tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-177020762012-02-16T04:58:03.165-05:00NYC :: London :: SydneyWestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comBlogger3371100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-46219652234909721192008-06-12T15:12:00.008-05:002008-12-11T07:53:03.290-05:00

Saw Chris live for the first time recently, opening for Xiu Xiu at ULU. He sang solo, no cellist unfortunately, and despite the din his sound was sublime. Impossibly cute, too. I'm a big fan. Xiu Xiu, as expected, were insane. Huge noise, good energy. They make more sense live, I think. I'm sort of ambivalent about Xiu Xiu. Very cool crowd.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-29932681622820726612008-05-13T16:05:00.006-05:002008-12-11T07:53:04.824-05:00

UPDATE: A (shaky) video I shot of the speeches before the film, including an appearance by the four actors and a few short words by SJP at the end:Thanks to a brilliant friend I managed to score tickets to last night's world premiere of the Sex and the City movie at Leicester Square in London and also to the absolutely stupendously wonderful after party at the Old Billingsgate. We walked down the

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-50168588270971669652008-04-26T17:23:00.004-05:002008-12-11T07:53:06.053-05:00

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-51130417061644376122008-04-01T01:02:00.007-05:002008-12-11T07:53:06.443-05:00

:: 'Stephanie Beacham', 2008

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-43539041516836279512008-03-26T19:10:00.021-05:002008-12-11T07:53:06.624-05:00

:: 'This Is Sex', 2008

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-84160607604204198082008-03-21T02:44:00.025-05:002009-07-13T07:00:32.370-05:00

More photos here

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-86289376000328066882008-03-10T17:42:00.008-05:002008-03-10T20:22:27.375-05:00

HOWEVERI am going to Berlin on Thursday, so if you happen to know something useful, now is the time to leave a comment or send me a note with thrilling ideas for wondrous German times, full of joy, and wonder, and time. In Germany. For example:(a) names of bars with employees who look like THAT. (I'm pointing at the photo in the post below.)(b) addresses of sophisticated old theater-going ladies

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-32943335943803508612008-03-03T14:50:00.007-05:002008-12-11T07:53:08.501-05:00

Budapest is like when you see a hot ass in a heavy crowd and think, Wow! and then your eyes trail up and you realize it's connected to a really old lady. And you shudder and feel dirty because you were totally turned on. And then you try to think of construction equipment or derivatives trading because neither have anything to do with really old ladies, and maybe if you think about those things

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-22531677032196904882008-02-17T13:14:00.035-05:002008-12-11T07:53:09.522-05:00

Contrary to (wishful) speculation I did not elope to Iceland. Or to anywhere. I did spend a recent afternoon with the Sultan of Brunei's daughter but that's another story. I've also been indulging myself in a mild existential 'reassessment' (which sounds far better than 'crisis') and so far things are progressing nicely. I'm eating less wheat, for example, and silently forgiving estranged

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-70649581888524992412008-02-08T08:37:00.002-05:002008-12-11T07:53:09.595-05:00

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-46026693225595465762008-02-04T04:47:00.001-05:002008-12-11T07:53:10.083-05:00

This will probably (hopefully?) be the last I'll say on the subject but, for my own record, it has now been over a year since I quit smoking. My official quit date (according to an old post on this blog) was January 22, 2007. I remember having a bad date about a week later and smoking a single cigarette as dull compensation (and then throwing the remaining pack away in dull fury). Being now

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-16456966868354930172008-01-27T13:12:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:10.768-05:00

I prefer listening to Architecture in Helsinki than viewing architecture in Helsinki. The city was very cold and as predicted, the sky snowed from midday. Within two hours the streets were blanketed and the harsh grayness turned quaint and pretty. We almost slipped. We found a room full of ghosts by the side of the road. We stopped to play. The rest was all light, and dark, and an abundance of

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-14299447924853906472008-01-23T19:10:00.000-05:002008-01-24T23:00:19.216-05:00

