Monday, July 04, 2005
Sunday was brilliant. Perfect weather, superb company, and a lengthy meander through a broad swath of the best city on the planet... Andrew, Cherie and I ate Thai, hit Fluff for scones and cupcakes, then escaped to the pavement. The West Side was bathed in golden light, and even the odd girl who held her yawn for half a block looked stunning. We peered into the empty Alvin Ailey rehearsal space (dancers must have been elsewhere), visited Cherie's old digs, took snaps of the Béla Bartók bust, and hoofed it to Columbus Circle. There we purchased books, a timepiece, soap, DVDs, more juices. Shoved C into a cab; Andy and I went back to work on the alb. (He develops the equations, and I grumble about handwriting.) Worked until 1:00 AM (today, the 4th), then met Cherie in Koreatown for a late/very, very early dinner. The graveyard staff weren't terribly efficient, but really, who cares? The sake was hot, and we were laughing too loudly to notice the extent of the chaos. (Trays clattering to hardwood floors, briquet ash floating into water glasses, a general ambience of convivial mayhem.) Retired to a karaoke club where we rented a private room and savored our vocal excrescence. (They had two Sex Pistols selections in their songbook... Those were seen and raised by a pair of Bonnie Tyler compositions... Word to the unhinged: Spandau Ballet's "True" is very difficult to sing.) Left well after 4:00; walked across the boulevard for ginger soy chips and juices. (Naked's Vanilla Chai fucking rules.) Now? We're all here, delirious, anxious for tomorrow. If it's a tenth as cool as yesterday...
Hello Droogs, Kevin Drumm and I picked up our conversation - one that surges, drifts off, abates, and swells with elliptic certainty ever...
KSV 409: Merkwürdig Riechnerv 's No Knife to Twist is available now for digital cogitation and limited-ed CD levitation via KSV Bandcam...
Day Eight. Matte essays into razor tabletop. While I read from sliced divination, re-describe third outlet... TS