Just a Few Things..

I just uploaded a bunch of photos from my iPhone to my computer. They span the many months since I was regularly posting. May they give you a brief, absurdly random description of what my life has been like.

This is the wonderful display at Village Fried Chicken up in Harlem. Their nugets were indeed very special. But after ingesting the fried morsels and guzzling my free can of soda, I was yet unsatisfied. My sweet tooth was aching for something cold and delicious...

Perfect! They have fried chicken AND exotic ice creams? I guess Ram. must be short for something, and that something is 'delicious'. They really packed in the raisans with every bite. I also sampled their finest Pista Shio ice cream, although I personally am preferential to a good Mista Shio or a Sista Shio. 

After a particularly raucous night in the VIP room at my old job after hours, my punishment the following night was to help the bartender take inventory on every single bottle, keg, and box of beer, wine, fine spirits, juices, condiments, what-nots, scaddlywinks, and what-have-yous. It took five hours, and was absolute torture.

Ah yes, the world-renowned Brothers Shmuck and their traveling antique road show. Since 1929 they've been peddling the finest of trinkets, tchotchkes, knicknacks, doodads, and various gimcracks and gewgaws to the open arms of those hungry for frippery and foppery. This quality emporium is located on the corner of East 125th Street and 3rd Avenue, its name a constant source of merriment for East Harlem's robust Jewish population.

 I was on the L train heading into Manhattan one day when a band of merry pranksters boarded the train, clothed in the bizarre trappings of deranged animen (half man, half animal), with snouts and claws and paper mache all about. I took one of their postcards and discovered that these creatures were part of Draw-A-Thon Theater, a weekly event in which nude models get adorned with bizarre costumes and sculptures and pose for people to draw or paint. Throughout the evening, the costumes, models, poses, and scenery change, adding a dramatic, ever-changing aspect to a normal nude modeling session. 

This is my old manager Joe. He is riding a mechanical pony. Behind me, midget porn mixes with 1960's B-movie footage on an old TV set above the bar. I can't recall the name of the bar, but I shall never forget the porn and ponies. 

This is the first photo of my freshly-shorn cranium. From thenceforth I would be a new man.

This is me and Emily. She's a fairy god mother. She's the second of her kind that I've met, the first helping us find our warm place at the tail end of a crazy night in Boston back in November. We are pictured here posing in our newly acquired favorite shirts, she sporting my 'DJs scratch their 12 inch' Flava Flav shirt, and I posing proudly in her Stamp Collectors T (Stamp Collectors is a band.. listen to 'Never Too Late') that says 'this is a t-shirt' on the back. Shame on you! All that was exchanged were shirts, ideas, and wondrous vibes in a wondrous home in Cape Cod with three beautiful dogs and a bushel of friends and the warm glow of the morning sun. And that was on a Wednesday.

Here we have Greg and Dave just after the above-pictured shirt-swapping. Gregory was just the height of silliness and applesauce, all flapdoodle and jive with the rising of Thursday's sun. We all made magic things that night, that morning.

This was a fun Friday night filled with sweaty jumpsuits, blistered tambourine hands and disrobing audience members. 

If you are one of these three audience members, email me. Please.