Arrived just after midnight in the capital of Finland and watched a handsome, young, thickly-bearded lad (Brad Pitt during his facial hair period) sweep the shiny white floors of a very bare international terminal. Nothing feels so far away, or so large, as an empty airport in an strange town. Brad Pitt sipped Pepsi between sweeps - a captivating rhythm! - and I listened to Asobi Seksu discuss

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-89871232488153761722008-01-20T13:06:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:11.184-05:00

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-39108905061385179382008-01-16T10:16:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:11.301-05:00

Just back into London after a couple nights in Munich earlier this week. Here's the Facebook album for anyone interested, commentary included. We walked the city center and managed to fit in, towards the end, a quick visit to the Dachau concentration camp. We happened to arrive on the one day of the week when the site is closed, which wasn't a bad thing. 2,000 people visit every other day. I

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-29141618284334446462008-01-12T21:08:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:11.446-05:00

There were two boysat the Tatedressed perfect,a perfect two,in tight pantsand long coatsand loose hair;and their dancewas astoundingand very lovelyto watch.And in the endwhen they touchedit shook the ground,even the ground;it split the concrete;and people ranto see the crack,but missed the boys.The boys were gone

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-3004268874030245992008-01-07T10:10:00.000-05:002008-01-07T03:27:26.824-05:00

Do I look terrorist-y? I'm usually ushered through airport security with a curt smile while the 98-year-old lady behind me gets strip-searched and beaten. Not so lucky this time. This time (out of JFK last week) I was directed to a separate section. Questioned. Had my bag searched. Underwent a full (clothed) body search using the 'back of [his] hand,' which I felt dirty for enjoying. I couldn't

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-18220107827311813852008-01-01T15:09:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:11.818-05:00

It's 2008 and New York, for a week, has been a delight. On the escalators at Barneys, and Saks, and Gucci, and Dior, and Burberry, and possibly Prada, men done in military coats and leather shoes glide silent like perky mannequins or peacock giraffes and make happy gestures with their eyes, and two in particular look very content. They're sharing lip stuff. They're eating sandwiches on a cold

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-5565339899876185622007-12-24T19:43:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:12.160-05:00

Even the air feels new, prickling at my face like the rub of small hands with uncut nails. (Less chilling, now, but just as fresh.) The slim boys in Prada march down Kings Road – stern giants with blond hair and skinny chests – and their jeans don’t fit, or fit perfectly, and it all seems silly (so silly!) and how has it already been three weeks? In the light of New York on Christmas it will

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-42187442074667260512007-12-18T05:36:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:12.334-05:00

In numbered rooms, in foreign places, on streets full of cars, on roughly upholstered armchairs, next to dripping faucets, next to windows locked permanently for the safety of our guests, sit men with worried eyes, sit men with lovers in other towns, sit men reading hotel bibles.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-1826562297814448932007-12-16T13:59:00.001-05:002008-12-11T07:53:12.471-05:00

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-68932916869689918652007-12-12T16:32:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:14.384-05:00

1. Whimsical London. Subway art on the walkway under Wellington Arch.2. Beautiful London. Part of a detailed entry gate at Hyde Park Corner.3. Playful London. Monopoly everywhere. In the tube station below Bond St.4. Retarded London. For people like me who find street crossings terrifying.5. Bored London. When I decide to mark time by photographing my face.6. Amusing London. Street sign in

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-25896572123854670162007-12-09T17:39:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:14.570-05:00

The rubber man in black moved his lips in silence, reached out his right hand, cupped, and shook it at the rush of bodies flying past his face. Please! Food! Help! His palms looked inflated and fatty and swollen, like rubber, like his fingers wouldn’t bend more than a few degrees and maybe the cup was actually a fist and maybe he was trying to fight, not beg.I stood watching from across the

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-79743326578848674262007-12-06T19:56:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:15.416-05:00

