Friday, October 24, 2008
Bloggetty, Blog, Blog, Blog
Current mood: focused
I've moved! No, not me personally, although that should be coming up in the next couple of months. I've actually transferred (most) of my blog entries from myspace over to another site. http://interstate365.blogspot.com. As I've been cutting and pasting my entries from over the past couple of years, I couldn't help but stop and read some of them.
Some topics that stood out were, well, North Carolina. In one of the entries I wrote about how I was going to go to Raleigh for the first time to work at RBC. The original intentions were to feed Van Halen, then it evolved into feeding Def Leppard. It finally ended up that I came down here to feed Barry Manilow. Now there's a stretch.
The funny thing is that I wrote about how much I love the South, but could never envision myself living here. Here is an excerpt:
_______________________________________________________________
Wednesday, March 18, 2008
In other news, my trip is still on to go to North Carolina, but the artist that we're feeding has been changed once again. First, no Van Halen, and then next, Def Leppard was off the list. Who are we feeding now? None other but Mr. Barry Manilow. At the rate that they've been changing things up on me, by the time I get to North Carolina, I'll be feeding Raffi. Now wouldn't that be exciting. I am sort of excited to see Barry Manilow, though, and I'm even thinking about staying down there for an extra day or two to hang out in the South. It's been years since I've spent time in North Carolina, but I think I really like that part of the country. It seems that every time that I go down there I always meet really great people, and have a great time. Could I live in the South, though? Hard to say, but I'd have to go out on a limb and say probably not. First, it's waaaaaay too hot. Secondly, what do you do down there? Also, it seems like people move really slowly down there. Having been in NYC for ten years, that would definitely take some getting used to. Also, I know the barbecue is great down there, but one does not live on barbecue alone. Or do they???
_______________________________________________________________
I do believe this is what they call foreshadowing.
Currently listening :
The Evil One (plus one)
By Roky Erickson & The Aliens
Release date: 2002-04-16
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Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Polk Salad Annie
Current mood: dorky
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRF24LY5pvw
Yeah.
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Monday, October 13, 2008
The Gnomes of Raleigh and Pokeberry Punch
Current mood: inquisitive
I finally removed myself from my self-imposed sequestering this weekend, and really had a great time painting the Raleigh red. It was nice to see some peeps and actually interact with someone other than my co-workers or my roommate's dog, Pluto. Love them all, but there really are limitations to the conversation, especially and obviously with my canine friend.
After my day of making tarts and cakes and other sweet treats at the restaurant, I made tracks to my apartment to change into something that had a little less flour on it. Since it was still daylight, I made a point of cruising by the house of garden gnomes. As I approached the bungalow, I suddenly heard what sounded like somebody taking the trash out. I got all excited at the prospect of actually seeing who lived in the house. But then, then I got nervous and stopped in my tracks. For some reason, I felt over the top conspicuous. By the time I actually reached the house it was too late, because they had already shut the door behind them. My opportunity to see the keeper of the gnomes slipped right through my fingers. Drat! Foiled again.
As it turns out, Grandmasterflam was right. The berries that I described in my last writing are pokeberries. Here's a picture, and because I know you were dying to know all about pokeberries, I've included some facts.
Poke berries Pictures, Images and Photos
Apparently, they've been used as a dye and ink for centuries. Actually, it was used to write the Declaration of Independence. It's a toxic plant, but despite that fact, people still eat the leaves in Poke Salad. Geniuses abound! Apparently you have to boil the leaves three times to remove the toxins, but that doesn't guarantee that they will be poison free. It really is a weed, but now people actually cultivate the plant because of the ornamental berries. There's actually a Poke Salad festival somewhere in Tennessee, which I actually might consider attending. Anybody else?
Currently listening :
Anthology 1968-1993
By Can
Release date: 2007-10-23
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Saturday, October 11, 2008
Walking Before Midnight
Current mood: distractable
For the most part, I walk to and from work, almost on a daily basis. Almost three miles one way - fifty minutes to the kitchen and forty-five minutes to home. It's mostly downhill on the way home, in case you were wondering why the reduced time on my return trip. My journey allows for plenty of time to clear the head, and let random thoughts develop into full-blown theories. This is sometimes a good thing, and sometimes not so good.
During the day, I walk and notice all the Southern flora and fauna that I'm so unfamiliar with, and sometimes take samples into work to find out what they are. Yeah, I know. A little odd, and totally dorky, but inquiring minds have to know. Oh, and just for the record, the fauna doesn't come to work with me. I leave the squirrels and those little gecko guys in their element.
Some of the houses have these gorgeous red-stemmed plants that have broad green leaves with red veins. They also boast these really lovely and delicate berries that look almost like elderberries. If they fall to the ground, they stain the sidewalk a beautiful shade of magenta. I still have yet to find out what they are, but I'm guessing that they're not a good thing to eat, although I must admit I've been tempted to try them. Also along my path I've notice eucalyptus trees, with they're unusually shaped, firm, greenish-gray leaves. Seeing these trees automatically makes me think of Australia and koala bears, which in turn makes me think of my old roommate in Brooklyn (who was Australian), which in turn makes me think of my friend Linda, which in the end makes me think of New York. Oh, how the mind wanders.
On my walk home from the kitchen, I've experimented with taking different roads, which I've noticed in the end all end up at the same road - Whitaker Mill. The roads in Raleigh are nothing like the grid-like patterns of New York. The roads here wind about and fall upon each other. There's no rhyme or reason to them, but in the end they get you to where you need to be, which is really all that I require from them.
Some of the houses in Raleigh are really amazing. I'm especially fond of the Southern style bungalows with the front porches that look oh so inviting. There are a few in particular that I really am drawn to because they just radiate charm. I've often envisioned myself sitting on these front porches, reading a book, drinking some tea, or perhaps something stronger. If somebody happened to walk by, I'd probably say hello, and might even engage in conversation.
I recently noticed a house that has many garden gnomes in the front yard, something that I haven't seen in a long time. This particular house probably has ten of them, and they all are positioned below a low lying palm tree. The palm tree normally would look out of place among the oaks of Raleigh, but for some reason it fits in this particular yard, and especially with the gnomes standing guard. I really want to see who lives there, but it's probably not going to happen at 11:30 at night. Perhaps I'll take that road during the day sometime to investigate further.
My "front porch" in Brooklyn was on the roof of my building on Belvidere St. That was one of my favorite places in the world. When I returned home from my extended work travels, I would spend most of my time on that roof - weather permitting of course. I would watch the J train go by, beer, wine or other beverage in hand, sometimes visiting with a friend or neighbor, sometimes just enjoying the solitude amidst the hum of the city. I loved watching the sun rise on the roof, which was usually the time when my neighbor, Gordon would show up. He was a night-owl like me, and ever so entertaining. He was a percussionist, and had a wicked sense of humor. I remember he would show up, usually as I was just about to return to my apartment to be lulled to sleep by the J train. There's he'd be with a big glass of vodka and something (God, was it vitamin water?), and just full of conversation. He would pop out onto the grafitti covered rooftop and regale me with stories of his evening's adventures.
Tomorrow, another walk to work.
Currently reading :
Best Garden Plants for North Carolina
By Pam Beck
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Monday, October 06, 2008
Nineteen Days and Counting!
Current mood: angsty
Soon, to return to New York. The plan has been set forth, and on the 25th of October I'm finally going back to New York to get my stuff and officially make Raleigh my residence. I feel good about it for the most part, but honestly, I'm a little nervous about it. Even though I like Raleigh and all of the people that I've met, I still really miss New York. There isn't a day that goes by when I'm not comparing the two places, when in reality that's not even remotely possible. Comparing the two is like comparing apples and oranges, or beer and wine, or perhaps vinegar and honey. This too shall pass, I hope.
Currently listening :
This Nation's Saving Grace
By The Fall
Release date: 1997-08-12
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Monday, September 29, 2008
Myspace.com Blogs - a matter of trust - Jim Walsh MySpace Blog
http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog....
Let the truth be known.
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Friday, September 26, 2008
Population
Current mood: catalyzed
I've been thinking quite a bit about all of the cities that I've lived in over the years. This is occurring, especially now that I'm settling into a job here in Raleigh, and am actually in panic mode with regards to picking up my stuff in New York. One recurring thought is despite the fact that Minneapolis and Raleigh have about the same population, there's something about Raleigh that makes it seem a little more "small town". Granted it's been nearly fifteen years that I've lived in the Minny, but there just seems to be a difference between the two, and on many different levels; culturally, demographically, intellectually, etc. Okay, I feel the flames shooting from my North Carolinian friends' eyes, so here's the disclaimer. I'm not saying that one city is better than the other, this is all merely an observation, and one that is based on personal experience.
Because I've been thinking about this topic, I decided to do some fact checking to make sure that indeed Raleigh and Minneapolis did have similar numbers for population. This is what I came up with, and obviously this is one of the reasons why Minneapolis seems that much larger (I know. I need to get a hobby):
Raleigh, NC - Population, July 2007 - 375,806 - 48th largest city in U.S.
Minneapolis, MN - Population, July 2007 - 377,392 - 46th largest city in U.S.
In case you're wondering what the 47th largest city is, it's Colorado Springs, CO. Honolulu, HI comes right after Raleigh, and Tulsa, OK comes right before Minneapolis (which blows me away).
Anyway, the thing that clearly makes such a difference, despite the similar numbers in actual population, is the population density. Here are the stats:
Raleigh, NC - Population density per square mile - 2,409.2
Minneapolis, MN - Population density per square mile - 6,969.4
I guess we (they?) have to pack more people into each square mile just to keep warm - or something like that. To put this all into perspective, though, check this tidbit out:
New York City, NY - Population, July, 2007 - 8,274,527 - Largest city in U.S.
Los Angeles, CA - Population, July, 2007 - 3,834,340 - 2nd largest city in U.S.
Population density for NYC - 26,403.8 people per square mile
Population density for LA - 7,876.4 people per square mile
Ah, I miss New York and the oddly comforting suffocation it offers. But you know what? I miss Minneapolis quite a bit, and for that matter, I miss LA. I'm guessing if I left Raleigh, I'd miss it here as well.
Currently listening :
Life...the Best Game in Town
By Harvey Milk
Release date: 2008-06-03
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Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Facesterbookspace?
Current mood: curious
In the beginning, there was Friendster. I protested, I stomped my feet, and then I joined the ranks. It lasted all of maybe a month or two, then I went off into a world where internet didn't exist, and my thousand hour work week didn't allow for such shenanigans. I ceased and I desisted.
Then there came MySpace. Once again, I protested, I stomped my feet, and then as I did with Friendster, the ranks I did join. Here I am today. I even write a blog through the damn thing, as you obviously can see. MySpace has put me in touch with many, many people, some of whom I currently know and have been speaking to on a regular basis over the years. Some I've never met before in my life and probably never will meet - fortunately, or unfortunately, I'm not sure. Then there are the few that I had never met before, but then later on met face to face. I'm now good friends with one in particular. Then there are the people that I knew once upon a time, many, many years ago that frankly at one time I never thought I'd hear from again. Suddenly their profile appears, and we are in touch again, sometimes after an excess of fifteen years! This is the part about MySpace that amazes me the most, and the one that piques my curiosity most often.
I thought I had my hands full with this world of Myspace, and then suddenly along comes Facebook. There it sat, it's pundits seemingly being of the twenty-something, college set; a group that does not appeal to me at all. I protested, I stomped my feet, I joined. Sigh. This all happened last week merely because I was sent an invitation from somebody and couldn't view it unless I joined. I was tricked! Oh well, because once again, something good came out of this. Since last week when I first joined Facebook, I have been in touch with nearly twenty people with whom I haven't spoken to in at least fifteen years. Some of them I considered close friends at one time, and then as it often happens through life, I lost touch with them. Now I'm back in touch with them, and in some cases it just blows my mind how often our lives have crossed paths, and without even knowing it.
For instance, one person I knew from maybe fifth grade up until tenth or eleventh grade. We used to have slumber parties at each other's houses back in elementary school. We parted ways once I went to my second high-school, an alternative school in Minneapolis. I think I maybe ran into her once in my early twenties, and then nothing after that. Now I find out that she's been living in New York City for the past five or six years. Another example is a friend who I went to the alternative school with, back in the eighties. She's been living in New York for the past eight years! The examples keep on going on and on, and my head just keeps on spinning.
Is there yet another social networking site lurking out there? If so, I'm sure I'll protest, and of course I'll stomp my feet...and then I'll join.
Currently listening :
Duran Duran
By Duran Duran
Release date: 2003-08-05
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Monday, September 08, 2008
It’s On.
Current mood: determined
I've officially accepted a regular, full-time job, here in the beautiful city of Raleigh, NC. I guess that means that I live here, now. I still have to get my personal effects (re: my junk) from New York, but that should happen in the near future. I hate to say it, but to truly feel complete, I need my Cuisinart and my cookbooks - not to mention those damn CDs and records! Ugh.
Currently listening :
Wound of a Little Horse
By Witch Hats
Release date: 2006-11-20
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Sunday, August 31, 2008
The Number 11
Current mood: bored
I just took some sort of online personality test which spewed out the results as such: I'm someone with a strong work ethic that seeks stability, is more inclined to reject authority and has a propensity towards mysticism. Oh, I'm also introverted , like the unknown, am unconcerned with external opinion, and I'm an observer as well. That, and so much more.
The mysticism aspect is what caught my eye. I already guessed that the other stuff fit the bill, and I guess in the end that at times I can be propelled by a deeper sense of the universe. For instance, I've noticed that often throughout the day, I will look at a clock at the eleventh minute of the hour, and for at least a week that eleventh minute would occur at the eleventh hour. Often I look at the clock and it will be a multiple of eleven, that usually being twenty-two. The train that I took today from Greensboro ended with a dash eleven. The hotel room that I slept in was 111! What does this all mean?
Anyway, on to bigger and better things. Hmm. I worked in Greensboro this weekend at the War Memorial Auditorium, which is attached to the coliseum. The show this time around was Jordan Sparks along with Jesse McCartney. Because of some misinformation, I originally thought that Jesse McCartney was Paul McCartney's Son. Well, he's not. This time around, we only put in nineteen hours, and I didn't have to wash a single dish!
Part of my job this time was to supply all of the dressing rooms with the various deli platters and coolers filled with red bull, perrier and fresh squeezed juices. Not exactly what I set out to do when I went to culinary school, but I guess I gotta do what I gotta do. On one of my final trips back to the dressing rooms an unusual occurrence came about. Apparently Jesse left the backstage area to go back to his bus. A large group of teenage girls spotted him and immediately started running towards him, all the while screaming his name. "Jeeeeeeesssssssseeeeeee!" I was somewhat confused by all of this, but in the end I was more amused. I spotted various mothers trailing behind with little smirks on their face that said, "Ah, my teenage daughter. Isn't she ridiculous?" Yes, as a matter of fact, she is.
Not as ridiculous as the bee sting that I acquired. It was my first one in my entire life. Yes, it's true. Thirty-eight years old, and I've never been stung by a bee before. And it was completely unprovoked! The nerve.
Currently listening :
Superfuzz Bigmuff (Dlx)
By Mudhoney
Release date: 2008-05-20
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Sunday, October 26, 2008
May 31, 2008 - August 29, 2008
Friday, August 29, 2008
Don’t Jump!
Current mood: knighted
A new abode has just about been acquired. Without going into too many details, I am more than pleased by this prospect. Now to break it to my buddy Pluto. I hope he takes it well.
John Mayer at Alltel Pavilion went smooth as glass. Well, not really in the beginning. Getting there was somewhat of a nightmare, given the state of mass transit in the fair city of Raleigh. My call time was 8:30 a.m., which in New York would be no problem at all. Actually, anywhere in the Northeast it wouldn't be a problem, but here in Raleigh, that's not the case. I gave myself two and a half hours to get there on time. Yes, two and a half hours. Yes, I did get there on time, but not exactly without difficulty. I jumped on the 2 bus from my house and made my way downtown to Moore Transit Station. No sweat. Fifteen minutes and I was there. I took an early bus so I could guarantee that I would make the 7:00 transfer to the 5 bus, which according to the CAT website would get me to my destination at 8:18. Perfect, right? Well, all I have to say to that is never rely on the CAT website for any sort of information. I did arrive on time at Moore Station. I even had enough time to find some coffee. I had a lovely Cafe Americano from Raleigh Times, but I digress.
While on the bus, I noticed that they weren't calling out the stops as they sometimes do. Seeing as it was beginning to look as if I were out in the country (or at least the yards were getting bigger), I approached the bus driver to see if my stop was coming up. Why yes it was. I then asked which direction Alltel was, and she says, "My goodness. You have a long way to go from here. You should have taken the 18." Ah, yes. The tried and true 18. Yeah right. Thanks, CAT website.
