Showing posts with label hot child in the city. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hot child in the city. Show all posts

Friday, February 27, 2009

Don't Dream It Be It

When I was a kid, one of my dad's favorite movies was The Rocky Horror Picture Show. This may sound odd for a Southern middle class business man, but hey-- everybody has their guilty pleasures, I suppose.



The cast included Tim Curry, Barry Bostwick, Susan Sarandon, and Meat Loaf who all went on to very promising performing careers, but I often wondered about the rest of the cast. I knew Richard O'Brien, who played Riff Raff and wrote the musical, went on to write and perform in sequal stinker, Shock Treatment. The only returning cast members happened to be his good friend Patricia Quinn who played Magenta, and "The Lips" in the opening credits (See above), and Little Nell Campbell who played Columbia. Little Nell has proved to be the most interesting to me as I've traced her career.

After Rocky Horror, Nell tried her hand at a singing career where she had a moderately popular single in Britain called "Do the Swim", and then went back to acting. She was a groupie in Pink Floyd's The Wall (although I doubt you'd be able to spot her), and starred in several of Derek Jarman's movies-- most notably Jubilee.








From the mid-80's to 1998, she owned 3 nightclubs in New York City, most famously Nell's (oft mentioned in Bret Easton Ellis' American Psycho), and known for turning away A-list celebrities for fun. You may recognize the lounge in The Notorious B.I.G.'s video "Big Poppa", because not only did he frequent the place, but he shot the video here.  After being reincarnated as A through  C list celeb hangout NA, Nell's Nightclub became The Plumm in 2006, another club trying on the exclusive vibe, but I'm pretty sure the space has has already had its hay day. 

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

NEVER LEGO OF NYC!

I LEGO NEW YORK By Christopher Niemann
During the cold and dark Berlin winter days, I spend a lot of time with my boys in their room. And as I look at the toys scattered on the floor, my mind inevitably wanders back to New York.





Monday, September 29, 2008

Koreoketown




I started making a list of awesome karaoke songs I always sing, and most of them just happened to be from the 80's. People wore shorter shorts, and had funner hair cuts then (See?)-- No other explanation.

Awesome Karaoke in Koreatown Went Like This:

1. Bon Jovi- Livin' on a Prayer (Twice)
2. Guns 'n' Roses- Sweet Child O' Mine
3. J. Geils Band- Angel In The Centerfold
4. Heart- Magic Man
5. Journey- Don't Stop Believin'
6. Madonna- Like a Prayer
7. Aerosmith- Crazy
8. The Knack- My Sharona
9. The Clash- Should I Stay Or Should I Go
10. Abba- Waterloo (There were a lot of Swedes there.)

I've written before about how much I love karaoke. What I didn't write about is that the love of busting a note (A NOTE!) runs through my blood. My grandma is an amazing singer, and my dad is quite a songbird himself. Luckily, some of us (them) inherited a bit more talent than others (me). 

My dad is kind of obsessed with a website called Singsnap. It's a social networking site that's half karaoke, and half American Idol. People sing along to any of the hundreds of midi files of popular tunes uploaded on the site, and are given the opportunity to compete in competitions organized by other members via message boards. Many people include videos of themselves singing, some make slideshows, and some don't allow any visuals at all. 

Here's my dad performing Sweet Child O' Mine (He's even got the Axl sway down). Yes, the absurdly cute child in the slideshow is me (and the other pics of some person in their weird late teens-- well, I plead the fifth on that one.)
 


Though I find the site a bit strange, I understand the attraction. My dad claims it's good for his soul to perform for these strangers, much like playing dumb about belting out "Since You Been Gone" in the shower when you know damn well everyone in your apartment building can hear you. Their slogan is "Singsnap- Like You've Got Something Better To Do." I get that, but I still prefer to just take a couple tequila shots, and let the eighties hits fly IN PUBLIC! So, when I go back to North Carolina for the holidaze, I'm determined to get my pops to a local karaoke night.

Friday, August 15, 2008

www.drunkataparty.blogspot.com

Bust's 15th anniversary was last Tuesday night. There were singers, there were dancers, there were comediennes, and romancers--- BUT most of all there were good times and drink tickets.



YAY! Happy bday Bust!

