rokk stars

he warned me. he said they would change my life. i thought he was just over-selling. but i'm beginning to think he was right.

the sound is compelling. and thankfully up-lifting. and oddly reflective. somehow inspring really.

but playful all at the same time.

and i find that i keep hitting repeat.

zibbidy-ba-ba

there seemed to be but a few things that could be redeeming about this evening's plan. but it was still irresistable. afterall, for whatever reason, my roommate bree and i have developed a strange relationship with corey feldman. or rather, all things related to corey feldman.

it all started innocently enough. we simply watched the dvd extras of the classic film, "The Goonies." and found corey feldman being very . . . corey feldman. as bree aptly described him, "he's like one of those crazy morning djs."

before i knew it, it had snowballed. it seemed that everywhere i looked, corey feldman - or at least his name and image - appeared. it's as if he was following me. i know. bizarre. and perhaps it doesn't even sound that likely or even that unbearable. and if it had been most other 80s child actors . . . well, i just might have felt differently. ricky schroeder? no problem. ralph macchio? alright. gary coleman? . . . maybe. oh but that feldman!

so there i was the other morning. i had just gone downstairs to get my morning coffee at jack's. and i glanced over the neighborhood fliers jack tends to have lying about. and what did my eyes see?

the words: corey feldman.

WHAT?

impossible.

i snatched up the flier. marched upstairs to bree and threw it in front of her face, demanding that she examine it.

corey feldman is currently starring in "Fatal Attraction: A Greek Tragedy" at a local theater. it's a campy spin on the 80s film written - we recently discovered - by one of our neighbors. and, did i mention, starring corey feldman.

so we decided we must go. and we went tonight. and i'll be damned. it was actually funny. funny as hell. we laughed our asses off. it had just about everything we could ask for:

overtly campy.
based on an 80s film.
a story about a chick who goes psycho over an unavailable guy.
sound effected psycho voices.
anime moments.
a donnie darko bunny suit.
a modern-dance inspired dream sequence.
corey feldman dancing.
corey feldman singing.
and . . .
corey feldman.

snow in august

it was beautiful today. just perfect. so this evening, my friend luke and i took advantage of the weather and drifted to the park. we found ourselves perched on the top tier of the central fountain with a perfect view of the arch and within perfect earshot of the dozens of performers filling the air with various sounds coming from all corners of the park.

we'd been sitting for awhile and had already been approached twice. at the same time actually. you should've seen the two beggars scoff at one another as they worked to beat each other out of a gig. one merely asking for a cigarette, the other selling his newspapers. but they were in it to win it.

but it was later that the true winner came along. . .

out of no where, a handsome young black man placed a cell phone in my open hand and, speaking hurriedly, insisted, "listen to this message. it's from my mother. she had a colonoscopy yesterday. everything's fine. it's fine. it's fine. it's the nicest message. listen to it. then press 11. let him listen to it. it's the best message." as i attempted to listen, i saw him jumping to speak to luke. and he couldn't sit still.

i thought three things: he either really wants to meet luke. or he's coked up. or both.

he introduced himself as "roland." and about 20 seconds into telling us we needed to come get drinks with him, our new friend whipped out some coke, did a quick hit, and wiped his nose. repeatedly. and then he actually said, "don't do this. you gotta be smooth. there's cops everywhere. i'm just really good at it. because i'm an actor. so no one can tell." he said all of this as he continued to wipe his nose, rapidly scan the park, and ask us, "am i ok? am i ok?"

since his attention span was all of a milli-second long, he had trouble completing his thoughts. and he repeatedly asked if we were nice people and if we thought he was nice. at one point, as he was launching into - i think - another story about his being an actor. when he interrupted himself - again - to ask luke and me a question.

he asked: "which do you like better roland or roddy?"

luke responded: "roland"

i agreed: "roland"

roland responded: "i'd like you to call me roddy."

luke and i burst into uncontrollable laughter. and roland - or roddy - didn't understand why.

i think he STILL doesn't understand why. and luke and i are still laughing.

save yourself!

or maybe it's like a cult. where you're strategically sucked in. broken down. manipulated. and the longer you're a part of it, the harder it is to get out. the stronger the pull to stay. surrounded by decadence and sin, you find yourself intoxicated. unable to completely withdraw. you've been exposed. you've seen the other side of the rainbow. or the dark side of the moon. depending on the day. and you start to wonder, "where do i go from here? where else do i go that will understand me? or this place i've been?" no where else seems possible. it all seems foreign.

. . . "Sometimes he wonders if he should leave. Should he leave? The truth is, after only a few months, he finds it hard to imagine living anywhere else besides Manhattan. Once he could have. But since then the island seems to have ruined him for life elsewhere. For six months, he realizes, he has not crossed either river even once. He recalls Woody Allen in "Annie Hall," driving in a daze through Beverly Hills at Christmas. To the rest of the world, even to his hometown and the town where he went to college, he has become allergic." (David Leavitt, 'The Town That Gags Its Writers') . . .

and so there are others. others like me. quietly wondering if this is home. or if we should hop the fence. wondering what we would really miss. but also wondering where in the hell we'd be heading to. . .

the good, the bad, and the ugly

sooner or later, you figure out that living in new york is like committing yourself to any other relationship. you're initially infatuated, fall in love, and your faith gets tested.