I got off at my stop and proceeded down the road. Having lived in New York for ten years, I'm definitely accustomed to walking long distances. According to the CAT website, I had approximately a mile and a half to walk. In New York terms that would be about thirty blocks. Herald Square to the East Village -- easy. What the directions didn't say is that about a quarter mile from my destination, I would come across a freeway overpass, and one without any sort of sidewalk or barrier in the least bit. I approached the overpass, and immediately said, "No fucking way." Yes, I even said it out loud. I walked around to see if there could be another way over the freeway. No dice. So, I finally made the embarrasing call to my new employer and explained my situation. Beat and Tony came to the rescue and I made it to work right on time!
I thought, oh great. This is how my day is beginning? Isn't that terrific? Well, I got in the kitchen, and immediately turned things around, and much to my delight, my somewhat traumatic journey turned into what might have been one of the best career moves of my life. I kid you not. Without going into too much (I am superstitious, after all) I see many great opportunities on my horizon. Well, either that, or I'm going to become a mass transportation lobbyist for the city of Raleigh. Hmm.
Off to Greensboro I go!
Currently listening :
Highway 61 Revisited
By Bob Dylan
Release date: 2004-06-01
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Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Idle Hands Parte Deux
Current mood: intense
Ah, Raleigh. By the looks of the calendar, I've technically been here for a total of three and one-half months. Granted I wasn't actually here for two of them, but...Now to figure out what to do with Raleigh. Some things in the works; First, but not necesarilly, to find a new abode. I will take my time with this, and if something comes about that is absolutely perfect, I'm sure it will happen. It must. After said abode has been acquired, I must find some relatively stable work, especially now that the festival season is mostly over. There is a work agenda on the horizon, but more on that later. And finally, I should probably find some sort of vehicle to get me to and from said stable work. Oh God! Not that! Actually, I'm thinking that a bike might be even better, but that would only be if I lived a little closer to downtown. Cruising down Capital Blvd. on a bicycle at 3:00 in the morning just doesn't seem that appealing to me for some reason. Call me crazy.
Back to the topic of stable work. John Maher? Is that what's next on the agenda? Doesn't he do that "You're Beautiful" song that I hate so much? Oh God, again. After that, some gig in beautiful Greensboro (Is it? I've never been.) with Paul McCartney's Son and some guy who at one time won American Idol. Oh God, part three. So be it. It's work, is it not? Now if only I could figure out how to pull the resources together to start my OWN business. Wouldn't that be grand? Yes it would.
Currently listening :
Double Nickels on the Dime
By Minutemen
Release date: 1990-10-25
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Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Hey! You’re Not the Boss of Me!
Current mood: apathetic
I've returned from my most recent little jaunt around the South. This time, I was out feeding the Boss in both Charleston and Richmond. Yes, that's the right. The Boss, as in Mr. Springsteen and his E Street communards. It was a grueling five day run, but once again, I made it through. I returned extremely exhausted, but unscathed in the end. Bloodied, but unbowed, if you will.
My first stop was Charleston, SC. Considering that I had never seen Charleston before and that my new employer wasn't even in town yet, I decided to seek a cab to go check out the town. At first, people seemed somewhat unfriendly and distrustful. Maybe they smelled the Yankee on me. I asked the people at Greyhound desk for a cab number, and without even looking up at me, I was told that a number was not available. I asked someone in the front of the building, and they looked at me like I was insane and told me that they didn't have a number. A very large woman, with several children in tow overheard me, and finally was able to give me a number for a cab. That of course was after she asked me twenty questions about where I was going. Good, God! I just want to catch a cab. Did it have to be so difficult? Apparently so. I finally got a hold of a cab company, and then they asked me twenty questions as well. Then there was the cab that pulled up from a different company that wouldn't even let me in his cab. According to the Greyhound attendant, "He only picks up men from the station." Clearly I wasn't able to help him with that, so I let him go on his merry way.
Once I made it downtown, the cab driver dropped me at a bustling little seafood place, right on the harbor - the name of which escapes me. Something Ferry, so I'm guessing it at one time was a ferry station. Quick, aren't I? I bellied up to the bar, as I normally do, retrieved a menu and wine list from the bartender, and proceeded to order what I would call a mediocre, at best, meal. It consisted of a doughy and somewhat flavorless crab cake, and a tuna steak with a charred tomato sauce, sauteed green beans and dirty rice. Even the bartender at this establishment was mediocre, although he did buy me a shot at the end. Along with my tuna steak, I ordered a glass of red zinfandel, something that I would deem as an appropriate wine selection. To this, the bartender responded by sucking air through his teeth and saying, "Oh, I don't know if I would do that," as if I were about to throw rocks through the window. The other bartender backed me up on my choice, and all systems were go for the glass of red zinfandel. Kids today, I tell you. Hasn't anybody ever told him that the customer is always right? Hmm.
I made my way back to the Red Roof Inn in some foul smelling cab with the surliest of surly cab drivers. You would think this all would make me feel at home, being from New York, but not today. Today, it was merely a cab ride with an asshole cab driver that smelled like he shat himself. I made it back in one piece to find that my co-workers had just arrived at the hotel. I introduced myself, and straight to bed I went. We had a 4:15 a.m. call in the parking lot, and it was now 12:30 a.m. Yikes!
4:15 a.m. came quickly, and there I was with Emma, John and Aaron in the parking lot, as commanded to do. We jumped in the van and found ourselves at the Charleston Coliseum to go through the usual procedure of unloading the trucks and setting up the kitchen and dining room. We were short handed, and seeing as I had never worked for this company before, they had no idea that I'm a chef. For all they knew, I was a master sommelier. Well, as luck should have it, their dishwasher of three years quit about one hour before they were supposed to depart from Asheville. So, on top of setting up the buffet line, making all of the five hundred gallons of coffee and filling the refrigerator with beverages, the great task of washing dishes was bestowed upon me. Yes, I will do dishes when I work for Kerry or any other employer, but for twenty hours straight??? Probably not. It's true. I did dishes for approximately twenty hours that day. At one point, my employer found out what my role for Kerry actually is, and he was extremely apologetic and seemingly grateful, but that didn't change the fact that I still did dishes for twenty hours. So be it. Once again, I got through it, and then moved on to the next day.
We finally exited the coliseum at 2:30 a.m. and went straight back to the hotel. We were to sleep in until check out, which was noon. I woke up at about 11:15, took a quick shower, and then we got a call around 11:55 from Jim telling us that he extended our check out until 1:00. Thank for the heads up, guy. I decided that I was going to walk around the highway area and see if I could rustle up some cash and maybe some food. For some reason I woke up famished, and I made it my number one priority to get food in my stomach. I traipsed over to the Kangaroo Mart to get some cash, and then made my way back across the highway to the Waffle House to order my Texas Turkey Melt sandwich and some cheesy grits. Oh, and of course some coffee. I sat and ate my sandwich while I watched the Waffle House employee drama unfold, and then made my way back to the hotel. Jim had called and told me that they already left to go to IHOP, and said that he would pick me up at the hotel, so there I waited. Back to IHOP, and then in the van we went to make our way up to Richmond.
Seeing as it was Aaron's birthday, it seemed fitting that we all go out for some food and drinks once we hit the town. John opted out, so it was me, Aaron and Emma. We jumped in the van and made our way downtown. We finally found our way to some sort of ale house that was recommended. Once again, we were served mediocre food, and it was overpriced. We had some serviceable calamari with a corn salsa and cilantro aioli, both of which could have had much done to them to make better. I had a Crab BLT, which was basically a flashy tuna sandwich with some bacon on it. They did have a pretty impressive beer selection, although going through their beer menu was a little bit like searching through the Library of Congress.
Emma, as planned, made her way back to the hotel, and Aaron and I headed towards a part of town that was recommended to us by the name of "The Bottom". I'm not quite sure why it was called "The Bottom", but I'm guessing that it's in reference to some hill that must have been near by. We popped our heads in a couple of bars, and immediately decided that we had to move on to something a little bit more lively. We then found ourselves at some sort of Irish pub with a spaced out bartender and a lively, mixed crowd. We ordered our Jameson's and our Newcastle, and then suddenly found that the bartender had turned off the music and instead turned on some movie. We decided that wasn't quite our speed, so we quickly finished our beers and made our way down to another bar, of which the name escapes me. It was a little, arty, punk-rock bar with lots of mannequins and skulls and various other knick-knacks scattered about; the sort of place with which I'm definitely familiar. We were greeted by a somewhat friendly, red-headed bartender by the name of Chris. We ordered our shots and beers and repeated the process several times until the bar closed at 2:00 a.m. Not a good thing, considering that we had another 4:15 a.m. call, but like it hasn't been done before. Ah, to be young.
3:45 a.m. came about. I woke up, jumped in the shower for fifteen seconds, and rolled out to the parking lot. This time around, we had some local crew, so my dishwashing services were no longer required. Thank you. There must be a God. The morning went by without incident, except one small thing. Aaron never got out of bed, therefore, he never made it into work. Jim was livid to say the least, but what were we to do? The only thing to do was to press on and make the best of it. We rolled the truck and van into the building, unloaded the stuff and set up as usual. I made the five-hundred gallons of coffee and filled the cooler, then was instructed to go into the kitchen to help out with making lunch. Ah, back to my home turf. The menu had been made already, and I was instructed to make shepherd's pie and some minestrone soup. Usually, quite an easy task, but this time, there were problems. Go figure! At about 9:45 a.m. (I think), some electricians came into our kitchen area and informed us that we would need to shut down everything and rewire it, because we were simply drawing too much power. What??? You can't shut us down! We were in the middle of lunch, and it HAD to be up at noon. That's just the way it is. We didn't have any time to spare. Well, we had to work around it, and we just made the best of it. Luckily, at one point the Catering Coordinator came in and told us that we had another half hour. Phew. But alas, it still wasn't enough time.
We finally got our half-assed lunch out on the line at 12:45, and I have to say that it was one of my least proud culinary moments. The potatoes were undercooked, so the topping for the shepherd's pie was chewy and lumpy. The minestrone was okay, but it didn't have any pasta in it. Whatevs. It's not like production crews are exactly gourmands, but in the end, it's not how I like to operate. I prefer to put out the best food possible, but this time it just didn't happen.
We made it up at dinner time with some awesome beef tenderloin, some swordfish steaks, and a bunch of other things. I made Clarence four lobster tails and a nice big steak (as per his rider), and then we packed up the kitchen and finally headed out at 3:30 a.m.
Now I'm back in Raleigh. Next on the agenda? Who knows. I'm sure it will almost be interesting, though.
Currently listening :
Van Halen
By Van Halen
Release date: 2000-09-19
9:23 AM - 1 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, August 11, 2008
Some pictures!
Current mood: tested
Yeah, that's right. I posted some pictures from the last two months on the road. I can't believe all the ground that I covered over the past couple of months, and to think, some of my friends are still going. I think I'm glad to be back in Raleigh, but part of me almost wishes that I was still on the move. That time will come again, I presume.
Currently reading :
Delicate Prey: And Other Stories
By Paul Bowles
Release date: 2006-06-13
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Thursday, August 07, 2008
Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
Current mood: indescribable
It's been almost two months since I left Raleigh, and I think I'm finally ready to return. It's been an interesting summer, to say the least. Where have my travels taken me, and what have I been doing? Well, let me see. It all started out, of course, in beautiful Portland, ME, but I already told y'all about that already. Then we made our way across the country in the trucks to lovely Rothbury, MI for our first harrowing festival experience. That was a tough one, but we made it through it -- barely. But we did make it through, and immediately after we had to haul ass to Masontown, WV for sketch fest, 2008. Okay, it's not really called Sketch Fest, but it certainly should be. It's actually called All Good, and despite its idyllic surroundings, it's filled with nothing but drug fueled, nitrous tank toting, neo-hippies. Woo hoo! Good times? Hardly, although when I'm there, I just stay out of the mix and stick to the people that I know and love. Although, that being said, initially I was so exhausted from Rothbury that interacting with people at first was somewhat of a difficult challenge. Once again, we made it through and then for a break.
Off the caravan went for the great Professional Catering Services, Inc., decision by committee party. We discussed the options - well not we, but they discussed the options - and finally ended up at a campground in the New River Gorge, all with the intentions of going white-water rafting. Uh, no thanks. I don't know what happened over the years, because at one point in my life I would have probably gone along, but this time I wasn't feeling it. I was tired, and cranky, and I just wanted a bed and maybe some good food and company. I wanted to chill, so instead of going with the group, I drove Veronica and Nicky to Staunton, VA so somebody could pick them up to go home for a few days. Definitely a good call on my behalf, because on the return trip I had three much needed hours to myself. I returned to find the party had just started. The fire was going, food was cooking, and I was far more relaxed than I had been when I left in the morning.
Good times were had that evening, including a little jaunt into the woods and stretching out in wet grass by a frog filled pond under a full moon. I had the scratches all up and down my arms in the morning to prove it. Then, finally at about two or three in the morning, I made my way back to our cabin. Despite having no bedding to speak of, I was looking forward to lying down on my little bed, with tablecloths to keep me warm. But alas, my plans were quickly thwarted. I went to the door and discovered six Asian women had taken over the cabin, despite the fact that all of my stuff was still in the room. Clearly there had been an administrative error. At first, of course, I was annoyed. I made my way to the truck, put on my headphones, and finally got over it all and went to sleep. I awoke at about 11:00 to find that everyone was making their way to some gas station down the road that served food. Ah, gas station food. Not exactly ideal nutrition, but sustenance was definitely in order, so I followed.
We finally made our way back on the road. We drove for a while to a lovely town by the name of Lewisburg, WV. I napped, woke up terribly cranky, and then made my way to town to have food with Lauren and Dicky - us three being the triumvirate of bitterness. I had a serviceable Irish stew and some Jameson, and then we made our way back to our house, er um, hotel.
At this point I was done with our little vacation, and was definitely ready to go back to work. Perfect, because we all jumped in the truck and finally made our way to our next destination - beautiful Floyd, VA. The thing about all of these festivals is that despite their content, they're usually set in the most beautiful surroundings. This time, our site was in the middle of the Blue Ridge mountains in Northwestern Virginia. The nice thing about Floyd Fest was that it wasn't so filled with the usual "wookie" set. It was much more family oriented, and very chill. We got through this festival with ease (well, somewhat) and all parted ways at the end.
My original intentions were to go straight back to Raleigh after all of the festival hub-bub was over. That all would have been fine, but suddenly I got a wild hair up my ass and decided that it would be a good idea to go to Chicago. I had originally set my sights on procuring a pass for Lollapalooza, but was fine with the idea of just going to Chicago. It had been almost fifteen years since I had been back, and I thought since I was going there it would be nice to take a little side trip to Minneapolis - the Motherland.
Monica, Melyssa and I jumped in Monica's car and made our way to Chicago, with one planned stop in Charleston, WV, where we would be dropping off Melyssa. The plan was to drop her off and then hit the road again, but instead we all decided to stay in Charleston for the night. Too much fun, we had. We made our way to Sam's, a bar that I had been to when I last was in Charleston working for Kenny Chesney. My friend Dave wasn't working, which was too bad, but we had a great time, nonetheless. Many shots of tequila later, we continued to cause trouble by getting a large group of people to go to a strip club, which we were denied entrance to. Instead, Melyssa went running across the street and proceeded to jump into a large fountain. Monica and nameless follower "A" jumped in as well. Melyssa was then wrestling with nameless follower "A", all of which I have captured in photo form. We then made our way back to the hotel, carried on with stories to tell and things to share and then passed out. After one failed attempt to get Melyssa on the bus in the morning, we found our way to the mall (yes, the mall) to have some food. Food was consumed, pictures were taken in the photo booth, then we dropped Melyssa off at the bus station. We bid her farewell, and then made our way onto the freeway. Finally at about 10:00 p.m., we made our way into Chicago.
I stayed at Monica and Billy's place the first night. She showed me the neighborhood, we had Mexican food and then we made our way to one of the local bars. Good times, and more shots. Oh snap! After our many shots and successfully closing the bar, we made our way to Billy's Mom's house, where his brother and a group of his friends were sitting around smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and playing poker. We had some bratwurst and then made our way back to Billy's to drink wine and more (yes, more) tequila. Oh snap, again.