A few things you might not have realized about Buckingham Palace:1. The stonework really needs a good clean. Her Majesty should consider investing in a power hose - effective, easy to use, and loads of fun. No more unsightly green moss or unidentified blue stuff.2. For all its pomp and grandeur the palace still understands the importance of a sturdy all-weather broom.3. Up close, the changing of

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-847131896555783272007-12-03T19:53:00.000-05:002007-12-03T21:02:30.037-05:00

I took a train today bound for a place called Cockfosters (which no one else in the carriage seemed to find amusing) and spent the morning listening to Philip Glass and pretending I was Virginia Woolf - in a non-transsexual, assuredly masculine sort of way - freshly back in the capital and off to buy flowers, ginger and ink. I'm used to 24 hour delis and ice cream at 3 a.m. Tonight I fell asleep

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-49014239336185266952007-12-02T05:44:00.000-05:002007-12-02T20:28:42.172-05:00

Just arrived in London where it's raining and cold. Which is no surprise at all, being London, and considering I love the cold and rather like the rain, not a bad state of affairs altogether. Currently in Notting Hill enjoying two cups of coffee, eggs on toast, and free wireless internet. Surrounded on all sides by persons of impeccable style. Suddenly wish I'd packed more fancy clothes. Weary at

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-37274037462340502352007-11-30T03:56:00.001-05:002008-12-11T07:53:15.901-05:00

He fiddles six simultaneous tunes on one violin while also playing a keyboard, drinking a beer, and singing about impotence. It's very beautiful and thoroughly unique. Plus he's gay, and cute, and goofy. There's nothing bad about this man. Below is a video someone else took of him doing a cover of Mariah Carey's 'Fantasy' which he also did when we saw him. It's funny and ear-pleasing. It's also

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-182782283598664322007-11-28T04:25:00.000-05:002007-11-28T15:09:18.432-05:00

War and Peace?Excuse me?Your book. Is it War and Peace?Oh. No. David Copperfield. Do you like Dickens?Yes. Very much. I love Great Expectations.Me too. Me too!Do you live here?Yes. I mean, what do you mean?Is this a residential building?Oh. Yes. I live here. It’s residential.Not all of it. Perfect location though. You’re smart.Thanks. I love this neighborhood.I don't blame you. So, where are you

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-55281365558533715302007-11-24T20:22:00.000-05:002007-11-24T21:32:08.959-05:00

The old king of Australia whose name you didn't know, John Howard, just got defeated by a man whose name you'll soon forget, Kevin Rudd. By mentioning this single fact at your next dinner party you will appear smart, SEXY, and very international. Just remember: Kevin, which sounds like heaven, which is the opposite of hell, which is what Australia will become now that the Labour Party is in power

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-31838766687516838912007-11-22T01:23:00.000-05:002007-11-24T21:33:16.149-05:00

Pygmalion is trash. Don't bother. Jefferson Mays, who I absolutely loved in I Am My Own Wife a few years back, is the only worthwhile element in an otherwise rubbish production. (Helen Carey, as the professor's mother, is also sort of wonderful but her part is very limited.) Claire Danes was, well, let's not be mean. The point of this post isn't to review the play. It's to tell you about the

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-90611080280372840462007-11-19T02:03:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:16.134-05:00

And she has this thing where she wants to fuck a white girl, and then fuck me in the ass. She's very attractive. Really. Killer legs and just a bundle of energy. Lots of fun. I usually swing straight but hey, I love this girl. And I'm not sure this technically counts as 'gay' anyway. Look there she is. Hey sweetie! What.did.I.tell.you? Killer! Ooohhhh....I love you too! Kisses![Source: a friendly

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-89694113339610167022007-11-08T18:17:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:17.041-05:00

There's a chance we never met. I see him often - we're practically neighbors - but his face is a ghost and it changes with the clouds. A city face.It began in a deli by Bleecker Street between fluorescent aisles of cleaning detergent, Twinkies and frozen pizza. His eyes were dark and he looked about forty-five. I felt bratty, worn, and altogether in the mood for cheap attention. The night had