and it even becomes a little love-hate.

you start out in the honeymoon, where everything is magical and beautiful and sparks are flying. it's truly electrifying. everything from walking out the door, the coffee shop across the street, the characters on the benches, the musicians on the subway platforms, the dogs squatting to shit - it all is nothing short of inspiring. you feel as though, "this is it. nothing can be better than this. i can't imagine a more incredible and wondrous place on this earth. i've found IT."

it becomes deeper. and more meaningful. as you learn all of the nuances and idiosyncrasies of the city. all of the twists and turns of the village. exploring the grid of the rest of the island. zipping along the underground rails. meandering through the parks. uncovering the hidden gems of divebars and diners and shops that have been around for ages. you figure out what is "yours."

then there's almost inevitably something that will happen to shake things up. IS this it? "do you love me as much as you claim?" the city demands to know. and you must suddenly shuffle through the history of your relationship. the good, the bad, and the oh so ugly.

you remind the city . . . i'd like to be able to fucking afford you! afford an apartment on my own. i'd like to have my dog back. i'd like to have some luxury back. i'd like to not constantly be stepping through trash swirls! as i stand waiting for the subway, i look around and realize that it's totally fucked up that men, women, and children stand UNDERGROUND with dirty water dripping all over them waiting for an even dirtier smellier vault to shoot them across town. and all pray that we don't stall, mid-tunnel, along the way. in the winter, we freeze our asses off. in the summer, we're constantly walking through the thick heat and stench of garbage, sewage, and sweat.

and the city reminds you . . . i'm also thick with culture. and history. and stories. and you can't get through a day without smiling with me. at least once. you know that. i put you shoulder to shoulder with reality everyday. and beauty. not naive beauty. but real beauty. and diversity. i challenge you. i make you think. and i make you grow up. and some part of you not only wants that. and needs that. but loves that.

and so you remember.

iPod or iWalk?

i love my ipod. and i love walking around this city. but more and more i'm figuring out that it is utterly dangerous to combine the two.

i have, on more than one occasion, been so entranced by the music or the gadget itself that i've failed to notice oncoming traffic.

it's truly life-threatening.

i literally almost got smacked by a bus one day. A BUS.

so this morning i was crossing the street without use of the crosswalk of course and as i was halfway to the other side and casually turning my head to the right - not even with the intention of glancing for traffic, but merely to look about - i found myself nose to nose with an suv. an suv that had kindly slammed on its brakes within a few inches of where i was standing.

they should put warning labels on these ipods:

walk at your own risk.

spotless

i'm thinking i would like to eternal sunshine my mind...

foolproof

walking on the upper east side today, i came upon a police suv with a small crowd gathered around it. mostly cops but there were also a few burly, scruffy-looking men in street clothes hanging around. as i got closer, i realized that it wasn't a crime scene i was walking up to. the group of men were collaborating, brainstorming, and tackling the job of breaking into the police suv. . . within which one of the city's finest had locked his keys. . .

glad they had some of those everyday folks around to help out. need to leave that kind of work to the professionals.

gee. thanks for the tip

on my way home this afternoon, a new announcement was made to subway passengers:

"Ladies and gentlemen, riding on the outside of subway cars is dangerous. Always remain INSIDE the subway cars."

perhaps this has become a problem.

once....there was this boy...who....

a man sat across from me on the train this morning. his left eye had typical dark eyelashes. the right eye had completely white eyelashes.

i don't think i've ever seen a matched set of all white eyelashes before. let alone a mis-matched white and brown set.

how does that happen....?

on a downtown train

sure. seeing celebrities in new york is pretty much an everyday occurrence. the faces on magazine covers and billboards are suddenly also sitting across from you at the coffeeshop and subway....

sitting on the downtown c train the other night, marcy and i realized we practically had the train to ourselves. except for a couple sitting across from us. rob schneider and a curvy young blonde. and as we pulled into the 34th street subway platform, there - through the window, over rob's left shoulder - was his face on the "deuce bigalow: european gigalo" billboard.....

huh. that was weird.

a beautiful day in the neighborhood

i know i keep remarking on my neighborhood. but it's remarkable. not just for new york. i think it's remarkable period. no! exclamation point!

today, i left my building, turned the corner and there's a leather store i've never gone into before. i mean, i don't generally have reason to go into a leather store. but a bag displayed in the window caught my eye. so, what the hell, i stepped inside. and i was immediately greeted by the owner.

he grabbed one of the bags off of the shelf. it's on sale! still too rich for my blood. sigh. yet as the man and i talked, it quickly occurred to him, "do you live in the neighborhood?" i confirmed that yes i in fact live right around the corner. suddenly his face brightened and he proclaimed "well then! i'll take off ten more dollars!" eventually he took off twenty dollars. even though i told him i wouldn't be buying it that evening. he explained this to his other salesman and told me that whenever i decided to come in and buy this bag i can have it for not just the sale price, but $20 off the sale price.

see?

that is neighborly.

so i laughed and thanked him for his kindness. and began to leave. suddenly he stopped me and said "wait. since you're a neighbor, let me give you a gift! what are your initials?" at this point, i was utterly baffled. but i obliged and shared my four initials with him. within minutes he presented me with a custom-made keychain. monogrammed! not something i would typically go looking for but a lovely gesture nonetheless.

see?

that is neighborly.