


How long had they been that way? Who knows. I finished out the album, put on the remaining episodes of Fraggle Rock from the night before and passed out myself, without reservation.


We had to leave this morning, Fran had work at 1. So after some fresh cinnamon rolls we got to experience firsthand how transcending Jens Lekman can be driving the streets of Brooklyn. We weren't even upset when they messed up our order at McDonalds or when we had to pay the $9 toll crossing the Verrazano.

In conclusion, We love Amon. I mean, who else can you sing Smiths songs in the subway with, play suicide-charades, or have a heated discussion over what Radiohead album actually thrusted them into their genius status, and whether or not it was justified or too little too late? Amon Amon Amon. We will go back, when he gets the chance to clean his room and buy an aerobed.

Some extra photos from our visit...