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-20128642291481619922007-10-19T17:33:00.001-05:002007-11-03T02:44:47.047-05:00

Shot Tuesday night - Regina Spektor performing 'Hotel Song' instrument-free with Only Son beatboxing beside her (my finger touched the mic a bunch of times and messed up the sound - sorry). The show was magnificent even if the Hammerstein was a bad choice. Definitely one of my favorite live performers and just as good this time round as in Sydney (although that show felt a little more intimate

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-39926045923458024302007-10-16T13:44:00.000-05:002007-10-16T13:12:56.936-05:00

Someone stumbled on this blog recently by searching Google for: what to do if homeless man is on stoop NY. Horror of horrors! (Honey, what's that on the steps...Oh.My.God. Don't say anything. Just fetch me my laptop.) They found some old post about cops 'escorting' a homeless man off a fancy lady's stoop last December. I'm concerned, however, that the reader's specific query wasn't adequately

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-41220630978690427422007-10-15T01:10:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:17.419-05:00

This week has been particularly musical. Saturday we caught Of Montreal's stellar show at the Roseland Ballroom. It was big fun (how could this band not be?) and typically theatrical, including one sword fighting episode, below, between a shirtless Kevin Barnes and a masked, spandex-clad gray man. As you do. No nudity this time round just insanely skinny jeans, which I love on guys able to pull

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-10702613533813088352007-10-12T09:54:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:17.574-05:00

Here's Tori doing her double keyboard thing (and gyrating) last night in New York. Her best show ever according to my friend who's seen her six times. Which seems slightly excessive. She should have played more of her recent stuff for fake fans like me who only caught on a few years ago. But I guess that's our problem.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-55652395769468288282007-10-08T16:27:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:17.952-05:00

Managed happily to get a last minute ticket to Saturday's sold-out 'Evening with Sigur Rós', part of the three day New Yorker Festival which started Friday.The band performed a short acoustic set, premiered their new DVD documentary, Heima, and conducted an interview/Q&A session with the audience. I love their music and my seat was practically on the stage so needless to say I had a blast. The

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-19250583944806782052007-10-06T09:43:00.000-05:002007-10-06T10:20:13.282-05:00

Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem, Sigur Ros (x2) and Fiona Apple all in one day is why New York rocks. Actually getting tickets is another story.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-25086058678438839682007-10-01T15:51:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:18.459-05:00

A middle-aged black man skating around Central Park in spandex pants that leave nothing to the imagination. Eyes closed, music loud, swaying blissfully to the beat of another world. And graceful like the Little Mermaid on crack. I think we all have something to learn from this man.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-41144629246927462472007-09-28T00:28:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:18.870-05:00

You must see The Bubble, the latest film by Israeli director Eytan Fox. It's the story of an Israeli soldier who falls in love with a Palestinian man and it's fairly magnificent. I loved it especially for its portrayal of Tel Aviv. It captured perfectly the guts and the vibrancy of the place, and the righteous energy of its people. The title refers to Tel Aviv's purported mental isolation and

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-46791009490418885762007-09-24T14:35:00.000-05:002007-09-24T15:48:54.249-05:00

I'm gone five months and the whole show falls apart. Saturday (the 9th) was the last Misshapes ever. Mr. Black was shuttered indefinitely after a drug raid three weeks ago. Chumley's has become an ugly construction site. Eastern Bloc is full of dancing queens. Condomania is dead. Rafaella (the one on 7th) is gone. The bestest deli ever and the site of so much late night joy blew away. Marc Jacobs

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-35472796832885838632007-09-24T02:55:00.000-05:002007-09-24T13:47:07.820-05:00

