Album Review

See my reviews on Discosalt. Here's the new one for the new Joe Pernice solo covers album.

Stories from the YMCA Locker Room

"Jimmy" - Westside Y, NYC
While dressing, and still partially nude, man comes by the row of lockers where I am. I recognize man and have been giving a courteous nod hello, mostly because when I first saw him walking around I thought he was veteran character actor Ray Wise. I'm dressing quickly as he gets on the scale.
"Well, i've lost 5 pounds"
me - "well congrats, pal. i've gained 5"
"oh, but you don't need to lose any weight. you. look. great."
he then chats me up about where i'm from & where i live. i somehow did not mention that i work(ed) at Sesame Street, which would've had Single White Female potential if i would've. given my habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, it's a miracle i didn't. anyway, he then says:
"here. let me give you my card. give me a call, i'll take you out to dinnah"
2 days pass, i walk into room with machines at the Y. he's on the first one, facing out towards the door. i walk to the farthest, most hidden machine in the room, and one that is facing a wall, and i have my iPod on & headphones in & volume UP. i'm using said machine when i feel a tap-tap-tap on my shoulder. i say:
"hey jimmy, what's up?
him - "oh, i was just thinking about you today...i went to the post office today, i went there because, because i had to get some stamps. i went there because i, i wanted to get some Love stamps, but then i thought of you, because i saw that they have Oklahoma stamps."
"great. i'll tell my friends back home"
him - "hey, when are we gonna get that dinner?"

Stories from the YMCA Locker Room

Park Slope Y
VERY Brooklyn dude walks up to me as i'm getting dressed and sitting in front of my locker. I put on my T-Shirt, which has a logo and the name of a band, The Deathray Davies. Dude checks out the shirt, says:
"Hey, what's your shirt mean?"
me - "oh, it's just some band"
"Oh yeah? Never heard of 'em"
me - "yeah, it's a friends band from Texas"
"Oh yeah? Still never heard of 'em"

lunch at the ball fields, anyone?

and, we're back!  still unemployed, still cash poor, but back in business nonetheless.  the return of the ballfields couldn't be more timely given the state of economics here at the red hook diaries, and we're looking forward to the first taste of the nopales laden huarache, and the pupusa with the loroco flower.  

as an addendum, here's a live blog of the national championship game.  

1st Q, 3:00 left - UNC 48, MSU 25

total snoozer...

the bread lines are long and lonely

unemployment....

bittersweet, but kind of funny, no?  

the thrill is GONE

the red hook ballfields are back, as you may have read or seen. i knew b/c when i went yesterday there were as many camera crews there as there are paparozzi currently stationed on 64th and Central Park West outside of Madonna's apartment, waiting to catch a glimpse of A-Rod (believe me, i've seen them). unfortunately, friends, it just ain't the same. what used to be gigantic, beautiful chaos is now tightly regulated bullshit. bullshit in that, well in that i personally think it's bullshit to wait in a 75 person deep line for a lemonade. bullshit in that the 3 best vendors have taken up residence at the brooklyn flea on sundays, and apparently are sticking tight because they weren't at the soccer fields this weekend. and, finally, bullshit because the cause of the red hook food vendors has become a bit of a brooklyn cause celebre, in that the ejection of the food vendors was met with such universal disapproval and outrage (color me guilty as well. i started one of the oodles of "save red hook" myspace pages as a properly lazy act of civic responsibility), that the return of the vendors in this opening weekend was met with such a massive turnout that anyone who really loves the food and the red hook ballfields was positively turned away from the long lines for, basically, nothing. i love that all of the vendors were getting the spillover business from the outrageously over-taxed huarache stand, and even the lady selling $10 containers of ceviche and "tuna soup." but truthfully, there's a reason why those stands weren't ever really busy in the first place (i once overheard a teenage soccer player crack wise to his homies with the snap-tastic "she puts TUNA in the ceviche," which elicited massive snickering and snorting. i like to think of this joke as the ceviche version of steve martin's plumbing joke).