The next night I stayed at a hotel on LaSalle and Division. It was one of those transient style hotels. You know, the kind where you pick up TB. I was having a moment where I felt that it was necessary to experience that sort of a place, just once in my life, and ye know, it wasn't so bad. Nobody bothered me, and I had some much needed privacy. The next night I stayed at Marquis' house. Marquis is a friend of Porkchop's who I had met once before in Brooklyn. He's a bit of a nut, but I figured why not see Chicago from a native's perspective. I stayed there a couple of nights and then decided to make my way up to Minneapolis.
A visit to Minneapolis, of course, was way overdue. I took the Amtrak up there, which is always awesome. I love taking trains. I jumped into a cab and made my way to Chris' house. Seemingly not much has changed in the Minny. There are a few new restaurants, but most everything seems to be the same. After I arrived, we made our way to some bar where Chris' sister, Carol was DJing. At that point I felt like I may as well have been in a different country. Chris and Carol were of course familiar, but nobody else was. There was a time when I lived in Minneapolis and would go out and knew or recognized a good portion of those in the same place. This time around, nobody was familiar. Same thing happened the next night when I went out with Wendy to see Witchcraft. We went to the Triple Rock (a place that popped up after I moved away), and not one person was familiar. I guess I've been away for awhile.
Seeing as I had tickets to see The Melvins in Chicago on Monday, I had to high-tail it back to Chi-town, early on Monday morning. Wendy and I made our way over to Mickey's Diner in St. Paul, and then she dropped me off at the train station. While in transit, I rested a bit, and then made plans to meet my friend Patrick for Ethiopian food. This time, instead of the TB hotel or Marquis' place, I decided to upgrade to some hotel on the South side near Chinatown. I plunked my stuff down, cleaned myself up and headed up to Belmont and Clark to meet Patrick. While taking the train, suddenly a huge thunderstorm erupted, and apparently several tornadoes touched down in the Chicago area. As I guessed, Patrick was on the platform having just got off the same train. We waited the storm out and then made our way to have our Ethiopian meal, which, by the way, was pretty awesome. It wasn't the best Ethiopian that I've had, but it was definitely stand-up.
After a failed train ride attempt, we finally sensibly grabbed a cab to head to the Double Door in Wicker Park. We had missed Big Business, which was too bad, but were just in time for the Melvins, who were as usual, pretty awesome. There were weak moments when they did the reinvented Melvins stuff, but overall it was a good show. I wasn't sure how Patrick would receive it, but apparently he enjoyed it – and quite a bit. For this, I am glad.
One more night in town, and then I would make my way with Jared to ride with him to Asheville, NC, which is where I am right now. Tuesday night I hung out with Marquis and Patrick a bit, and then early, early, early in the morning, Jared and I made our way to Asheville. My original intentions were to leave Asheville as soon as I arrived, but I instead decided to stay the night. Three nights later, I'm still here. Not sure how that happened, but it did. Tomorrow morning, I will finally get on a bus and head down to Concord to go to a wedding with my friend Gus. That should be interesting. I will be in Concord overnight and then off to Raleigh I go! Ah, good ol' Raleigh. Seeing as I've spent most of my money already, I will need to go to work pretty much right away. The good news is that I already have an interview set up for Monday, plus I'm going to talk to a woman about decorating cookies for her gift basket company. That should be good.
Until next time…
Currently listening :
Focus Level
By Endless Boogie
Release date: 2008-06-17
8:22 PM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, June 23, 2008
Six Word Memoir
Current mood: apathetic
Writing makes me miss home more. There, Ben. There's my six word memoir. One of many from tonight.
I need for this summer to pass quickly. Here it is, day four of being in Michigan, and frankly, I'm still not feeling it. We actually started working today, and there were some challenges along the way. First of all, how do we procure twenty plus cases of tempeh when we're in a town of four hundred and sixteen people? Next, how do we get a four top range to cook eggs for nine hundred people? Actually, these are the sort of things that I enjoy doing. I could spend hours researching resources, especially when I'm faced with the challenge of knowing that there are NO resources in the immediate vicinity. I mean, come on. Most people in the world don't even know what tempeh is, let alone where to find it. I did get lost on my way to the grocery store today, and that was actually quite enjoyable. It's sort of nice to see the Midwestern landscape again. Rolling hills amidst flat fields of corn and soybeans. And did I mention the cottonwood trees? I haven't seen a cottonwood in years!
Tomorrow, the Sysco truck comes in! Yay! We can finally cook! Things are looking up, and hopefully I will no longer be bored.
Currently listening :
The Number of the Beast
By Iron Maiden
Release date: 2002-03-26
8:14 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Idle Hands
Current mood: bored
I arrived in Portland on Wednesday morning to find that one of our trucks was not running, and that we would of course have to wait until it was fixed before we could leave. Story of the backstage catering world, I'll have you know. It's never like you can just show up and things start happening. It's more like a constant state of "hurry up and wait". Not my favorite state of existence, but I've learned to live with it.
The truck was finally road worthy, we brought it back to the warehouse, and loaded it up with all of our equipment. It's actually quite the process to get everything onto the trucks. Everything that we use to cook on the road is packed in road cases, just like what bands use for their equipment. Everything has to be packed just so, otherwise a. not everything will fit, and b. the truck will be off balance. We finally got the truck packed, and off we went, and only seven hours behind schedule.
I had only been up for thirty-six hours at this point, but surprisingly, I felt pretty good. I guess I was just excited about working again. We made our way down the Maine turnpike, jumped onto the Mass turnpike, and made the decision somewhere around Worcester to stop in Lowell, MA. Lowell is about a half-hour outside of Boston. A lovely little New England town that at one time was known for a lot of heroin traficking. This fact always sort of threw me for a loop, because on the surface, Lowell is the last place where you would suspect something like that happens. I guess looks can be deceiving. Lowell, is also where Green Magnet School were from, but I digress.
We spent the night at Doubletree, Kerry's (my boss) home away from home. Clearly there was some sort of event going on. Lots of high school to early college age students were in the hallways and entryways of the hotel. Lots of drama in one group, which of course, witnessing this makes me glad that I'm no longer that age.
I ate some Chinese food from Kerry's favorite place in Lowell, which consisted of the largest chicken wings I've ever seen in my life, and some hot and sour soup. I made my way back to my room, called for my wake up call, read about three words from my book and immediately passed out. I woke up three minutes before my wake up call (which was 6:00 a.m), jumped out of bed and readied myself for the long drive ahead of us. As usual, we met in the lobby, had a little breakfast and finally were on the road by 7:00 a.m. We drove down the Mass turnpike to New York and drove across to a place somewhere near Schenectady, which is where we were picking up Danielle, who was also working for us. The interesting thing about Danielle is that at one time, she was a student of mine at the culinary school. I didn't recognize her at first, but then I remembered of course once she pushed my memory.
Back in the trucks/van we went and down the road to a Red Roof Inn, somewhere outside of Cleveland. Oh, Ohio. Let's just say that Ohio is NOT a place that I plan on living - ever. I don't know what it is (or isn't) about Ohio, but there's something about it that pushes me away. It just seems completely void of culture, much in the same way as say Indiana or maybe Missouri. But on the other hand, some really great music has come out of Ohio, which has always perplexed me. I suppose it's just a matter of...what is the saying? Oh yes. Necessity is the mother of invention.
We got on the road the next day at 8:00 a.m. and made our way to Rothbury, MI. We finally arrived at the Double J ranch in Rothbury at about 5:00 in the evening. We made our way to the site to find our tents were up, but of course, as is always the case, the floors weren't built. Then, we find out later that they want to change our feed dates, and instead of feeding on Saturday the 21st, we would start feeding on the 28th. Where does that leave us? That leaves us with seven days of nothing to do. Once again, here we are in the state of "Hurry up and wait". Patience is a virtue? Tomorrow, Nikki, Ben and I are going canoeing, which should be good. After that, who knows what. Maybe I'll make my way to the arts and crafts building at the camp and make some god's eyes, or maybe I'll make a candle. I suddenly feel as if I'm nine and at Camp Icagowan again.
The strangest thing about this trip is that I feel completely different this time out. Last year, whenever I left New York, not once did I feel homesick or want to quickly return home. This time, though, it's different. Raleigh must have put its hooks in me, because for some odd reason, I'm missing it. Work must commence immediately, because idle hands are the devil's handywork. I'll stop with the expressions now.
Currently listening :
Hootenanny
By The Replacements
Release date: 2008-04-22
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Monday, June 16, 2008
Off I Go Again!
Current mood: stressed
I must have known that I would never work at the country club, because I just kept on putting them off. I knew something was about to happen, I just didn't know when. In the end, I knew I wouldn't be happy working at the country club. Too big, and not creative in the least bit. I just had this feeling that something was about to appear that would better suit me - and it did.
I received the call from Kerry on Friday. Rothbury is another jam-band festival (God, how many are there???) in Rothbury, MI. Never been there, but I'm sure it's nice. Every single place that I've been to for these festivals usually ends up being amazing. Lots of pristine land with trees galore and usually some sort of water source. This site seems to be relatively close to Lake Michigan, which I haven't seen in about ten years. It's not my favorite of the great lakes, but it's up there - Lake Superior being, well, um, superior.
Presumably I leave on Wednesday, but then again, it might be Thursday or Friday that I leave. Hopefully, it's Wednesday, because quite frankly, I'm bored. Pluto can only provide so much entertainment. I need to work, and this is the best possible scenario. I'll be gone a little over a month. I can come back to Raleigh, pay my rent through September and find that Southern style bungalow of my dreams. It's going to happen. I swear.
See you in a month or so.
Currently listening :
Break Up Break Down
By The Reigning Sound
Release date: 2001-05-15
8:42 AM - 9 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Don’t Put Off What You Can...
Current mood: hot
How does that saying go? Something about putting off today, something, blah, blah, blah. Okay, so I've officially been in Raleigh exactly thirty-one days. Who knew!?! It's all been such a whirlwind since I've been here, and frankly, a lot of the memories are slipping through the cracks. This is because of various reasons, but I won't go into that. I still do like it here an awful lot, but eventually I'll have to face the facts and go out and buy a car. Oh, woe is me.
As of last week, I received one firm job offer, and one tentative offer - the tentatative offer of course looking much more desirable. Isn't that always the case? The firm job offer, as it so happens to be, is at a country club here in Raleigh. Well. A country-club isn't exactly the end all, be all in epicurian delights, but it will have to do for the time-being. Actually the country club was hinging on my drug-test results, which of course I put off for a few days. Yes, I admit, I am very good at procrastination, but especially when it involves urinating in a cup. Um, just saying. Drug test cleared. No PCP or heroine in the old system, so all systems go to make grilled chicken breast for affluent Raleighites. Wait, is that what they're called? Raleighites? Sounds good to me. Grilled chicken breast, on the other hand, not so much. But alas, I'm sure there's plenty of it in my future. Ugh.
The funny thing is, that while I was holding off on the drug test, I suddenly received a couple of calls regarding backstage catering. I also met a friend of my roommates who is a chef and knows of a high-end restaurant that's opening soon where he could get me work. Well, isn't that ironic? We'll see what happens, though. Also, you never know. Maybe I'll just want to settle into a job here in beautiful Raleigh, buy a house and never leave again. They'll have to do something about this heat, though. Once again, just saying.
Currently listening :
Static Transmission
By Steve Wynn
Release date: 2003-06-24
3:55 PM - 3 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Hook, Line and Sinker
Current mood: content
It's official. I've found a place to live, and actually move what amounts to be a small portion of my belongings into an apartment that I've never even seen. I have been to the neighborhood, though, so I guess that counts for something. I've even met my rommate, but I haven't met Pluto the pug, yet.
It appears that everybody knows one another in beautiful Raleigh. I can go to Slim's on any random night, and find pretty much the same people there time and time again. It's not necesarilly a bad thing, although it does feel like I'm on an episode of Cheers at times. It's a good thing that I've liked 99% of the people that I've met here.
Next step, to find a job, and then go back to Brooklyn to pick up the rest of my stuff. That should be interesting. Who wants to go on a road trip to and from Brooklyn?
Currently listening :
Electric Children
By The Monkeywrench
Release date: 2000-04-04
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Don’t Jump!
Current mood: knighted
A new abode has just about been acquired. Without going into too many details, I am more than pleased by this prospect. Now to break it to my buddy Pluto. I hope he takes it well.
John Mayer at Alltel Pavilion went smooth as glass. Well, not really in the beginning. Getting there was somewhat of a nightmare, given the state of mass transit in the fair city of Raleigh. My call time was 8:30 a.m., which in New York would be no problem at all. Actually, anywhere in the Northeast it wouldn't be a problem, but here in Raleigh, that's not the case. I gave myself two and a half hours to get there on time. Yes, two and a half hours. Yes, I did get there on time, but not exactly without difficulty. I jumped on the 2 bus from my house and made my way downtown to Moore Transit Station. No sweat. Fifteen minutes and I was there. I took an early bus so I could guarantee that I would make the 7:00 transfer to the 5 bus, which according to the CAT website would get me to my destination at 8:18. Perfect, right? Well, all I have to say to that is never rely on the CAT website for any sort of information. I did arrive on time at Moore Station. I even had enough time to find some coffee. I had a lovely Cafe Americano from Raleigh Times, but I digress.
While on the bus, I noticed that they weren't calling out the stops as they sometimes do. Seeing as it was beginning to look as if I were out in the country (or at least the yards were getting bigger), I approached the bus driver to see if my stop was coming up. Why yes it was. I then asked which direction Alltel was, and she says, "My goodness. You have a long way to go from here. You should have taken the 18." Ah, yes. The tried and true 18. Yeah right. Thanks, CAT website.
I got off at my stop and proceeded down the road. Having lived in New York for ten years, I'm definitely accustomed to walking long distances. According to the CAT website, I had approximately a mile and a half to walk. In New York terms that would be about thirty blocks. Herald Square to the East Village -- easy. What the directions didn't say is that about a quarter mile from my destination, I would come across a freeway overpass, and one without any sort of sidewalk or barrier in the least bit. I approached the overpass, and immediately said, "No fucking way." Yes, I even said it out loud. I walked around to see if there could be another way over the freeway. No dice. So, I finally made the embarrasing call to my new employer and explained my situation. Beat and Tony came to the rescue and I made it to work right on time!
I thought, oh great. This is how my day is beginning? Isn't that terrific? Well, I got in the kitchen, and immediately turned things around, and much to my delight, my somewhat traumatic journey turned into what might have been one of the best career moves of my life. I kid you not. Without going into too much (I am superstitious, after all) I see many great opportunities on my horizon. Well, either that, or I'm going to become a mass transportation lobbyist for the city of Raleigh. Hmm.
Off to Greensboro I go!
Currently listening :
Highway 61 Revisited
By Bob Dylan
Release date: 2004-06-01
3:31 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Idle Hands Parte Deux
Current mood: intense
Ah, Raleigh. By the looks of the calendar, I've technically been here for a total of three and one-half months. Granted I wasn't actually here for two of them, but...Now to figure out what to do with Raleigh. Some things in the works; First, but not necesarilly, to find a new abode. I will take my time with this, and if something comes about that is absolutely perfect, I'm sure it will happen. It must. After said abode has been acquired, I must find some relatively stable work, especially now that the festival season is mostly over. There is a work agenda on the horizon, but more on that later. And finally, I should probably find some sort of vehicle to get me to and from said stable work. Oh God! Not that! Actually, I'm thinking that a bike might be even better, but that would only be if I lived a little closer to downtown. Cruising down Capital Blvd. on a bicycle at 3:00 in the morning just doesn't seem that appealing to me for some reason. Call me crazy.
Back to the topic of stable work. John Maher? Is that what's next on the agenda? Doesn't he do that "You're Beautiful" song that I hate so much? Oh God, again. After that, some gig in beautiful Greensboro (Is it? I've never been.) with Paul McCartney's Son and some guy who at one time won American Idol. Oh God, part three. So be it. It's work, is it not? Now if only I could figure out how to pull the resources together to start my OWN business. Wouldn't that be grand? Yes it would.
Currently listening :
Double Nickels on the Dime
By Minutemen
Release date: 1990-10-25
1:27 PM - 4 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Hey! You’re Not the Boss of Me!
Current mood: apathetic
I've returned from my most recent little jaunt around the South. This time, I was out feeding the Boss in both Charleston and Richmond. Yes, that's the right. The Boss, as in Mr. Springsteen and his E Street communards. It was a grueling five day run, but once again, I made it through. I returned extremely exhausted, but unscathed in the end. Bloodied, but unbowed, if you will.