This year I spent the holiest day on the Jewish calender on Fire Island - a.k.a. the dirty, slutty, and VERY gay Long Island cousin of the much classier, pastel-hued Hamptons. I didn't realize the clash when we planned the trip. Still, I'm a bad Jew. A very bad Jew. I spent the day of atonement on a train bound for the island of sin. I'm hoping God appreciates the irony. Or at least recognizes

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-63817607701934667582007-09-20T17:46:00.000-05:002007-09-20T18:21:55.481-05:00

And even if I was, I still might not get into the Forbes 400. You now need $1.3 billion just to qualify. I'm even further from the mark than I was last year. These lists trouble the same bit of my brain that lights up when I hear about successful former classmates or Dakota Fanning's last paycheck. So today I spent three hours drinking beer with a friend in a park by the Hudson River. In a

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-22071884995722639292007-09-17T00:44:00.000-05:002007-09-17T12:44:34.159-05:00

People without a job ('layabouts') spend their weeks: running around crumbling tenement buildings in Park Slope and Williamsburg (they really do make them cuter on the L train). Eating sushi. Laying on wet park benches at 3 a.m. in Union Square dodging cat-sized rats. Spilling wine on neat women in fancy Upper East Side cafes. Lamenting the loss of said wine. Playing with pit bulls at the animal

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-14542121385181645972007-09-13T01:08:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:19.160-05:00

This holiday used to mean something, damnit. As a child it was a time of family reunion, of prayer, ceremony and personal reflection. Now it's just a lonely single man barefoot in an undersized kitchen eating fruit by an open air conditioning vent. Importantly, the apple's organic and the honey's still fresh. Even us bad Jews have standards. Happy (Jewish) New Year!

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-13116046803058626982007-09-11T00:43:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:19.872-05:00

Modest Mouse threw an awesome show Saturday night at the McCarren Park Pool in Brooklyn-town. Big energy, cheap beer and lots of smoke. Richard Serra, earlier in the week, made me feel like a little man about to be boiled by giants in a huge metal pot. Which I love.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-3631361973926484822007-09-08T13:00:00.001-05:002008-12-11T07:53:20.497-05:00

Crossing Seventh Avenue yesterday I was reminded, once again, why I love New York City. This fat old lady made my day in so many ways. I just wish you could have seen her from the front. Nothing ironic. Nothing fun. Quite grumpy, really, and very matter-of-fact. "I don't care what they fucking look like, Henry. Those damn Ray-Bans you bought off that Indian man broke and you know how I hate the

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-25235019817244062502007-09-03T13:12:00.000-05:002007-09-03T13:48:46.377-05:00

Just into Manhattan after a twelve hour flight from Tel Aviv. Kinda tired and a little disoriented. Shocked that the city didn't cease to exist in my absence. Forgot about Labor Day. Banks are closed and now I have no money. Suddenly happy that Starbucks has wireless. Why do coffee shop laptop users always look so annoyingly smug?

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-39616215628297712542007-08-31T16:43:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:22.177-05:00

Thursday was spent in Jerusalem. We explored ancient tunnels beneath the Western Wall (photo 1 below), checked out the Old City, fell asleep on the grass during the midday heat, braved the crazy/wonderful Jerusalem market (photo 2), and ogled hot army boys (photo 3). The army happened to be staging a rehearsal for an upcoming swearing-in ceremony right beside the Wall (photo 4). I SWEAR, I SWEAR,

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-56464894271598591342007-08-28T19:09:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:23.181-05:00

"Your shoes have holes AND you're not wearing socks...RED CARD!!"Those were the words of a distraught looking homeless man who shouted at me in Hebrew through the doorway of a store on Tel Aviv's Dizengoff Street this afternoon. Translation courtesy of the man at the cash register who couldn't stop laughing, first at the homeless scream and second at my terrified shudder.Now, I'm all about

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-51058444508832438442007-08-27T17:06:00.000-05:002007-08-28T21:14:19.542-05:00

