Getting Gigli With It
Back from my last weekend in hot sticky NYC for a while. There is something both amazing and comforting about the fact that with some people, it seems impossible to lose time. This was probably in some respects, the least productive weekend I've had in New York in ages, but there was something comforting about that too. I met up with my entourage on Saturday afternoon, dipping way into lower Manhattan down by Yoshi's new stomping ground near Wall Street and the southern seaport. This trip definitely expanded my Manhattan geography, but after a little reunion downtown with Dan and Yosh (later to be joined by the long lost in Siberia FX and Mistah Cooper) we went back onto less-foreign territory, namely Murray Hill's finest Italian food under $13 and then well drinks at Rodeo. Situated upstairs on my favorite yellow leatherette wicker couch, the scene really thickened as the night set in and the heavy monsoons came. Our Midd-clan expanded with various characters, some floating in by way of ritzy CT suburbs and two French girls that remotely knew Yoshi but remained present without a full explanation or proper introduction. I was having a wonderful time - challenged and tickled by stories from Siberia, Boston, career plans, and political insults. In real calendar time, I hadn't seen the Midd kids since graduation and Andrew for almost a year, but after a beer we were nestled back into a timeless nook of endless car trips and late nights with gin and tonics. The highest compliment I could give this group is that they each seem to become smarter every time I see them, it is remarkable because I'd group them into a very exclusive set of geniuses that I know, but they wear the title well.
I am most accustomed to seeing the Rodeo Bar in the Happy Hour light, but as I learned at night, the crowds pour in - including one actor that left me blushing, the little boy cute Ethan Embry from
Can't Hardly Wait. At some point, the weather intervened, thus canceling our plans to go drink at a seedy BYOB jazz club in the Village and instead, chose a more upscale destination, Nate Young's father's apartment on the Upper East, settling in there until the middle of the night over more stories about Middlebury's finest and Russia's most shocking.
A cat nap later, we met up in Chinatown with plans for Dim Sum. Of course the great irony of all walks through Canal Street is that it always seems impossible to find anything to eat in Chinatown, aside from inside-out duck in a shop window. Everyone was late and when we finally met up, we walked circles through Chinese markets, fake purse stands, and Mulberry Street until we ended up, expectedly, at Joe's Shanghai. Thankfully Joe's always comes through with Shanghai style noodles, scallion pancakes, and perfect dumplings and everyone forgives my inability to read a map or navigate the streets south of Union Square. From there, it was like any other hot Sunday in any other city. It was too hot to decide to do anything... Several hours and several blocks later we spontaneously agreed and went to see
NorthFork, or what will herein be described as
the worst movie ever. A few summers ago, I really enjoyed the Polish brothers first stab at film making,
Twin Falls Idaho, but their latest attempt at the silver screen tarnished in the can. This movie was terrible. The story, the dialogues, the performances... it simply fell apart, offered nothing, and miserably mimicked David Lynch with a heavy hand and second-rate script. Decsiviness led us nowhere. Thankfully a trip up to John's new place on the Upper Eastside rescued us from a deliberately drag experience with levity and humor. It was good to see John and he made us laugh and I felt very fortunate to see his place and see him was seemingly "one last time." My whole move has been surrounded with that kind of "one last time" mentality and as each of my friends hugged me goodbye and wished me well on my move, I was reminded of what I was leaving behind and that before me lies a kind of rebirth, but it still has that eerie death-row kind of feel to it. The rest of the night was spent in a diner and falling asleep downtown. It was a very full trip, an intense 48hrs joined at the hip with some great characters and conversation really carried the time and colored the city.
Today was a lazy, unemployed, TNT-watching Monday (the best kind of Mondays). Andrew and I took our sweet time coming back to Connecticut this afternoon, making it back in spite of the heat and my continous inability to correctly read a map. As expected, I wasn't itching to get packing upon my return and tonight will probably be given over to HBO's repeats of last night's line up and little else, maybe a phone call or two. Chet was here for dinner, the first time I've seen him following the stroke and the whole experience was surreal. Time to sulk off now and continue not-packing.
posted by lmjasinski at 8:06 PM