My first stop was Charleston, SC. Considering that I had never seen Charleston before and that my new employer wasn't even in town yet, I decided to seek a cab to go check out the town. At first, people seemed somewhat unfriendly and distrustful. Maybe they smelled the Yankee on me. I asked the people at Greyhound desk for a cab number, and without even looking up at me, I was told that a number was not available. I asked someone in the front of the building, and they looked at me like I was insane and told me that they didn't have a number. A very large woman, with several children in tow overheard me, and finally was able to give me a number for a cab. That of course was after she asked me twenty questions about where I was going. Good, God! I just want to catch a cab. Did it have to be so difficult? Apparently so. I finally got a hold of a cab company, and then they asked me twenty questions as well. Then there was the cab that pulled up from a different company that wouldn't even let me in his cab. According to the Greyhound attendant, "He only picks up men from the station." Clearly I wasn't able to help him with that, so I let him go on his merry way.
Once I made it downtown, the cab driver dropped me at a bustling little seafood place, right on the harbor - the name of which escapes me. Something Ferry, so I'm guessing it at one time was a ferry station. Quick, aren't I? I bellied up to the bar, as I normally do, retrieved a menu and wine list from the bartender, and proceeded to order what I would call a mediocre, at best, meal. It consisted of a doughy and somewhat flavorless crab cake, and a tuna steak with a charred tomato sauce, sauteed green beans and dirty rice. Even the bartender at this establishment was mediocre, although he did buy me a shot at the end. Along with my tuna steak, I ordered a glass of red zinfandel, something that I would deem as an appropriate wine selection. To this, the bartender responded by sucking air through his teeth and saying, "Oh, I don't know if I would do that," as if I were about to throw rocks through the window. The other bartender backed me up on my choice, and all systems were go for the glass of red zinfandel. Kids today, I tell you. Hasn't anybody ever told him that the customer is always right? Hmm.
I made my way back to the Red Roof Inn in some foul smelling cab with the surliest of surly cab drivers. You would think this all would make me feel at home, being from New York, but not today. Today, it was merely a cab ride with an asshole cab driver that smelled like he shat himself. I made it back in one piece to find that my co-workers had just arrived at the hotel. I introduced myself, and straight to bed I went. We had a 4:15 a.m. call in the parking lot, and it was now 12:30 a.m. Yikes!
4:15 a.m. came quickly, and there I was with Emma, John and Aaron in the parking lot, as commanded to do. We jumped in the van and found ourselves at the Charleston Coliseum to go through the usual procedure of unloading the trucks and setting up the kitchen and dining room. We were short handed, and seeing as I had never worked for this company before, they had no idea that I'm a chef. For all they knew, I was a master sommelier. Well, as luck should have it, their dishwasher of three years quit about one hour before they were supposed to depart from Asheville. So, on top of setting up the buffet line, making all of the five hundred gallons of coffee and filling the refrigerator with beverages, the great task of washing dishes was bestowed upon me. Yes, I will do dishes when I work for Kerry or any other employer, but for twenty hours straight??? Probably not. It's true. I did dishes for approximately twenty hours that day. At one point, my employer found out what my role for Kerry actually is, and he was extremely apologetic and seemingly grateful, but that didn't change the fact that I still did dishes for twenty hours. So be it. Once again, I got through it, and then moved on to the next day.
We finally exited the coliseum at 2:30 a.m. and went straight back to the hotel. We were to sleep in until check out, which was noon. I woke up at about 11:15, took a quick shower, and then we got a call around 11:55 from Jim telling us that he extended our check out until 1:00. Thank for the heads up, guy. I decided that I was going to walk around the highway area and see if I could rustle up some cash and maybe some food. For some reason I woke up famished, and I made it my number one priority to get food in my stomach. I traipsed over to the Kangaroo Mart to get some cash, and then made my way back across the highway to the Waffle House to order my Texas Turkey Melt sandwich and some cheesy grits. Oh, and of course some coffee. I sat and ate my sandwich while I watched the Waffle House employee drama unfold, and then made my way back to the hotel. Jim had called and told me that they already left to go to IHOP, and said that he would pick me up at the hotel, so there I waited. Back to IHOP, and then in the van we went to make our way up to Richmond.
Seeing as it was Aaron's birthday, it seemed fitting that we all go out for some food and drinks once we hit the town. John opted out, so it was me, Aaron and Emma. We jumped in the van and made our way downtown. We finally found our way to some sort of ale house that was recommended. Once again, we were served mediocre food, and it was overpriced. We had some serviceable calamari with a corn salsa and cilantro aioli, both of which could have had much done to them to make better. I had a Crab BLT, which was basically a flashy tuna sandwich with some bacon on it. They did have a pretty impressive beer selection, although going through their beer menu was a little bit like searching through the Library of Congress.
Emma, as planned, made her way back to the hotel, and Aaron and I headed towards a part of town that was recommended to us by the name of "The Bottom". I'm not quite sure why it was called "The Bottom", but I'm guessing that it's in reference to some hill that must have been near by. We popped our heads in a couple of bars, and immediately decided that we had to move on to something a little bit more lively. We then found ourselves at some sort of Irish pub with a spaced out bartender and a lively, mixed crowd. We ordered our Jameson's and our Newcastle, and then suddenly found that the bartender had turned off the music and instead turned on some movie. We decided that wasn't quite our speed, so we quickly finished our beers and made our way down to another bar, of which the name escapes me. It was a little, arty, punk-rock bar with lots of mannequins and skulls and various other knick-knacks scattered about; the sort of place with which I'm definitely familiar. We were greeted by a somewhat friendly, red-headed bartender by the name of Chris. We ordered our shots and beers and repeated the process several times until the bar closed at 2:00 a.m. Not a good thing, considering that we had another 4:15 a.m. call, but like it hasn't been done before. Ah, to be young.
3:45 a.m. came about. I woke up, jumped in the shower for fifteen seconds, and rolled out to the parking lot. This time around, we had some local crew, so my dishwashing services were no longer required. Thank you. There must be a God. The morning went by without incident, except one small thing. Aaron never got out of bed, therefore, he never made it into work. Jim was livid to say the least, but what were we to do? The only thing to do was to press on and make the best of it. We rolled the truck and van into the building, unloaded the stuff and set up as usual. I made the five-hundred gallons of coffee and filled the cooler, then was instructed to go into the kitchen to help out with making lunch. Ah, back to my home turf. The menu had been made already, and I was instructed to make shepherd's pie and some minestrone soup. Usually, quite an easy task, but this time, there were problems. Go figure! At about 9:45 a.m. (I think), some electricians came into our kitchen area and informed us that we would need to shut down everything and rewire it, because we were simply drawing too much power. What??? You can't shut us down! We were in the middle of lunch, and it HAD to be up at noon. That's just the way it is. We didn't have any time to spare. Well, we had to work around it, and we just made the best of it. Luckily, at one point the Catering Coordinator came in and told us that we had another half hour. Phew. But alas, it still wasn't enough time.
We finally got our half-assed lunch out on the line at 12:45, and I have to say that it was one of my least proud culinary moments. The potatoes were undercooked, so the topping for the shepherd's pie was chewy and lumpy. The minestrone was okay, but it didn't have any pasta in it. Whatevs. It's not like production crews are exactly gourmands, but in the end, it's not how I like to operate. I prefer to put out the best food possible, but this time it just didn't happen.
We made it up at dinner time with some awesome beef tenderloin, some swordfish steaks, and a bunch of other things. I made Clarence four lobster tails and a nice big steak (as per his rider), and then we packed up the kitchen and finally headed out at 3:30 a.m.
Now I'm back in Raleigh. Next on the agenda? Who knows. I'm sure it will almost be interesting, though.
Currently listening :
Van Halen
By Van Halen
Release date: 2000-09-19
9:23 AM - 1 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, August 11, 2008
Some pictures!
Current mood: tested
Yeah, that's right. I posted some pictures from the last two months on the road. I can't believe all the ground that I covered over the past couple of months, and to think, some of my friends are still going. I think I'm glad to be back in Raleigh, but part of me almost wishes that I was still on the move. That time will come again, I presume.
Currently reading :
Delicate Prey: And Other Stories
By Paul Bowles
Release date: 2006-06-13
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Thursday, August 07, 2008
Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch
Current mood: indescribable
It's been almost two months since I left Raleigh, and I think I'm finally ready to return. It's been an interesting summer, to say the least. Where have my travels taken me, and what have I been doing? Well, let me see. It all started out, of course, in beautiful Portland, ME, but I already told y'all about that already. Then we made our way across the country in the trucks to lovely Rothbury, MI for our first harrowing festival experience. That was a tough one, but we made it through it -- barely. But we did make it through, and immediately after we had to haul ass to Masontown, WV for sketch fest, 2008. Okay, it's not really called Sketch Fest, but it certainly should be. It's actually called All Good, and despite its idyllic surroundings, it's filled with nothing but drug fueled, nitrous tank toting, neo-hippies. Woo hoo! Good times? Hardly, although when I'm there, I just stay out of the mix and stick to the people that I know and love. Although, that being said, initially I was so exhausted from Rothbury that interacting with people at first was somewhat of a difficult challenge. Once again, we made it through and then for a break.
Off the caravan went for the great Professional Catering Services, Inc., decision by committee party. We discussed the options - well not we, but they discussed the options - and finally ended up at a campground in the New River Gorge, all with the intentions of going white-water rafting. Uh, no thanks. I don't know what happened over the years, because at one point in my life I would have probably gone along, but this time I wasn't feeling it. I was tired, and cranky, and I just wanted a bed and maybe some good food and company. I wanted to chill, so instead of going with the group, I drove Veronica and Nicky to Staunton, VA so somebody could pick them up to go home for a few days. Definitely a good call on my behalf, because on the return trip I had three much needed hours to myself. I returned to find the party had just started. The fire was going, food was cooking, and I was far more relaxed than I had been when I left in the morning.
Good times were had that evening, including a little jaunt into the woods and stretching out in wet grass by a frog filled pond under a full moon. I had the scratches all up and down my arms in the morning to prove it. Then, finally at about two or three in the morning, I made my way back to our cabin. Despite having no bedding to speak of, I was looking forward to lying down on my little bed, with tablecloths to keep me warm. But alas, my plans were quickly thwarted. I went to the door and discovered six Asian women had taken over the cabin, despite the fact that all of my stuff was still in the room. Clearly there had been an administrative error. At first, of course, I was annoyed. I made my way to the truck, put on my headphones, and finally got over it all and went to sleep. I awoke at about 11:00 to find that everyone was making their way to some gas station down the road that served food. Ah, gas station food. Not exactly ideal nutrition, but sustenance was definitely in order, so I followed.
We finally made our way back on the road. We drove for a while to a lovely town by the name of Lewisburg, WV. I napped, woke up terribly cranky, and then made my way to town to have food with Lauren and Dicky - us three being the triumvirate of bitterness. I had a serviceable Irish stew and some Jameson, and then we made our way back to our house, er um, hotel.
At this point I was done with our little vacation, and was definitely ready to go back to work. Perfect, because we all jumped in the truck and finally made our way to our next destination - beautiful Floyd, VA. The thing about all of these festivals is that despite their content, they're usually set in the most beautiful surroundings. This time, our site was in the middle of the Blue Ridge mountains in Northwestern Virginia. The nice thing about Floyd Fest was that it wasn't so filled with the usual "wookie" set. It was much more family oriented, and very chill. We got through this festival with ease (well, somewhat) and all parted ways at the end.
My original intentions were to go straight back to Raleigh after all of the festival hub-bub was over. That all would have been fine, but suddenly I got a wild hair up my ass and decided that it would be a good idea to go to Chicago. I had originally set my sights on procuring a pass for Lollapalooza, but was fine with the idea of just going to Chicago. It had been almost fifteen years since I had been back, and I thought since I was going there it would be nice to take a little side trip to Minneapolis - the Motherland.
Monica, Melyssa and I jumped in Monica's car and made our way to Chicago, with one planned stop in Charleston, WV, where we would be dropping off Melyssa. The plan was to drop her off and then hit the road again, but instead we all decided to stay in Charleston for the night. Too much fun, we had. We made our way to Sam's, a bar that I had been to when I last was in Charleston working for Kenny Chesney. My friend Dave wasn't working, which was too bad, but we had a great time, nonetheless. Many shots of tequila later, we continued to cause trouble by getting a large group of people to go to a strip club, which we were denied entrance to. Instead, Melyssa went running across the street and proceeded to jump into a large fountain. Monica and nameless follower "A" jumped in as well. Melyssa was then wrestling with nameless follower "A", all of which I have captured in photo form. We then made our way back to the hotel, carried on with stories to tell and things to share and then passed out. After one failed attempt to get Melyssa on the bus in the morning, we found our way to the mall (yes, the mall) to have some food. Food was consumed, pictures were taken in the photo booth, then we dropped Melyssa off at the bus station. We bid her farewell, and then made our way onto the freeway. Finally at about 10:00 p.m., we made our way into Chicago.
I stayed at Monica and Billy's place the first night. She showed me the neighborhood, we had Mexican food and then we made our way to one of the local bars. Good times, and more shots. Oh snap! After our many shots and successfully closing the bar, we made our way to Billy's Mom's house, where his brother and a group of his friends were sitting around smoking cigarettes, drinking beer and playing poker. We had some bratwurst and then made our way back to Billy's to drink wine and more (yes, more) tequila. Oh snap, again.
The next night I stayed at a hotel on LaSalle and Division. It was one of those transient style hotels. You know, the kind where you pick up TB. I was having a moment where I felt that it was necessary to experience that sort of a place, just once in my life, and ye know, it wasn't so bad. Nobody bothered me, and I had some much needed privacy. The next night I stayed at Marquis' house. Marquis is a friend of Porkchop's who I had met once before in Brooklyn. He's a bit of a nut, but I figured why not see Chicago from a native's perspective. I stayed there a couple of nights and then decided to make my way up to Minneapolis.
A visit to Minneapolis, of course, was way overdue. I took the Amtrak up there, which is always awesome. I love taking trains. I jumped into a cab and made my way to Chris' house. Seemingly not much has changed in the Minny. There are a few new restaurants, but most everything seems to be the same. After I arrived, we made our way to some bar where Chris' sister, Carol was DJing. At that point I felt like I may as well have been in a different country. Chris and Carol were of course familiar, but nobody else was. There was a time when I lived in Minneapolis and would go out and knew or recognized a good portion of those in the same place. This time around, nobody was familiar. Same thing happened the next night when I went out with Wendy to see Witchcraft. We went to the Triple Rock (a place that popped up after I moved away), and not one person was familiar. I guess I've been away for awhile.
Seeing as I had tickets to see The Melvins in Chicago on Monday, I had to high-tail it back to Chi-town, early on Monday morning. Wendy and I made our way over to Mickey's Diner in St. Paul, and then she dropped me off at the train station. While in transit, I rested a bit, and then made plans to meet my friend Patrick for Ethiopian food. This time, instead of the TB hotel or Marquis' place, I decided to upgrade to some hotel on the South side near Chinatown. I plunked my stuff down, cleaned myself up and headed up to Belmont and Clark to meet Patrick. While taking the train, suddenly a huge thunderstorm erupted, and apparently several tornadoes touched down in the Chicago area. As I guessed, Patrick was on the platform having just got off the same train. We waited the storm out and then made our way to have our Ethiopian meal, which, by the way, was pretty awesome. It wasn't the best Ethiopian that I've had, but it was definitely stand-up.
After a failed train ride attempt, we finally sensibly grabbed a cab to head to the Double Door in Wicker Park. We had missed Big Business, which was too bad, but were just in time for the Melvins, who were as usual, pretty awesome. There were weak moments when they did the reinvented Melvins stuff, but overall it was a good show. I wasn't sure how Patrick would receive it, but apparently he enjoyed it – and quite a bit. For this, I am glad.
One more night in town, and then I would make my way with Jared to ride with him to Asheville, NC, which is where I am right now. Tuesday night I hung out with Marquis and Patrick a bit, and then early, early, early in the morning, Jared and I made our way to Asheville. My original intentions were to leave Asheville as soon as I arrived, but I instead decided to stay the night. Three nights later, I'm still here. Not sure how that happened, but it did. Tomorrow morning, I will finally get on a bus and head down to Concord to go to a wedding with my friend Gus. That should be interesting. I will be in Concord overnight and then off to Raleigh I go! Ah, good ol' Raleigh. Seeing as I've spent most of my money already, I will need to go to work pretty much right away. The good news is that I already have an interview set up for Monday, plus I'm going to talk to a woman about decorating cookies for her gift basket company. That should be good.
Until next time…
Currently listening :
Focus Level
By Endless Boogie
Release date: 2008-06-17
8:22 PM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, June 23, 2008
Six Word Memoir
Current mood: apathetic
Writing makes me miss home more. There, Ben. There's my six word memoir. One of many from tonight.