Saturday, June 28, 2008

C'est la vie

I don't know what it is about summertime that makes me want to do nothing but lounge around at cafes, sipping wine, eating cheese, and pretending I am proper Bourgeoisie, but that seems to be the case these days. A case, I might add that is driving me to the poor house! Ah! C'est la vie!

LAST FRIDAY:
I met Katherine at Cafe Gitane a teeny-tiny extremely popular, sometimes deemed trendy, French-Moroccan joint in Nolita. We arrived early, as the place always fills up fast, and actually got a table right away. I've had experiences where the staff has been slightly snobbish, but this time around our server was sweet as the honey atop our gorgonzola walnut crumble. The menu consists of several reasonably priced (Talking one to two dollar signs!) small plates, and a well-chosen, but relatively short wine list. I think Cafe Gitane is best for sipping wine, enjoying the night air (which drifts in frequently through the open door on nice nights), and snack until your tummy is full. Katherine and I started with a salad (a special that evening) then split a sandwich (Organic Roasted Chicken chipotle mayonnaise fresh parmesan roasted tomatoes on toasted baguette), and followed with some cheese for dessert.

Les Fleurs (and Mints)


Gorgonzola, Walnuts, and Honey


WEDNESDAY:
My friend Holly is setting off in a couple weeks for Zambia where she will be working with the Lubuto Library Project for quite some time. She didn't make it to my birthday party, so we had a joint nice-to-see-you-again/farewell dinner at Tartine, another tiny French establishment. This one is located on a quaint side street of the West Village, not too far from Carrie Bradshaw's house and the Marc Jacobs store (Don't be surprised if you get asked for directions to either while in the area.) Tartine is BYOB, so I brought my fave aforementioned rose, and arrived early, because this place fills up just as quickly as Cafe Gitane--And no, they do NOT take names for a wait list-- First come, first served! Luckily, Holly and I scored a perfect table outside, and shared a delicious Beet and Goat Cheese Salad and a heaping pot of Mussels. We ordered another item, but were too stuffed to eat it. (The server was extremely rude when we wanted to cancel the order, but eventually she relented, and cancelled it.) Little did I know, but Holly had brought another bottle of sparkling wine in celebration of my birthday, because she had missed my party last month. She also ordered us two desserts-- a blackberry cobbler, which was delicious served a la mode, and an intensely rich mousse served with raspberries. I can't say I'll be kissing the staff at Tartine on both cheeks any time soon, but I'll definitely return, and make them kiss mine.

Remnants of the salad: Red Beets, Corn, Goat Cheese, Pine Nuts, Endive


Mussels in White Wine Sauce (One qualm: They needed more juice for dipping!)

Trying to hear a tiny ocean...

Mussel Beach


Surprise! Blackberry Cobbler and Chocolate Mousse

Oh, then we found this amazing hippie van right across the street from Carrie Bradshaw's house, and Holly just happened to look like she owned it.  (I never even watched Sex and the City, btw.)

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Cool Points

While googling images of my newest favorite cheap Rose to send a friend today, I somehow ended up at nymag.com, who is running a story entitled Punk Like Them as part of their "Summer Issue." In this story, journalist Alex Morris follows a gaggle of rag tag kids who hang out/live on St. Marks on a night of merrymaking and self-destruction to see what the new old-school punks are up to. What did Morris find among these Colt 45 guzzlers and corporate cafe haters? Looks to me like a bunch of typical teenagers.

Choice quotes:

“I heard about St. Marks in a Casualties song,” he says, “so I’m like, ‘Wait a second, I want to hang out there.’ ”

“Hey, what’s up?” he calls out to a girl walking past in plaid pants and a Casualties shirt. She pauses long enough for him to know he might have a chance. “You’re really hot. Come over here.”

“Yuppies are assholes,” Miquel agrees. “This is St. Marks. They should go away.”

"I don’t discriminate,” Suvy reasons, grinning at Mariya. “I hate everybody besides punks.”

“No one has a right to tell anyone else what to do,” Greg says. “Like, it’s your life, you should be in control of it. I don’t pay for anything—just drugs. They don’t tax drug dealers.”

“I want to die young. Once I hit like 30, I want to start being really self-destructive and just see what happens. Like ride around in cars really fast and do crazy stuff—even though I already do that now, so I can’t really say I’m going to do it.”
“Eric, you lose cool points for taking me here,” says Greg.