why so bitter, right? well those lines were really just excessively ridiculous, but i understand that i'm crabby and old. i understand that the new blood at the ballfields will thin, as it always does, and the lines will become manageable. in my impatience, i also was introduced to a vendor i've never visited before, the colombian booth, at which i had a delicious plate of beans and rice that kept me full and semi-coherent throught the entire day, which is no small feat on a saturday, especially one like yesterday in which the day was long and the cervezas were aplenty. i guess this tiny rage stems from the incompetence of the city, which happily enables any and all roasted corn & watermelon slice vendors, as well as the ubiquitous cheese steak carts, at every street fair in the city that bounces from street to street throughout the summer in new york city. the sheer size, or lack of, is undoubtably crippling for the vendors, and has permanently altered the feel of "soccer tacos" and has made it more of a nyc street fair and less of a red hook secret. i used those vendors as a surrogate for a mere 2 years, sating my constant need for mexican/latin food, which has represented 90% of my subsistence for these past 33 years, and even more than that the past 9 that i've been a vegetarian. sandwiches get old, but nachos never do, and a quality meal that even a pauper could afford was something that i grew to not only appreciate but need in the worst/best possible way. those days are now gone, and if i really want the "red hook" experience, i now have to make it a once a week occasion, and have to go to fort greene to get it, and to wade through comically overpriced antiques, neckerchiefs and knick-knacks to do so. but my loyalties lie not just with the meal but with the person who prepares it, and the best of those vendors, the hernandez huarche stand and the good el salvadoran pupusa people, they've moved on and defied the city's financial demands and continued doing things the way they've done them for 20 years. i also just really like the guy who just prepares the meat shanks at the pupusa stand, he's my favorite of them all. i'm also bitter because today i accidentally ate the second bit of meat i've had in 9 years, and the first was an honest mistake of an egg roll at a chinese buffet in oklahoma. lord, that shit was nasty. last time i go to that pupusa stand, even if they have the pupusas with the mysterious loroco flower. thank goodness there's a plan B, even if i have to ride the train to get there.

p.s., for anyone who ever walks down 9th street between smith & court street. my over/under for the stoner MORON who keeps his bong collection in the window, for all to see, on going to jail is 2 years. any takers? he/she has had it up there for at least 1 year already. how the NYPD hasn't noticed this, with the requisite black light/red light bulb back lighting, well it's beyond me. they must have bigger fish to fry.

dispatch from the jordan brand classic

so, these 2 kids in the middle of this picture, the twin brothers, are trouble. they're headed to the University of Kansas, and they're not like the collins brothers or those 2 twins who were on that one Valpo team that made it to the sweet sixteen. these kids can seriously play, and for my money were the stars of the whopping 7 solid hours of basketball that i sat through on saturday at the jordan brand classic. 15 bucks buys you a pretty solid day of entertainment, and i was totally disappointed for about 4 minutes that they were not serving beer at the garden. in reality, i figured, a day of drinking super expensive game day beer at Madison Square Garden really leaves a lot to be desired, and i'd get bored with the games and become more interested in drinking more beer, and i'd just leave without watching the game, and what's the point in that? i got my drinkin' done later, anyway, cheaply and efficiently at the Holland Bar, in a scene that resembled the middle section of LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out." It went a little something like this..."DAMAGE" huh "DAMAGE" Huh "DAMAGE" HUH! HUH! HUH!, and then i'm stumbling towards the train a mere 1 hour later. Okay, points of interest from the JBC (you want the recap, check here.)

1. never in a million years, and i've been to MSG a few times now, but never in a million years would i have guessed that among the retired numbers of Messier & Reed & Frazier, hang the retired/celebratory numbers of Billy Joel and Elton John. thanks, international all star game! your combination of balanced scoring and sound fundamental basketball led my eyes to wander, and a productive wandering at that. i spotted the sweet lower level seat that i occupied for the rest of the 5 hours i was there during that game.

2. the morris twins can roll, dude. they're gonna be like snakes in the grass for big XII foes for the next 2-4 years. my initial reason for attending the JBC was to see willie warren play, hoping he'll be the next savior of oklahoma basketball. now, i'm hoping he's also our own little riki tiki tavi.

3. willie warren was wholly underwhelming. sad to say it, and those all star games are all about dunks & 3's, but he mostly just turned the ball over & threw up ugly shots. he wasn't really the star of the show, though, that kid was Brandon Jennings. Bill Simmons has a typically brilliant idea called the "All-Shootaround Team." we all know this kid/guy, NBA he's huge and athletic & canning 3's all over the floor. college kid is tiny and white and hitting NBA 3s with his eyes closed, like 20 in a row. well, for my money, Brandon Jennings is a scrub for the All-Shootaround team. Every single time in shootaround, he goes up for a spectacular between the legs 180 dunk...and every time blows it. Never actually successfully dunks the ball. For my money, his game is all sizzle, no steak, but he can really toss up an alley oop. big deal.

4. in shootaround, while checking B. Jennings, i was drawn to his haircut, which was more bell biv devoe than i've seen in years. and, in an incredible moment of synchronicity, who comes out to sing the national anthem, but Boys II Men.

5. pre-game, the crowd becomes astir. someone real famous is here, i can tell, much more famous than ron harper, who has been roaming the sidelines chatting. no, the buzz is "it's jordan! it's jordan!" sure enough, it was michael jordan. he was only maybe 7 rows down from me, and about 3 sections, so i had a pretty clear view. everyone was kind of electrified by his presence, and i found myself staring at the back of what might be the most famous bald head in the history of bald heads (who else? buddha? atlas? Mr. Monopoly? Mr. Clean?). i always hated jordan when he played, and rooted for whoever was playing against the bulls in the finals, including a few pride swallowing years rooting for the lakers and the Utah Jazz. however, i kind of wanted to thank him. it has been a long time since there was any sort of real, exciting basketball in a building that jordan himself calls the Mecca of basketball. it was nice of him to bring it back, even if just for a night.