I need for this summer to pass quickly. Here it is, day four of being in Michigan, and frankly, I'm still not feeling it. We actually started working today, and there were some challenges along the way. First of all, how do we procure twenty plus cases of tempeh when we're in a town of four hundred and sixteen people? Next, how do we get a four top range to cook eggs for nine hundred people? Actually, these are the sort of things that I enjoy doing. I could spend hours researching resources, especially when I'm faced with the challenge of knowing that there are NO resources in the immediate vicinity. I mean, come on. Most people in the world don't even know what tempeh is, let alone where to find it. I did get lost on my way to the grocery store today, and that was actually quite enjoyable. It's sort of nice to see the Midwestern landscape again. Rolling hills amidst flat fields of corn and soybeans. And did I mention the cottonwood trees? I haven't seen a cottonwood in years!
Tomorrow, the Sysco truck comes in! Yay! We can finally cook! Things are looking up, and hopefully I will no longer be bored.
Currently listening :
The Number of the Beast
By Iron Maiden
Release date: 2002-03-26
8:14 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Idle Hands
Current mood: bored
I arrived in Portland on Wednesday morning to find that one of our trucks was not running, and that we would of course have to wait until it was fixed before we could leave. Story of the backstage catering world, I'll have you know. It's never like you can just show up and things start happening. It's more like a constant state of "hurry up and wait". Not my favorite state of existence, but I've learned to live with it.
The truck was finally road worthy, we brought it back to the warehouse, and loaded it up with all of our equipment. It's actually quite the process to get everything onto the trucks. Everything that we use to cook on the road is packed in road cases, just like what bands use for their equipment. Everything has to be packed just so, otherwise a. not everything will fit, and b. the truck will be off balance. We finally got the truck packed, and off we went, and only seven hours behind schedule.
I had only been up for thirty-six hours at this point, but surprisingly, I felt pretty good. I guess I was just excited about working again. We made our way down the Maine turnpike, jumped onto the Mass turnpike, and made the decision somewhere around Worcester to stop in Lowell, MA. Lowell is about a half-hour outside of Boston. A lovely little New England town that at one time was known for a lot of heroin traficking. This fact always sort of threw me for a loop, because on the surface, Lowell is the last place where you would suspect something like that happens. I guess looks can be deceiving. Lowell, is also where Green Magnet School were from, but I digress.
We spent the night at Doubletree, Kerry's (my boss) home away from home. Clearly there was some sort of event going on. Lots of high school to early college age students were in the hallways and entryways of the hotel. Lots of drama in one group, which of course, witnessing this makes me glad that I'm no longer that age.
I ate some Chinese food from Kerry's favorite place in Lowell, which consisted of the largest chicken wings I've ever seen in my life, and some hot and sour soup. I made my way back to my room, called for my wake up call, read about three words from my book and immediately passed out. I woke up three minutes before my wake up call (which was 6:00 a.m), jumped out of bed and readied myself for the long drive ahead of us. As usual, we met in the lobby, had a little breakfast and finally were on the road by 7:00 a.m. We drove down the Mass turnpike to New York and drove across to a place somewhere near Schenectady, which is where we were picking up Danielle, who was also working for us. The interesting thing about Danielle is that at one time, she was a student of mine at the culinary school. I didn't recognize her at first, but then I remembered of course once she pushed my memory.
Back in the trucks/van we went and down the road to a Red Roof Inn, somewhere outside of Cleveland. Oh, Ohio. Let's just say that Ohio is NOT a place that I plan on living - ever. I don't know what it is (or isn't) about Ohio, but there's something about it that pushes me away. It just seems completely void of culture, much in the same way as say Indiana or maybe Missouri. But on the other hand, some really great music has come out of Ohio, which has always perplexed me. I suppose it's just a matter of...what is the saying? Oh yes. Necessity is the mother of invention.
We got on the road the next day at 8:00 a.m. and made our way to Rothbury, MI. We finally arrived at the Double J ranch in Rothbury at about 5:00 in the evening. We made our way to the site to find our tents were up, but of course, as is always the case, the floors weren't built. Then, we find out later that they want to change our feed dates, and instead of feeding on Saturday the 21st, we would start feeding on the 28th. Where does that leave us? That leaves us with seven days of nothing to do. Once again, here we are in the state of "Hurry up and wait". Patience is a virtue? Tomorrow, Nikki, Ben and I are going canoeing, which should be good. After that, who knows what. Maybe I'll make my way to the arts and crafts building at the camp and make some god's eyes, or maybe I'll make a candle. I suddenly feel as if I'm nine and at Camp Icagowan again.
The strangest thing about this trip is that I feel completely different this time out. Last year, whenever I left New York, not once did I feel homesick or want to quickly return home. This time, though, it's different. Raleigh must have put its hooks in me, because for some odd reason, I'm missing it. Work must commence immediately, because idle hands are the devil's handywork. I'll stop with the expressions now.
Currently listening :
Hootenanny
By The Replacements
Release date: 2008-04-22
2:53 PM - 4 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, June 16, 2008
Off I Go Again!
Current mood: stressed
I must have known that I would never work at the country club, because I just kept on putting them off. I knew something was about to happen, I just didn't know when. In the end, I knew I wouldn't be happy working at the country club. Too big, and not creative in the least bit. I just had this feeling that something was about to appear that would better suit me - and it did.
I received the call from Kerry on Friday. Rothbury is another jam-band festival (God, how many are there???) in Rothbury, MI. Never been there, but I'm sure it's nice. Every single place that I've been to for these festivals usually ends up being amazing. Lots of pristine land with trees galore and usually some sort of water source. This site seems to be relatively close to Lake Michigan, which I haven't seen in about ten years. It's not my favorite of the great lakes, but it's up there - Lake Superior being, well, um, superior.
Presumably I leave on Wednesday, but then again, it might be Thursday or Friday that I leave. Hopefully, it's Wednesday, because quite frankly, I'm bored. Pluto can only provide so much entertainment. I need to work, and this is the best possible scenario. I'll be gone a little over a month. I can come back to Raleigh, pay my rent through September and find that Southern style bungalow of my dreams. It's going to happen. I swear.
See you in a month or so.
Currently listening :
Break Up Break Down
By The Reigning Sound
Release date: 2001-05-15
8:42 AM - 9 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Don’t Put Off What You Can...
Current mood: hot
How does that saying go? Something about putting off today, something, blah, blah, blah. Okay, so I've officially been in Raleigh exactly thirty-one days. Who knew!?! It's all been such a whirlwind since I've been here, and frankly, a lot of the memories are slipping through the cracks. This is because of various reasons, but I won't go into that. I still do like it here an awful lot, but eventually I'll have to face the facts and go out and buy a car. Oh, woe is me.
As of last week, I received one firm job offer, and one tentative offer - the tentatative offer of course looking much more desirable. Isn't that always the case? The firm job offer, as it so happens to be, is at a country club here in Raleigh. Well. A country-club isn't exactly the end all, be all in epicurian delights, but it will have to do for the time-being. Actually the country club was hinging on my drug-test results, which of course I put off for a few days. Yes, I admit, I am very good at procrastination, but especially when it involves urinating in a cup. Um, just saying. Drug test cleared. No PCP or heroine in the old system, so all systems go to make grilled chicken breast for affluent Raleighites. Wait, is that what they're called? Raleighites? Sounds good to me. Grilled chicken breast, on the other hand, not so much. But alas, I'm sure there's plenty of it in my future. Ugh.
The funny thing is, that while I was holding off on the drug test, I suddenly received a couple of calls regarding backstage catering. I also met a friend of my roommates who is a chef and knows of a high-end restaurant that's opening soon where he could get me work. Well, isn't that ironic? We'll see what happens, though. Also, you never know. Maybe I'll just want to settle into a job here in beautiful Raleigh, buy a house and never leave again. They'll have to do something about this heat, though. Once again, just saying.
Currently listening :
Static Transmission
By Steve Wynn
Release date: 2003-06-24
3:55 PM - 3 Comments - 1 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Hook, Line and Sinker
Current mood: content
It's official. I've found a place to live, and actually move what amounts to be a small portion of my belongings into an apartment that I've never even seen. I have been to the neighborhood, though, so I guess that counts for something. I've even met my rommate, but I haven't met Pluto the pug, yet.
It appears that everybody knows one another in beautiful Raleigh. I can go to Slim's on any random night, and find pretty much the same people there time and time again. It's not necesarilly a bad thing, although it does feel like I'm on an episode of Cheers at times. It's a good thing that I've liked 99% of the people that I've met here.
Next step, to find a job, and then go back to Brooklyn to pick up the rest of my stuff. That should be interesting. Who wants to go on a road trip to and from Brooklyn?
Currently listening :
Electric Children
By The Monkeywrench
Release date: 2000-04-04
1:32 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
April 7, 2008 - May 28, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Moment
Current mood: confused
I'm having a moment where I think that I want to move back to NYC. Wait. Hold that. Everybody that I've met tonight is FROM NYC. Or close to it. Whatevs.
Currently listening :
Invisible Jet
By Black Helicopter
Release date: 2006-06-20
12:43 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Monday, May 26, 2008
The Kindness of Strangers...
Current mood: confident
So much has happened over the past month and a half, that it's been almost impossible for me to sort it all out in my head and write about it. I've decided that since I have a little quiet time, all by my lonesome, that now's the time to get it all out on paper - or on computer screen, as it were.
I've now been in Raleigh, North Carolina for two weeks and one day. How did this happen? Probably the main reason that this has happened is that I've met some people that have been so kind as to let me stay with them, even though I just met them a little over a week ago. Many thanks to Carlos and Joey for everything that they've helped me with in the past week. Beyond that, though, there's something rather magnetic about Raleigh, I must admit. I didn't really feel the same way about Wilmington and Charlotte when I traveled to both places to see the Heroine Sheiks, though. I did, however feel very homesick for Minneapolis having seen people from there that I had not seen in many, many years. As I lugged my stuff through Charlotte, downtown to the Greyhound station, I had my first moment of confusion and anxiety over the fact that I was considering moving to North Carolina. I seriously considered while waiting for my bus to Raleigh to actually just go to Minneapolis instead. In retrospect, I'm glad that didn't happen. Moving to a town like Raleigh is just the sort of challenge that I need at this point in my life. I'll probably go back to Minneapolis at one point, but that point isn't right now. We'll see how I feel about that in August when it's 5,000 degrees and 80,000 percent humidity. Ugh.
Things are starting to happen. I have two interviews this week, and even have an almost definite lead on a place to live. I won't say it's definite until I actually have paid the rent and have a set of keys in my hands. One can never tell what people will do at the last minute. I've even met a bunch of people, most of whom I like quite a bit. People are quite warm, inviting and helpful here, but I think I mentioned that in my last blog.
My next step, to get everyone in New York to move down here.
Currently listening :
Black Rainbow
By 400 Blows
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Friday, May 16, 2008
The Raleigh Vortex
Current mood: adventurous
I seem to have found myself in Raleigh, NC. Not only have I found myself in this lovely little city/town, but I'm actually considering moving here! Where is the sense in this? I've lived in quite a few places, but Raleigh? Let me see now. Minneapolis, Los Angeles, New York City, uh Raleigh? Actually, it's kind of nice here, and with my intentions of being on the road all of the time, what does it matter where I live, as long as it's affordable. Ultimately I do need a place to hang my hat, do I not? Plus, the people that I've met have all been super friendly and very helpful, a quality that New York sometimes lacks. One person actually gave me written directions to a club that were so detailed that I thought he was writing a novel. Now that's service. On top of that, it seems to have somewhat of a music scene, which is always of great importance, I'll have you know.
Tonight's plans include a meeting with Jim to see about getting more tour work. Hopefully something will pan out. Y'all keep your fingers crossed, ye hear. Also, I'm going to the Pour House to see a new friend's band by the name of the Bleeding Hearts. Not sure what to expect, but I'm sure they'll be a lot better than last night's Helmet show. Why won't Page go away? And why did I pay $20.00 to see the show? To say they were boring wouldn't come even close to describing how bad it was. Caltrop and ASG were good, though. Caltrop were sort of, how shall I say, mathy, psych-metal. ASG made me think of The Adolescents, but only if they were a metal band. There was another band by the name of H.O.W. that were quite frankly an embarassment. Enough on that. Off to Mecca I go to sample what seemingly will be good simple Southern fare. Good thing I'm walking there.
Currently listening :
We Must Obey
By Fu Manchu
Release date: 2007-02-20
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Thursday, May 01, 2008
South Cackalacky
Current mood: curious
I start this segment of my tour tales sitting in my hotel room at The Hilton in Columbia, South Carolina, also known as South Cackalacky. It's raining and gray outside. Every once in awhile, to break up the insanity of living on an RV with six people, Mark and Sue will get everyone their own hotel room. I feel that it's an excellent idea, not only because it's nice to have a real bed after two weeks, but it's also nice to have some time to your self. It's a no brainer, really.
It's been an action packed week, here in South Carolina. Here are some of the highlights:
As I told you before, we found the oldest bar in South Carolina, and it just so happened to be right down the street from the stadium parking lot. The second night that we were there (or was it the third), we made our way to another bar in the neighborhood called the Loose Cockaboose. It was me, Dan, Steve and Tom Cat. Out with the boys again, as if that's going to change over the next five months. We had a great time, shooting the shit, talking shop, and fitting in a few drinks as well. We even met the bartenders, the owner, and some of the locals while there. That's the thing about South Carolina, everyone's very friendly, but often some can be a little too friendly. It can be a little weird around there as well, what, with all of the racist, closed minded sentiment that I hear all day. At about 2:30 a.m., we made our way back to the RV. We had a 6:30 a.m. call, and our numbers were going well over two hundred because the rest of the crew would be arriving, and rest was much needed.
A couple of new people had arrived the day before to "try-out" for a job, and also help out for the show. They both seemed alright at first, but as the first day progressed, I realized that one in particular was definitely not okay. As a matter of fact, he was an outright pig. Not only was he a pig, but he was a pig from Lodi, NJ. The worst pig of them all. Now I know that all the guys that I work with are, well, they're guys, but this guy took it to another level. Not only that, but he was super lazy and arrogant. Such awesome qualities, I say. Well, we got through it, and let's just say he won't come back. Either will two of the dishwashers that were there to help. Rodney, one of the local people that helped us out said that it was like the TV show Survivor, and I was the one that kicked them all off the island. Obviously I didn't fire them (not my job), but I didn't exactly hold back my opinion of them either. So be it.
One of the nights that we were here, Dan and I decided to go out to the Five Points area of Columbia. It's where all of the nightlife is for the city. We first went to a bar called Delaney's, which was an Irish Pub. It was alright, but we wanted to find something a little more lively, and perhaps someplace with some live music. Our friendly bartender suggested a couple of places that were off the beaten path, one being The Wig, and the other being Art Bar. Wow. Yet another Art Bar? It kind of makes you wonder how many Art Bars there are in the world, doesn't it? I would describe Art Bar in Columbia as a rock n roll bar that looks like it came off the set of 1984, mixed with an Indian restaurant on 6th Street in NYC. I only say that because there were an awful lot of Christmas lights strung up around the bar. Festive in an arty sort of way. We ordered our beer, chatted with the bartender a bit, when suddenly a guy from across the bar was waving at us. I had no clue as to why he was waving at me, but I waved back anyway. The bartender informed us that they were working for Kenny Chesney. As it turns out, they were part of Kenny's video crew, and they recognized me from catering. Jay and Josh are both from Nashville, and I believe Jay is the Director of the video crew. I think Josh is a camera operator. Nice guys. We chatted a bit, and then they went on their way. We exited shortly after.
Finally on Saturday, the show came about. It seemed as if we had been in Columbia for a month at that point, and we were all obviously sick of being there. The doors opened sometime around 2:00 p.m., and in rolled the 44,000 Kenny Chesney fans. There they all were, hootin' and hollerin', in their cowboy hats and boots. Occasionally I would go out to the backstage area to check out what was happening, and I of course was greatly amused. It was a sea of rednecks, all singing along to the songs, dirty dancing, and just generally causing a ruckus. Yes, a ruckus. Kenny hit the stage at about 9:00 or so. I didn't see the opening, but apparently what happens is that he comes up on a hydraulic lift from below the stage. It is a very dramatic entrance, according to Steve. Well, this time, something went wrong. Apparently Kenny's foot got caught between the lift and the actual stage, essentially crushing his foot. Amazingly, he played through the entire set, obviously in a large amount of pain. Of course everyone was thinking the worse, and as Dan and I had burgers and beers at Jaco's I started thinking about my contingency plan if the tour was cancelled. We waited until morning and as we were preparing breakfast, we got the word that all systems were go. Proceed to Austin as planned. Amazingly, Kenny didn't break a single bone in his foot or ankle. Clearly his cowboy boots saved his foot.