Of course, Morris could be twisting this to make these kids look immature, but then I find myself pondering the question: How long does that kid have to panhandle to buy enough Aqua-Net to get that mohawk to stand-up high enough? At least he can use his hair product to get high, as well as increase the crown of his coif, I guess. Kill two birds with one stone, right? Hopefully, he doesn't kill himself in the process. Secondly, since when was supporting Colt 45 (whose brand is owned by Pabst, Budweiser's key competitor) NOT supporting "the man" any more than Chipotle or Dunkin' Donuts. Everybody has their vices--and consume too much of either and you're likely to get FAT and/or DEAD! No "cool points" there, dude.

I understand the appeal of the lifestyle. Disagreement and unrest with the government is common; Wanting to live without rules is legitimate; Self-destruction and the desire to get fucked up is a pretty good way to disappear from the world for awhile. Unfortunately, it's a pretty negative, naive, and cowardly lifestyle. Using the music to vent can prove to be positive, but mixed in the pot with live fast, die young and foolish is pretty silly. My stepbrother spent his late teens and early twenties in sweet rebellion, hating his parents, my mom, school, the world, in general. At some point, he abandoned all and hopped trains from North Carolina to New Orleans. He disappeared for a long time, but to my knowledge, was squatting while down there, battling heroin addiction, and gaining some gnarly tattoos (one in which looks like someone just took the needle and scribbled on his arm for an hour or so--He gained some beautiful ones too, though.) Somehow he made it back to North Carolina, ditched the drugs, refuses to watch any movie that references them (i.e. Trainspotting), and married a woman, who later became a stripper and the mother of his child. Phew! Now they are divorced, and I haven't see him in 8 or 9 years. He contacts my stepdad occasionally when he needs dough. Fuck corporations, fuck the man, fuck comfort, fuck eating, fuck living, yuppies suck. Good ideas. I'm sure his daughter feels that way.

**I do love the collection of photos by Mike Brodie, documenting trainhopping kids and squatters. I always think of my stepbro and Woody Guthrie when I see them, and part of me longs for the adventure.


Tuesday, June 17, 2008

You're Everything That a Big Bad Wolf Could Want



Jules et Jim Crack Corn and I Don't Care

I love the way that food tends to remain the center of life for all no matter age, race, gender, or locale. The reason is obvious and simple: To live we must eat. However, the sentimentality of food is much more important to me than its necessity. It is the glue that binds societies and cultures, and provides a feeling of stability and comfort-- unless it's the glue you're eating anyway. Don't do that. Eating glue is for weirdos.

I've worked in restaurants on and off throughout my time in New York City, and spent a considerable amount of my free time in them, as well. I consider dining a hobby, as well as cooking, and I'd much rather spend my extra cash on a great meal than a great dress. My main reason for this being that I can share the experience with someone else. If you find yourself roped into a meal with me, expect to have my fork in your plate, as much as my own food forced upon you.

These habits can surely be attributed to my upbringing, as no matter the disfunction that infiltrated my family or the hustle of the day, my mother always made sure that we were sitting together for dinnertime. I have fond memories of her rising early every Saturday morning to bake biscuits and fry sausage gravy and eggs, our large family Thanksgivings where I helped my Mawmaw plop pats of dough into bubbling chicken broth for her famous "Dumplins", and my mom's tradition of serving quiche on Christmas morning. Even days that weren't marked on the calendar as "special" were made special by our meals. I find myself doing the same in my own life as I always get a little excited when my boyfriend follows work each day with the call, "What're we gonna make for dinner tonight?"

Saturday night we went to one of my favorite spots in the city, Jules on St. Marks. It's a dimly lit little french bistro, where each night around 9pm a live band plays old blues and jazz tunes, along with some originals. I love going to this place, because it's great for two to order a bottle of wine (huge winelist), a few appetizers, and split an entree, and be completely satisfied. My absolute favorite item on the menu is the escargot which is sauteed in garlic and parsley butter that is best sopped up by the ample bread provided. Since we went with a couple friends the other night, the menu selections were doubled. See below for some visuals (I told you the place was dimly lit!)

Chicken in Lemon Sauce with Mashed Potatoes and Vegetables

Sea Scallops and Asparagus Risotto

Desserts (We had the Chocolate Fondant. My fave part was the vanilla ice cream made with real cream!)

Quail egg from the Steak Tartare

To dine and to ditch?

We're so happy, we're frowning.