Sunday was our final day to feed people, and our numbers dropped from three hundred and fifty to seventy-five. Sunday was a cake walk. Actually, despite the fact that we had the moron from New Jersey, the whole week was a cake walk. I have to say that it's really been a pleasure to work with everybody on this crew, because they're all so professional and just want to get the job done. Not only that, but they do their jobs well. It's a far cry from my last year's experience working the music festivals. This time around I definitely am not seeing hippy girls smoking pot in the dry storage truck, and for this I am thankful.
Sunday night a plan was made with my new friend, Rodney to go out to Art Bar. It was his friend's birthday, and he invited me to join them at a place called Congaree Grill in the five points area of Columbia. It was a good group of people, I must say, and I ended up having a great time. The food at Congaree Grill left something to be desired, though. I had an appetizer by the name of seafood martini, which lead me to believe that it would be chilled, and somewhat like ceviche. Not true in the least bit. It actually was more like a hot crab dip, and it was served with Texas toast. It wasn't horrible, but it definitely wasn't what I expected. For my entrée, I had shrimp and grits, but with their shrimp and grits they douse it with some sort of a balsamic sauce. It was completely overwhelmed by the flavor of the balsamic, and frankly I couldn't even eat half of it. I guess I'm somewhat of a purist when it comes to food, and often object to dishes being altered. I do enjoy innovation with food, and creativity, but sometimes some things are just better left alone. Congaree Grill's shrimp and grits is a strong case for this. After dinner, we made our way to Art Bar for more cocktails. At one point, I made a call to the boys to coerce them into joining us. Nuge (Robert) and I spoke, and he said that they all would be joining us at the bar. Bob then called me, turned the tables on me, and suggested that we join them at a place called Flying Saucer instead. I'm thinking, of course, how the hell am I going to find the Flying Saucer. Well, as it turns out, the Flying Saucer is a mere one block away. Rodney offered to escort me there, so all was fine. We made our way over to find a very drunk catering crew. Bob, Nuge and Tom Cat were all wasted, which greatly amused me. I've seen Nuge and Tom put away a few, but I've never seen Bob drink more than a beer. After a beer and a shot, we finally talked the three of them into going back to Art Bar. We made our way back to supposedly wrap up the evening, but no, there was more fun to be had. Rodney lead us to more than likely the one and only gay club in Columbia. I have to say that at this point the evening was rather blurry, but I do know that we made our way to the IHOP after that. All in all, it was an action packed evening in Columbia, SC.
Next stop, Austin, Texas.
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Monday, April 21, 2008
CT to SC
Current mood: tired
A flood of memories from a tour that I did with a little indie band back in 1996 was brought back today. We jumped in a van and had no troubles at all, the whole entire five weeks that we were on the road. Our final show was in Sioux City, Iowa. We started out, and made it as far as Colorado, when our windshield suddenly was struck by a rock, which created this huge spider web of a crack, which was pretty much threatening to implode the further that we drove. It was Sunday at about 5:00 in the morning, and had to wait until we could find a service station that could help us with our situation. We found one, but of course they didn't have a windshield. Why would they? They did have a "cousin" down the road that might be able to help us, though. We waited for said "cousin". They finally arrived, and brought us down this back road to yet another service station. We followed back woods, said cousin to their service station, somewhere in Colorado. They finally got the appropriate windshield, and were about to install it, when they decided that it would be a good idea if we moved our van so they could move a truck out of the garage. We moved the van – not a problem. They moved the truck – big problem. They actually ran over the brand new windshield! This, as you might guess, was not a good thing. We were so frustrated that we had them put the windshield in (half-assed, I might add), and then we reinforced it with duct tape. We drove away from Colorado, and made it back in LA a day and a half later, with a nicely cracked windshield, and one roll lighter on the duct tape supply.
I think of this incident, only because of what happened today (well, yesterday, now.). There we were, cruising down I-81, when suddenly it appeared as if Joe (the driver) was pulling off the road. He stops (thankfully) every once in a while, so nobody really even thought about it in the least, but as soon as he pulled over, he came back around to our trailer and announced that he had a blowout! Uh, really? Out of curiosity, a couple of us piled out of our trailer, into the parking lot of yet another Flying J, to find that the rear tire of the rear trailer had completely disengaged from the rotor, and was nowhere to be found. That's funny. It was there a few minutes ago. Joe noticed a "tire repair center" at the other side of the parking lot and pulled the rig over to the facilities. Seeing as I know nothing about putting tires onto trailers, I decided to go and have a bite to eat with Dan instead. Wise choice.
When we returned, we were informed that the something fell off the something something, and there would have to be another something put on in its place. Okay, let's do that. Well, the problem was that even though it was a "tire repair center", there was nobody there to actually replace that certain something something. Well, that's awfully convenient, isn't it? The guy did step forward and offer to call another guy in town that may have been able to help, but only after Joe ripped into him and his garage for a couple of minutes. Okay, bring the alternate guy. The guy showed up, and he was awfully nice, although I couldn't understand a word that he said. Those rural Southern accents do get me sometimes, but I digress. The only problem was that he didn't have the right size part, and seeing as it is Sunday in rural Virginia, there would be nowhere to get said part. Oh, wait. That might not be true. He says, "There is a woman that I can call that has a parts store with her husband." He tried calling her, but to no avail. He tried and tried, and then finally he was able to reach her, "What? You're in Roanoke at a funeral?" All was not lost, though. She said that her Father (or maybe it was her cousin) would be able to let him in to the store to get the parts. Perfect. Let's do that. Further incentive was thrown in when we told him that we could get him some Kenny Chesney tickets. You should have seen that guy run. I guess he likes his music. Or maybe just his cousin does. Maybe they both do. I don't know. All I do know is that it definitely it put a spark in his step when he found out that he would be able to get a couple of KC tickets for his trouble. And to think, I didn't even know who KC was until I got offered this job.
He came back, fixed the tire in mere minutes, and off we went into the sunset. We have now arrived in Columbia, SC. The trucks are unloaded, the dining area is set up for breakfast, and I'm back in my bunk ready for my 5:30 a.m. wake up.
More tales to tell.
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Sunday, April 20, 2008
Connecticut to South Carolina
Current mood: excited
I have been sleeping in a truck in a parking garage. It was parked outside of the loading dock for the Mohegan Sun Arena. We worked backstage in the kitchen, but for the most part, will be working in a kitchen that is in a trailer that is pulled behind our house. The quarters are small, and I sleep in a bunk about the size of a very large, rectangular surf board. Tis small, indeed. As a matter of fact, I am in it right now. We just left Mohegan Sun, and are headed South to Columbia, SC.
My roommates. Ha! What a funny bunch. Let's start with the kitchen. Bob is the chef. He makes the menus, he runs the kitchen. He's more or less in charge, but doesn't act like your typical chef. He's actually quite laid back, and has a pretty good sense of humor. I like him. He's from Vermont originally, and acts as such. In a nutshell, Bob is quirky, yet laid back, plus he can cook! It's never anything fancy, but damnit, it all tastes good. He also lives on a steady diet of sugar, coffee and every single caffeinated beverage under the sun, and his hands seem to be constantly shaking. Mountain Dew seems to be a steady favorite. Then there's Jeff. He's second in command. The Sous Chef, if you will. He and Bob have worked together for years, and you can tell immediately upon seeing them together. They're a very well oiled machine. Jeff is a good natured, thirty-something, originally from Louisville, KY. Jeff is hilarious, and his red hair and freckles just make him that much more funny, in a very endearing sort of way. He is a pig, though, but most men who work in kitchens are, now that I think of it. He makes no attempt to hide it, either. He loves the "C" word like no one I know. He's lewd and crude, but in a very harmless way. I see the truth, though. Next, is Dan. Dan is our salad guy. He's originally from Portland, and has that sort of Portland slacker way about him. At first I wasn't 100% sold on him, but he certainly has grown on me. I sense that he will become a good friend in the end.
After the kitchen staff, we have the front of house staff, or dining room staff, if you will. First, there's Steve. He's the owner's Nephew. He's very young, but really a great guy, and for the most part, quite mature for his age. Twenty-one? He won't be doing the entire tour with us, which is a shame, but I think he wants to go to school, so all the best to him. There's another guy by the name of Robert. Robert is from North Carolina, somewhere about an hour south of Raleigh-Durham. He's a country kid, through and through. I really enjoy Robert's company, but I'm not so sure he's going to make it on this tour, or on any tour, for that matter. I hope he surprises me by pulling through the whole thing. I watch him as he slinks from dining room to kitchen (and I do mean slink), and sometimes he looks absolutely miserable. Poor guy. And just for the record, I'm not being sarcastic with that comment. That might change, though, as my patience for moping often wears thin rather quickly. Also in the dining room is Tom, AKA Tom Cat. He's a forty something year old guy from Detroit. He's been doing the road thing since 1990. Well then. I guess that is eighteen years. Woah hey. It shows in that burned out road guy way (if you know what I mean), but I like him. He seems to enjoy life, and he's a very hard worker. What more could you ask for?
Those are my "truck mates". Now for the additional cast of characters. The non-roommates, if you will. First, there is Sue. She's the co-owner, along with her "husband", Mark. Sue is nearing sixty, and spent a good portion of her life working on boats. She started doing the backstage catering thing with Mark, because he had experience in the music industry in the security arena, and also in merchandising. People he has worked for have included Aerosmith, Michael Jackson, and many others equally as big. Oh, and speaking of big, Mark is huge, hence him having worked in the security sector. He's essentially a big, burly biker with an acerbic wit, paired with a tremendous ego. Interesting combo, I must say, but I also get the impression that he really looks out for his employees, and truly appreciates them. Sue appreciates her employees as well, but she's somewhat neurotic about everything pertaining to her business. I suppose I would be too, so I try to put myself in her shoes. Bob and Jeff do a lot of eye rolling when it comes to her. Now, a few words about Joe. Joe is our driver. He drives our "house" which is essentially a truck that's made into an RV, plus an additional trailer, which is our kitchen. He's another one from the country of North Carolina, but a little more seasoned. He has his "baby girl" back at home, but he'll pick up another temporary "baby girl" anywhere along the way. Joe is a laugh riot, to say the least. He has the Southern charm, yet you know that he's a bad boy through and through. I trust him, though, and like him quite a bit. He's, how shall we say, a character. His motto at the bar is "a vodka every seven minutes and beer every three". It's a life.
We'll probably be in South Carolina in about another six hours, and will be there for about five days. First we feed the steel guys (the guys that build the stages) for the first three days, then the production crew and artists. After that, Austin! Right now we're somewhere in Pennsylvania. It's raining, and gray and gloomy. Everything is green with lots of pink blooming trees dotting the landscape. The hills are rolling, which leads me to believe that we'll be in West Virginia soon. We just made a pit-stop at a Flying J and it's about 8:30 in the morning. Everybody else went back to sleep, but I chose to stay up, as I'm guessing that it will be difficult to find time for myself. Carpe diem, as it were. More later.
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Sunday, April 13, 2008
A Second Chance
Current mood: awake
I had the opportunity last night to say goodbye to a few people last night at The Second Chance Saloon, and quite frankly, I had an awesome time. For those who were there, thanks for coming out! For those who weren't, I'll miss you, and will look forward to seeing you when I come back.
The weather was warm enough so we could sit outside in the back patio area. Considering it's a new bar, they don't quite have the seating thing arranged, but all worked out when I spotted some empty kegs in the corner. Linda grabbed a table that had been tossed to the side, and with the help of others, seating and a table was available. How nice. Kegs aren't the most comfortable thing to sit on, I'll have you know, but it would have to do in a pinch.
It's sort of funny who actually showed up, last night, because some of these people I haven't seen in well over three months, and probably up to six months. Evan and Scott were even there! Evan, Scott and I played music together several years back. It was one of those Craig's List arrangements, which, believe it or not, sometimes can pan out. Eventually, and unfortunately, Scott decided that he was tired of playing drums, and really wanted to play guitar. Don't they all? Sigh. That's when Jeff entered the picture to play drums with us. Evan and I went through three drummers over the course of a year, played only one show, and really never had a band name. How's that for initiative? The one show that we did play, we went under the name of "In-bounds to Bird", and we played at Otto's Shrunken Head. I know. Silly, but there was somewhat of an inside joke to the band name. It stemmed from a long winded, introductory voice mail message from Scott when he first responded to our ad. It might be a silly name, but I've heard far worse names. Anyway, it was great seeing Evan and Scott. We even went to Linda's house afterwards to have an Inbounds to Bird disco party!
At about three in the morning, I received a call from Gordon, my downstairs neighbor. Gordon is a percussionist, and plays with a lot of Afrobeat bands in town and all over the country. I met Gordon last Summer up on the roof, and he continued to be the only person that I ever saw up there. I guess the only reason that that is the case is because we're the only people up at that sort of hour. Either that, or nobody goes up to the roof, but I highly doubt that. I immediately liked Gordon, because he is just that sort of guy who lives life to the fullest, and by his rules, but would do anything for his friends. That and he has a wickedly awesome sense of humor. Well, Gordon came over to Linda's, and once the sun had risen, and we deemed it safe to leave, we took a car back to our abode on Belvidere. But first we had to make a quick stop at, you guessed it, the taco shop! Awesome! La Paisa was open and ready to serve us some early morning tacos! We took our lovely little taco packages back to, you guessed it again, the roof of our building. The perfect way to end a really great night.
Now, to move the rest of my stuff. But before I go, here are some pictures! Enjoy.
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Friday, April 11, 2008
I’ve Been to the Roof
Current mood: contemplative
The weather is finally warmish, and I've actually made it up to the rooftop, one of my favorite places to hang both by myself, and with friends. It's really not much of a rooftop. Five stories up, and there it is. Ta da! There's not even really much of a view. I suppose you can see a little of Manhattan, but it's not exactly a clear shot. You do get a lovely view of the hospital down the street, though - a place I often refer to as "The Death Star". You also get to watch the "J" train coming into and going away from the Broadway-Myrtle stop. That's always exciting? That, and watching the planes decend into LaGuardia. The flight path is right over my building, and quite frankly I love watching them come in. I'm not quite sure why I like watching planes fly over my house so much. I guess it just is what it is.
Here it is, four days before I leave my rooftop, and NYC in general. I still have things to pack, but not much. Once my clothes are packed up, that only leaves my records. I'd much rather watch the planes land.
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Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Chicken (I Think) In Aspic?
Current mood: hungry
Category: Food and Restaurants
Here it is. Chicken in Aspic. Everyone’s Russian favorite.
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Monday, April 07, 2008
Is This How Russian Nobility Ate?
Current mood: enlightened
The instructions were called out for Linda’s birthday celebration. Meet at Linda’s house at 6:30, and we’ll take a train down there. Dress up. So, my roommate Phil and I went out into the evening, donning our evening attire to wait for our car service to pick us up. Seeing as it was broad daylight out still, I felt rather conspicuous standing on the corner wearing a dress with sequins, fishnets and high-heels. Don’t get me wrong. I love to dress up, and all, but the corner that we live in isn’t a dressed up kind of locale. Plus, whenever I wear spikey high-heels I hardly feel glamorous, but rather more like a Weeble-wobble; thus enhancing my notion that we stood out like a Christmas tree in July. Our car arrived, and we made our way over to Linda and Jon’s place. We got out, and instead of taking the train, the decision had been made to take another car service down to Brighton Beach. For this, I was grateful.
We arrived at our destination to find Greg waiting for us at a very long table that had already been covered with Russian delicacies. Delicacies? To each their own, I suppose. There were many "meat-like" substances, most of them garnished with canned pineapple rings and black olives, and randomly scattered diced red pepper. There strangly was eel that was prepared in a somewhat Japanese way, but the dish that brought the most attention was the chicken in aspic terrine. Very interesting. Very dated, but actually, in comparison to everything else, it tasted okay - especially if you put enough horseradish on it. There was gefelte fish, and pickled herring and smoked salmon and sturgeon. All of this usually is fine, but for some reason it left something to be desired tonight. I don’t think it was the dishes themselves, but more the quality of what was served. Oh well. As the evening progressed, they kept on bring out more and more food, none of it prepared very well, but in massive quantities. In the end, I would venture to guess that perhaps this is why the Russian people, generally speaking, appear to be unhappy. It’s no wonder. Their food is terrible.
The evening’s entertainment made their way up onto the stage. It consisted of two quintisentially Russian women, one of whom looked like a Mandrell sister if she were Russian, if you can imagine. The rest of the band consisted of two men (also quintissential Russians), one of which played some percussion, and the other played keyboards. They played many supposedly Russian standards (I’m not too hip to the Russian music scene, I’ll have you know), that all had that Casio pre-programmed feel to them. They even threw in some American classics, mostly of the top 40 ilk. We all made our way out to the dance floor to shake our booties to the Russian hits along with a crowd of Russians and Georgians of a median age of fifty, I would say. The exception was a long table of fifteen or so Georgian twenty somethings, clearly there to celebrate a birthday. We noticed that the vodka flowed effortlessly at their table. We, on the other hand, being novices to the straight vodka drinking, we took our time in consuming our complimentary bottle of Russian vodka. By the time the end of the evening neared (about 2:30, or so) the vast majority of the neighboring table was incredibly inebriated, some of them nearly falling down. The ties were off, the shirts were untucked, and they were ready to cause trouble. A drunken handful of this group decided to strike up a "conversation" with our table. As it turns out, they were definitely from Georgia, and it was somebody’s twenty-fifth birthday. One started leaning on Phil and Linda, and I was pretty sure he was going to throw up. This, thankfully, did not happen. I also at one point thought that he was going to crash into our table. This also did not happen. The funniest part was when they decided that we were all from Mexico, and then one of the guys suddenly said (in heavy Georgian accent) "I will say something in Spanish for you now." And then he quickly said something in Georgian, to which we all were roaring with laughter.
We finally decided that it was high time to catch a car back to the North side, and what a debacle this turned out to be. I approached the coat check person to see if he could call a car for us. Suddenly it was time for "Let’s Make a Deal", Russian style. A car was already waiting out front, but it was merely a sedan. What I hadn’t made clear was that we need something for seven people. A sedan would have been far too small. The car driver says (in heavy Russian accent) "No problem. I fit seven people in car." Uh, no thank you. I’m not really into clown cars so much these days. Lenoir procured a telephone number for a car service, and found out that they were around the corner. We waited and waited, but clearly in Brighton Beach, five minutes means thirty. So, Lenoir and I decided to be proactive and check in with the car service around the corner. "Oh yes, a mini-van is on its way." To which I reply, "How much is that going to be?" "Sixty-five dollars." Clearly, extortion is popular in Brighton Beach. We talked him down to $55.00, which was still $20.00 more than what we paid to get down there. Unbelievable, to say the least, but what are you going to do?
We made our way back to the North side for a nightcap, but at this point everyone was tired, and I think just wanted to go home. All, except Linda, so since it was her birthday, Lenoir and I shook off the tired feeling, and went out for one last cocktail...
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Moment
Current mood: confused
I'm having a moment where I think that I want to move back to NYC. Wait. Hold that. Everybody that I've met tonight is FROM NYC. Or close to it. Whatevs.
Currently listening :
Invisible Jet
By Black Helicopter
Release date: 2006-06-20
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Monday, May 26, 2008
The Kindness of Strangers...
Current mood: confident
So much has happened over the past month and a half, that it's been almost impossible for me to sort it all out in my head and write about it. I've decided that since I have a little quiet time, all by my lonesome, that now's the time to get it all out on paper - or on computer screen, as it were.
I've now been in Raleigh, North Carolina for two weeks and one day. How did this happen? Probably the main reason that this has happened is that I've met some people that have been so kind as to let me stay with them, even though I just met them a little over a week ago. Many thanks to Carlos and Joey for everything that they've helped me with in the past week. Beyond that, though, there's something rather magnetic about Raleigh, I must admit. I didn't really feel the same way about Wilmington and Charlotte when I traveled to both places to see the Heroine Sheiks, though. I did, however feel very homesick for Minneapolis having seen people from there that I had not seen in many, many years. As I lugged my stuff through Charlotte, downtown to the Greyhound station, I had my first moment of confusion and anxiety over the fact that I was considering moving to North Carolina. I seriously considered while waiting for my bus to Raleigh to actually just go to Minneapolis instead. In retrospect, I'm glad that didn't happen. Moving to a town like Raleigh is just the sort of challenge that I need at this point in my life. I'll probably go back to Minneapolis at one point, but that point isn't right now. We'll see how I feel about that in August when it's 5,000 degrees and 80,000 percent humidity. Ugh.
Things are starting to happen. I have two interviews this week, and even have an almost definite lead on a place to live. I won't say it's definite until I actually have paid the rent and have a set of keys in my hands. One can never tell what people will do at the last minute. I've even met a bunch of people, most of whom I like quite a bit. People are quite warm, inviting and helpful here, but I think I mentioned that in my last blog.
My next step, to get everyone in New York to move down here.
Currently listening :
Black Rainbow
By 400 Blows
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Friday, May 16, 2008
The Raleigh Vortex
Current mood: adventurous
I seem to have found myself in Raleigh, NC. Not only have I found myself in this lovely little city/town, but I'm actually considering moving here! Where is the sense in this? I've lived in quite a few places, but Raleigh? Let me see now. Minneapolis, Los Angeles, New York City, uh Raleigh? Actually, it's kind of nice here, and with my intentions of being on the road all of the time, what does it matter where I live, as long as it's affordable. Ultimately I do need a place to hang my hat, do I not? Plus, the people that I've met have all been super friendly and very helpful, a quality that New York sometimes lacks. One person actually gave me written directions to a club that were so detailed that I thought he was writing a novel. Now that's service. On top of that, it seems to have somewhat of a music scene, which is always of great importance, I'll have you know.
Tonight's plans include a meeting with Jim to see about getting more tour work. Hopefully something will pan out. Y'all keep your fingers crossed, ye hear. Also, I'm going to the Pour House to see a new friend's band by the name of the Bleeding Hearts. Not sure what to expect, but I'm sure they'll be a lot better than last night's Helmet show. Why won't Page go away? And why did I pay $20.00 to see the show? To say they were boring wouldn't come even close to describing how bad it was. Caltrop and ASG were good, though. Caltrop were sort of, how shall I say, mathy, psych-metal. ASG made me think of The Adolescents, but only if they were a metal band. There was another band by the name of H.O.W. that were quite frankly an embarassment. Enough on that. Off to Mecca I go to sample what seemingly will be good simple Southern fare. Good thing I'm walking there.
Currently listening :
We Must Obey
By Fu Manchu
Release date: 2007-02-20
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Thursday, May 01, 2008
South Cackalacky
Current mood: curious
I start this segment of my tour tales sitting in my hotel room at The Hilton in Columbia, South Carolina, also known as South Cackalacky. It's raining and gray outside. Every once in awhile, to break up the insanity of living on an RV with six people, Mark and Sue will get everyone their own hotel room. I feel that it's an excellent idea, not only because it's nice to have a real bed after two weeks, but it's also nice to have some time to your self. It's a no brainer, really.
It's been an action packed week, here in South Carolina. Here are some of the highlights:
As I told you before, we found the oldest bar in South Carolina, and it just so happened to be right down the street from the stadium parking lot. The second night that we were there (or was it the third), we made our way to another bar in the neighborhood called the Loose Cockaboose. It was me, Dan, Steve and Tom Cat. Out with the boys again, as if that's going to change over the next five months. We had a great time, shooting the shit, talking shop, and fitting in a few drinks as well. We even met the bartenders, the owner, and some of the locals while there. That's the thing about South Carolina, everyone's very friendly, but often some can be a little too friendly. It can be a little weird around there as well, what, with all of the racist, closed minded sentiment that I hear all day. At about 2:30 a.m., we made our way back to the RV. We had a 6:30 a.m. call, and our numbers were going well over two hundred because the rest of the crew would be arriving, and rest was much needed.
A couple of new people had arrived the day before to "try-out" for a job, and also help out for the show. They both seemed alright at first, but as the first day progressed, I realized that one in particular was definitely not okay. As a matter of fact, he was an outright pig. Not only was he a pig, but he was a pig from Lodi, NJ. The worst pig of them all. Now I know that all the guys that I work with are, well, they're guys, but this guy took it to another level. Not only that, but he was super lazy and arrogant. Such awesome qualities, I say. Well, we got through it, and let's just say he won't come back. Either will two of the dishwashers that were there to help. Rodney, one of the local people that helped us out said that it was like the TV show Survivor, and I was the one that kicked them all off the island. Obviously I didn't fire them (not my job), but I didn't exactly hold back my opinion of them either. So be it.
One of the nights that we were here, Dan and I decided to go out to the Five Points area of Columbia. It's where all of the nightlife is for the city. We first went to a bar called Delaney's, which was an Irish Pub. It was alright, but we wanted to find something a little more lively, and perhaps someplace with some live music. Our friendly bartender suggested a couple of places that were off the beaten path, one being The Wig, and the other being Art Bar. Wow. Yet another Art Bar? It kind of makes you wonder how many Art Bars there are in the world, doesn't it? I would describe Art Bar in Columbia as a rock n roll bar that looks like it came off the set of 1984, mixed with an Indian restaurant on 6th Street in NYC. I only say that because there were an awful lot of Christmas lights strung up around the bar. Festive in an arty sort of way. We ordered our beer, chatted with the bartender a bit, when suddenly a guy from across the bar was waving at us. I had no clue as to why he was waving at me, but I waved back anyway. The bartender informed us that they were working for Kenny Chesney. As it turns out, they were part of Kenny's video crew, and they recognized me from catering. Jay and Josh are both from Nashville, and I believe Jay is the Director of the video crew. I think Josh is a camera operator. Nice guys. We chatted a bit, and then they went on their way. We exited shortly after.
Finally on Saturday, the show came about. It seemed as if we had been in Columbia for a month at that point, and we were all obviously sick of being there. The doors opened sometime around 2:00 p.m., and in rolled the 44,000 Kenny Chesney fans. There they all were, hootin' and hollerin', in their cowboy hats and boots. Occasionally I would go out to the backstage area to check out what was happening, and I of course was greatly amused. It was a sea of rednecks, all singing along to the songs, dirty dancing, and just generally causing a ruckus. Yes, a ruckus. Kenny hit the stage at about 9:00 or so. I didn't see the opening, but apparently what happens is that he comes up on a hydraulic lift from below the stage. It is a very dramatic entrance, according to Steve. Well, this time, something went wrong. Apparently Kenny's foot got caught between the lift and the actual stage, essentially crushing his foot. Amazingly, he played through the entire set, obviously in a large amount of pain. Of course everyone was thinking the worse, and as Dan and I had burgers and beers at Jaco's I started thinking about my contingency plan if the tour was cancelled. We waited until morning and as we were preparing breakfast, we got the word that all systems were go. Proceed to Austin as planned. Amazingly, Kenny didn't break a single bone in his foot or ankle. Clearly his cowboy boots saved his foot.
Sunday was our final day to feed people, and our numbers dropped from three hundred and fifty to seventy-five. Sunday was a cake walk. Actually, despite the fact that we had the moron from New Jersey, the whole week was a cake walk. I have to say that it's really been a pleasure to work with everybody on this crew, because they're all so professional and just want to get the job done. Not only that, but they do their jobs well. It's a far cry from my last year's experience working the music festivals. This time around I definitely am not seeing hippy girls smoking pot in the dry storage truck, and for this I am thankful.
Sunday night a plan was made with my new friend, Rodney to go out to Art Bar. It was his friend's birthday, and he invited me to join them at a place called Congaree Grill in the five points area of Columbia. It was a good group of people, I must say, and I ended up having a great time. The food at Congaree Grill left something to be desired, though. I had an appetizer by the name of seafood martini, which lead me to believe that it would be chilled, and somewhat like ceviche. Not true in the least bit. It actually was more like a hot crab dip, and it was served with Texas toast. It wasn't horrible, but it definitely wasn't what I expected. For my entrée, I had shrimp and grits, but with their shrimp and grits they douse it with some sort of a balsamic sauce. It was completely overwhelmed by the flavor of the balsamic, and frankly I couldn't even eat half of it. I guess I'm somewhat of a purist when it comes to food, and often object to dishes being altered. I do enjoy innovation with food, and creativity, but sometimes some things are just better left alone. Congaree Grill's shrimp and grits is a strong case for this. After dinner, we made our way to Art Bar for more cocktails. At one point, I made a call to the boys to coerce them into joining us. Nuge (Robert) and I spoke, and he said that they all would be joining us at the bar. Bob then called me, turned the tables on me, and suggested that we join them at a place called Flying Saucer instead. I'm thinking, of course, how the hell am I going to find the Flying Saucer. Well, as it turns out, the Flying Saucer is a mere one block away. Rodney offered to escort me there, so all was fine. We made our way over to find a very drunk catering crew. Bob, Nuge and Tom Cat were all wasted, which greatly amused me. I've seen Nuge and Tom put away a few, but I've never seen Bob drink more than a beer. After a beer and a shot, we finally talked the three of them into going back to Art Bar. We made our way back to supposedly wrap up the evening, but no, there was more fun to be had. Rodney lead us to more than likely the one and only gay club in Columbia. I have to say that at this point the evening was rather blurry, but I do know that we made our way to the IHOP after that. All in all, it was an action packed evening in Columbia, SC.
Next stop, Austin, Texas.
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Monday, April 21, 2008
CT to SC
Current mood: tired
A flood of memories from a tour that I did with a little indie band back in 1996 was brought back today. We jumped in a van and had no troubles at all, the whole entire five weeks that we were on the road. Our final show was in Sioux City, Iowa. We started out, and made it as far as Colorado, when our windshield suddenly was struck by a rock, which created this huge spider web of a crack, which was pretty much threatening to implode the further that we drove. It was Sunday at about 5:00 in the morning, and had to wait until we could find a service station that could help us with our situation. We found one, but of course they didn't have a windshield. Why would they? They did have a "cousin" down the road that might be able to help us, though. We waited for said "cousin". They finally arrived, and brought us down this back road to yet another service station. We followed back woods, said cousin to their service station, somewhere in Colorado. They finally got the appropriate windshield, and were about to install it, when they decided that it would be a good idea if we moved our van so they could move a truck out of the garage. We moved the van – not a problem. They moved the truck – big problem. They actually ran over the brand new windshield! This, as you might guess, was not a good thing. We were so frustrated that we had them put the windshield in (half-assed, I might add), and then we reinforced it with duct tape. We drove away from Colorado, and made it back in LA a day and a half later, with a nicely cracked windshield, and one roll lighter on the duct tape supply.
I think of this incident, only because of what happened today (well, yesterday, now.). There we were, cruising down I-81, when suddenly it appeared as if Joe (the driver) was pulling off the road. He stops (thankfully) every once in a while, so nobody really even thought about it in the least, but as soon as he pulled over, he came back around to our trailer and announced that he had a blowout! Uh, really? Out of curiosity, a couple of us piled out of our trailer, into the parking lot of yet another Flying J, to find that the rear tire of the rear trailer had completely disengaged from the rotor, and was nowhere to be found. That's funny. It was there a few minutes ago. Joe noticed a "tire repair center" at the other side of the parking lot and pulled the rig over to the facilities. Seeing as I know nothing about putting tires onto trailers, I decided to go and have a bite to eat with Dan instead. Wise choice.
When we returned, we were informed that the something fell off the something something, and there would have to be another something put on in its place. Okay, let's do that. Well, the problem was that even though it was a "tire repair center", there was nobody there to actually replace that certain something something. Well, that's awfully convenient, isn't it? The guy did step forward and offer to call another guy in town that may have been able to help, but only after Joe ripped into him and his garage for a couple of minutes. Okay, bring the alternate guy. The guy showed up, and he was awfully nice, although I couldn't understand a word that he said. Those rural Southern accents do get me sometimes, but I digress. The only problem was that he didn't have the right size part, and seeing as it is Sunday in rural Virginia, there would be nowhere to get said part. Oh, wait. That might not be true. He says, "There is a woman that I can call that has a parts store with her husband." He tried calling her, but to no avail. He tried and tried, and then finally he was able to reach her, "What? You're in Roanoke at a funeral?" All was not lost, though. She said that her Father (or maybe it was her cousin) would be able to let him in to the store to get the parts. Perfect. Let's do that. Further incentive was thrown in when we told him that we could get him some Kenny Chesney tickets. You should have seen that guy run. I guess he likes his music. Or maybe just his cousin does. Maybe they both do. I don't know. All I do know is that it definitely it put a spark in his step when he found out that he would be able to get a couple of KC tickets for his trouble. And to think, I didn't even know who KC was until I got offered this job.
He came back, fixed the tire in mere minutes, and off we went into the sunset. We have now arrived in Columbia, SC. The trucks are unloaded, the dining area is set up for breakfast, and I'm back in my bunk ready for my 5:30 a.m. wake up.
More tales to tell.
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Sunday, April 20, 2008
Connecticut to South Carolina
Current mood: excited
I have been sleeping in a truck in a parking garage. It was parked outside of the loading dock for the Mohegan Sun Arena. We worked backstage in the kitchen, but for the most part, will be working in a kitchen that is in a trailer that is pulled behind our house. The quarters are small, and I sleep in a bunk about the size of a very large, rectangular surf board. Tis small, indeed. As a matter of fact, I am in it right now. We just left Mohegan Sun, and are headed South to Columbia, SC.
My roommates. Ha! What a funny bunch. Let's start with the kitchen. Bob is the chef. He makes the menus, he runs the kitchen. He's more or less in charge, but doesn't act like your typical chef. He's actually quite laid back, and has a pretty good sense of humor. I like him. He's from Vermont originally, and acts as such. In a nutshell, Bob is quirky, yet laid back, plus he can cook! It's never anything fancy, but damnit, it all tastes good. He also lives on a steady diet of sugar, coffee and every single caffeinated beverage under the sun, and his hands seem to be constantly shaking. Mountain Dew seems to be a steady favorite. Then there's Jeff. He's second in command. The Sous Chef, if you will. He and Bob have worked together for years, and you can tell immediately upon seeing them together. They're a very well oiled machine. Jeff is a good natured, thirty-something, originally from Louisville, KY. Jeff is hilarious, and his red hair and freckles just make him that much more funny, in a very endearing sort of way. He is a pig, though, but most men who work in kitchens are, now that I think of it. He makes no attempt to hide it, either. He loves the "C" word like no one I know. He's lewd and crude, but in a very harmless way. I see the truth, though. Next, is Dan. Dan is our salad guy. He's originally from Portland, and has that sort of Portland slacker way about him. At first I wasn't 100% sold on him, but he certainly has grown on me. I sense that he will become a good friend in the end.
After the kitchen staff, we have the front of house staff, or dining room staff, if you will. First, there's Steve. He's the owner's Nephew. He's very young, but really a great guy, and for the most part, quite mature for his age. Twenty-one? He won't be doing the entire tour with us, which is a shame, but I think he wants to go to school, so all the best to him. There's another guy by the name of Robert. Robert is from North Carolina, somewhere about an hour south of Raleigh-Durham. He's a country kid, through and through. I really enjoy Robert's company, but I'm not so sure he's going to make it on this tour, or on any tour, for that matter. I hope he surprises me by pulling through the whole thing. I watch him as he slinks from dining room to kitchen (and I do mean slink), and sometimes he looks absolutely miserable. Poor guy. And just for the record, I'm not being sarcastic with that comment. That might change, though, as my patience for moping often wears thin rather quickly. Also in the dining room is Tom, AKA Tom Cat. He's a forty something year old guy from Detroit. He's been doing the road thing since 1990. Well then. I guess that is eighteen years. Woah hey. It shows in that burned out road guy way (if you know what I mean), but I like him. He seems to enjoy life, and he's a very hard worker. What more could you ask for?
Those are my "truck mates". Now for the additional cast of characters. The non-roommates, if you will. First, there is Sue. She's the co-owner, along with her "husband", Mark. Sue is nearing sixty, and spent a good portion of her life working on boats. She started doing the backstage catering thing with Mark, because he had experience in the music industry in the security arena, and also in merchandising. People he has worked for have included Aerosmith, Michael Jackson, and many others equally as big. Oh, and speaking of big, Mark is huge, hence him having worked in the security sector. He's essentially a big, burly biker with an acerbic wit, paired with a tremendous ego. Interesting combo, I must say, but I also get the impression that he really looks out for his employees, and truly appreciates them. Sue appreciates her employees as well, but she's somewhat neurotic about everything pertaining to her business. I suppose I would be too, so I try to put myself in her shoes. Bob and Jeff do a lot of eye rolling when it comes to her. Now, a few words about Joe. Joe is our driver. He drives our "house" which is essentially a truck that's made into an RV, plus an additional trailer, which is our kitchen. He's another one from the country of North Carolina, but a little more seasoned. He has his "baby girl" back at home, but he'll pick up another temporary "baby girl" anywhere along the way. Joe is a laugh riot, to say the least. He has the Southern charm, yet you know that he's a bad boy through and through. I trust him, though, and like him quite a bit. He's, how shall we say, a character. His motto at the bar is "a vodka every seven minutes and beer every three". It's a life.
We'll probably be in South Carolina in about another six hours, and will be there for about five days. First we feed the steel guys (the guys that build the stages) for the first three days, then the production crew and artists. After that, Austin! Right now we're somewhere in Pennsylvania. It's raining, and gray and gloomy. Everything is green with lots of pink blooming trees dotting the landscape. The hills are rolling, which leads me to believe that we'll be in West Virginia soon. We just made a pit-stop at a Flying J and it's about 8:30 in the morning. Everybody else went back to sleep, but I chose to stay up, as I'm guessing that it will be difficult to find time for myself. Carpe diem, as it were. More later.
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Sunday, April 13, 2008
A Second Chance
Current mood: awake
I had the opportunity last night to say goodbye to a few people last night at The Second Chance Saloon, and quite frankly, I had an awesome time. For those who were there, thanks for coming out! For those who weren't, I'll miss you, and will look forward to seeing you when I come back.
The weather was warm enough so we could sit outside in the back patio area. Considering it's a new bar, they don't quite have the seating thing arranged, but all worked out when I spotted some empty kegs in the corner. Linda grabbed a table that had been tossed to the side, and with the help of others, seating and a table was available. How nice. Kegs aren't the most comfortable thing to sit on, I'll have you know, but it would have to do in a pinch.
It's sort of funny who actually showed up, last night, because some of these people I haven't seen in well over three months, and probably up to six months. Evan and Scott were even there! Evan, Scott and I played music together several years back. It was one of those Craig's List arrangements, which, believe it or not, sometimes can pan out. Eventually, and unfortunately, Scott decided that he was tired of playing drums, and really wanted to play guitar. Don't they all? Sigh. That's when Jeff entered the picture to play drums with us. Evan and I went through three drummers over the course of a year, played only one show, and really never had a band name. How's that for initiative? The one show that we did play, we went under the name of "In-bounds to Bird", and we played at Otto's Shrunken Head. I know. Silly, but there was somewhat of an inside joke to the band name. It stemmed from a long winded, introductory voice mail message from Scott when he first responded to our ad. It might be a silly name, but I've heard far worse names. Anyway, it was great seeing Evan and Scott. We even went to Linda's house afterwards to have an Inbounds to Bird disco party!
At about three in the morning, I received a call from Gordon, my downstairs neighbor. Gordon is a percussionist, and plays with a lot of Afrobeat bands in town and all over the country. I met Gordon last Summer up on the roof, and he continued to be the only person that I ever saw up there. I guess the only reason that that is the case is because we're the only people up at that sort of hour. Either that, or nobody goes up to the roof, but I highly doubt that. I immediately liked Gordon, because he is just that sort of guy who lives life to the fullest, and by his rules, but would do anything for his friends. That and he has a wickedly awesome sense of humor. Well, Gordon came over to Linda's, and once the sun had risen, and we deemed it safe to leave, we took a car back to our abode on Belvidere. But first we had to make a quick stop at, you guessed it, the taco shop! Awesome! La Paisa was open and ready to serve us some early morning tacos! We took our lovely little taco packages back to, you guessed it again, the roof of our building. The perfect way to end a really great night.
Now, to move the rest of my stuff. But before I go, here are some pictures! Enjoy.
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Friday, April 11, 2008
I’ve Been to the Roof
Current mood: contemplative
The weather is finally warmish, and I've actually made it up to the rooftop, one of my favorite places to hang both by myself, and with friends. It's really not much of a rooftop. Five stories up, and there it is. Ta da! There's not even really much of a view. I suppose you can see a little of Manhattan, but it's not exactly a clear shot. You do get a lovely view of the hospital down the street, though - a place I often refer to as "The Death Star". You also get to watch the "J" train coming into and going away from the Broadway-Myrtle stop. That's always exciting? That, and watching the planes decend into LaGuardia. The flight path is right over my building, and quite frankly I love watching them come in. I'm not quite sure why I like watching planes fly over my house so much. I guess it just is what it is.
Here it is, four days before I leave my rooftop, and NYC in general. I still have things to pack, but not much. Once my clothes are packed up, that only leaves my records. I'd much rather watch the planes land.
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Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Chicken (I Think) In Aspic?
Current mood: hungry
Category: Food and Restaurants
Here it is. Chicken in Aspic. Everyone’s Russian favorite.
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Monday, April 07, 2008
Is This How Russian Nobility Ate?
Current mood: enlightened
The instructions were called out for Linda’s birthday celebration. Meet at Linda’s house at 6:30, and we’ll take a train down there. Dress up. So, my roommate Phil and I went out into the evening, donning our evening attire to wait for our car service to pick us up. Seeing as it was broad daylight out still, I felt rather conspicuous standing on the corner wearing a dress with sequins, fishnets and high-heels. Don’t get me wrong. I love to dress up, and all, but the corner that we live in isn’t a dressed up kind of locale. Plus, whenever I wear spikey high-heels I hardly feel glamorous, but rather more like a Weeble-wobble; thus enhancing my notion that we stood out like a Christmas tree in July. Our car arrived, and we made our way over to Linda and Jon’s place. We got out, and instead of taking the train, the decision had been made to take another car service down to Brighton Beach. For this, I was grateful.
We arrived at our destination to find Greg waiting for us at a very long table that had already been covered with Russian delicacies. Delicacies? To each their own, I suppose. There were many "meat-like" substances, most of them garnished with canned pineapple rings and black olives, and randomly scattered diced red pepper. There strangly was eel that was prepared in a somewhat Japanese way, but the dish that brought the most attention was the chicken in aspic terrine. Very interesting. Very dated, but actually, in comparison to everything else, it tasted okay - especially if you put enough horseradish on it. There was gefelte fish, and pickled herring and smoked salmon and sturgeon. All of this usually is fine, but for some reason it left something to be desired tonight. I don’t think it was the dishes themselves, but more the quality of what was served. Oh well. As the evening progressed, they kept on bring out more and more food, none of it prepared very well, but in massive quantities. In the end, I would venture to guess that perhaps this is why the Russian people, generally speaking, appear to be unhappy. It’s no wonder. Their food is terrible.
The evening’s entertainment made their way up onto the stage. It consisted of two quintisentially Russian women, one of whom looked like a Mandrell sister if she were Russian, if you can imagine. The rest of the band consisted of two men (also quintissential Russians), one of which played some percussion, and the other played keyboards. They played many supposedly Russian standards (I’m not too hip to the Russian music scene, I’ll have you know), that all had that Casio pre-programmed feel to them. They even threw in some American classics, mostly of the top 40 ilk. We all made our way out to the dance floor to shake our booties to the Russian hits along with a crowd of Russians and Georgians of a median age of fifty, I would say. The exception was a long table of fifteen or so Georgian twenty somethings, clearly there to celebrate a birthday. We noticed that the vodka flowed effortlessly at their table. We, on the other hand, being novices to the straight vodka drinking, we took our time in consuming our complimentary bottle of Russian vodka. By the time the end of the evening neared (about 2:30, or so) the vast majority of the neighboring table was incredibly inebriated, some of them nearly falling down. The ties were off, the shirts were untucked, and they were ready to cause trouble. A drunken handful of this group decided to strike up a "conversation" with our table. As it turns out, they were definitely from Georgia, and it was somebody’s twenty-fifth birthday. One started leaning on Phil and Linda, and I was pretty sure he was going to throw up. This, thankfully, did not happen. I also at one point thought that he was going to crash into our table. This also did not happen. The funniest part was when they decided that we were all from Mexico, and then one of the guys suddenly said (in heavy Georgian accent) "I will say something in Spanish for you now." And then he quickly said something in Georgian, to which we all were roaring with laughter.
We finally decided that it was high time to catch a car back to the North side, and what a debacle this turned out to be. I approached the coat check person to see if he could call a car for us. Suddenly it was time for "Let’s Make a Deal", Russian style. A car was already waiting out front, but it was merely a sedan. What I hadn’t made clear was that we need something for seven people. A sedan would have been far too small. The car driver says (in heavy Russian accent) "No problem. I fit seven people in car." Uh, no thank you. I’m not really into clown cars so much these days. Lenoir procured a telephone number for a car service, and found out that they were around the corner. We waited and waited, but clearly in Brighton Beach, five minutes means thirty. So, Lenoir and I decided to be proactive and check in with the car service around the corner. "Oh yes, a mini-van is on its way." To which I reply, "How much is that going to be?" "Sixty-five dollars." Clearly, extortion is popular in Brighton Beach. We talked him down to $55.00, which was still $20.00 more than what we paid to get down there. Unbelievable, to say the least, but what are you going to do?
We made our way back to the North side for a nightcap, but at this point everyone was tired, and I think just wanted to go home. All, except Linda, so since it was her birthday, Lenoir and I shook off the tired feeling, and went out for one last cocktail...
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Procrastination is My Middle Name - April 3, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Procrastination is My Middle Name
Current mood: angsty
/proʊˈkræstəˌneɪt, prə-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[proh-kras-tuh-neyt, pruh-] -nat·ed, -nat·ing.
–verb (used without object) –verb (used with object)
1. To put off till another day or time; defer; delay
[Origin: 1580–90; < L prōcrāstinātus (ptp. of prōcrāstināre to put off until tomorrow, equiv. to prō- pro-1 + -crāstināre, deriv. of crāstinus of tomorrow; crās tomorrow + -tinus suffix forming adjs. from temporal advs.); see -ate1]
Yes, I am guilty of the above, and especially when it comes to moving. I would much rather stick knitting needles in my right ear than pack my things and move. Okay, I exaggerate, but not by that much. The irony is that I move so often. Someone once said to me that there are two types of people that live in New York; those who move every year to two years (that’s me), and those who stay in their apartment longer than the average cockroach family. Now, if I hate moving so much, why would I subject myself to such torture? An answer, I do not have. It must be in my blood.
That all being said, I did start some preliminary packing today. Over the years, I’ve noticed that I sort of have a pattern when it comes to packing my stuff. I tend to pack all of the little knick-knacky things first, and then the books. CDs, vinyl, kitchen stuff, and clothes seem to go into boxes/bags last, because lord only knows when I’m going to need access to that Fall box-set. Oh, and speaking of CDs, this time around there is one more step to my moving process. I need to burn all of my CDs to my computer, a daunting task to say the least.
Once again, I am doomed. Where are those knitting needles? I couldn’t have packed them away already.
11:51 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Procrastination is My Middle Name
Current mood: angsty
/proʊˈkræstəˌneɪt, prə-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[proh-kras-tuh-neyt, pruh-] -nat·ed, -nat·ing.
–verb (used without object) –verb (used with object)
1. To put off till another day or time; defer; delay
[Origin: 1580–90; < L prōcrāstinātus (ptp. of prōcrāstināre to put off until tomorrow, equiv. to prō- pro-1 + -crāstināre, deriv. of crāstinus of tomorrow; crās tomorrow + -tinus suffix forming adjs. from temporal advs.); see -ate1]
Yes, I am guilty of the above, and especially when it comes to moving. I would much rather stick knitting needles in my right ear than pack my things and move. Okay, I exaggerate, but not by that much. The irony is that I move so often. Someone once said to me that there are two types of people that live in New York; those who move every year to two years (that’s me), and those who stay in their apartment longer than the average cockroach family. Now, if I hate moving so much, why would I subject myself to such torture? An answer, I do not have. It must be in my blood.
That all being said, I did start some preliminary packing today. Over the years, I’ve noticed that I sort of have a pattern when it comes to packing my stuff. I tend to pack all of the little knick-knacky things first, and then the books. CDs, vinyl, kitchen stuff, and clothes seem to go into boxes/bags last, because lord only knows when I’m going to need access to that Fall box-set. Oh, and speaking of CDs, this time around there is one more step to my moving process. I need to burn all of my CDs to my computer, a daunting task to say the least.
Once again, I am doomed. Where are those knitting needles? I couldn’t have packed them away already.
11:51 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Friday, October 24, 2008
February 18, 2008 - March 30, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
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| Wednesday, February 27, 2008
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| Monday, February 18, 2008
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weird 
accomplished 
bored 
cantankerous 
determined 
indescribable 
nostalgic 
distressed
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