Tonight I went to Capital of Peru x 2 and enjoyed a few Stellas and a shot of cranberry-flavored vodka. I then rode home in the warm, damp darkness on a bicycle with a square basket and no foot brakes. I didn't fall over once. The sea here is warm and delicious. The sun disappeared while my head was underwater and now everything feels sandy. Israelis are insanely hot. Insanely! I ate a nectarine

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-42426603376954715492007-08-25T10:10:00.000-05:002007-08-26T14:43:41.905-05:00

Just arrived in Hong Kong after about 8 hours of fun flying on Virgin Atlantic. This is pretty much the first time I've ever abandoned Qantas mostly because I'm a dumb sucker for their loyalty program. Even now I resent not earning Qantas miles on this flight despite the fact that my Virgin ticket was exponentially cheaper than anything Qantas had on offer and hence immediately saved me about 15x

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-28400111258642614172007-08-24T01:07:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:23.402-05:00

Finally! Movement. Sydney's great in short doses but five months (ugh!) is downright obscene. The eastern suburbs shuts down at around 9:30 p.m. which is basically lunchtime and the beach is cold. Plus I've successfully managed to estrange an entire half of my family. My work here is done. I'm leaving for Israel tomorrow in what could be the most anticipated journey in years. Anticipated by me,

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-33110999301144433432007-08-20T09:41:00.000-05:002007-08-20T17:52:38.816-05:00

"What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet." [Woody Allen]An Oxford University philosopher named Nick Bostrom has shown that "it is almost a mathematical certainty that we are living in someone else’s computer simulation." [NYT] His logic is strangely compelling and quite thorough [presented here]. The mere idea somehow makes me feel

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-76657552959717284692007-08-19T06:33:00.000-05:002007-08-19T07:06:14.096-05:00

History Channel: Superweapons of the Ancient World - The City DestroyerNational Geographic: Building the Dubai's Dream Palace - The Burj Al-Arab HotelAnimal Planet: Claws - The Life of CrabsI hate when this happens. I'm leaning towards Superweapons. Obviously if there was anything on about lions we'd have a clear winner.On the topic of TV, the new and highly anticipated series of Kath & Kim aired

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-50028827185794345512007-08-14T10:13:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:23.574-05:00

This sucks. My published time, which came out in today's paper, was around 112 minutes. My actual time on the day (without adjustment) was around 132 minutes. How the fuck can there be only a 20 minute adjustment between the first and last packs if the race winner, who clocked in at around 41 minutes, finished running BEFORE my pack had even started?! The minimum adjustment has to be 41 minutes,

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-58957843668727128832007-08-14T02:10:00.000-05:002007-08-14T02:39:30.585-05:00

The almost killed thing happened when I was nearly run over crossing New South Head Road by Rose Bay about an hour after Sunday's race. I started walking just as the little red man stopped flashing and misjudged the time it'd take to reach the other side of the street. Suddenly I was in the middle of a busy four lane road. A moving car actually touched my leg. Do you have any idea how horrifying

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-76479817534308994672007-08-12T03:15:00.000-05:002007-08-12T03:58:02.338-05:00

Plus I was stuck in the fourth group (alongside pregnant women and men dressed as Borat) which was annoying. We couldn't even begin jogging until a few kilometers in and even then had to weave in and around thousands of fat ladies in skimpy bike shorts just to make ground. I've never seen so many people all in one place. The winner was past the finish line before my pack even started. Regardless

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-27082387873374718872007-08-09T01:18:00.000-05:002007-08-09T00:19:10.493-05:00

On Sunday I'll be running the City2Surf - a 14km (8.7 mile) mini-marathon/fun run starting at the Sydney Central Business District (Park/William St) and finishing at Bondi Beach. I'm super excited. I've been inadvertently training pretty hard for the past few months and I'm probably fitter right now than I've ever been in my life. Barring some horrible knee-related incident on race day (my knees

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-56523405970521147752007-08-06T23:07:00.000-05:002007-08-09T00:20:35.745-05:00

Shouting at infuriating old women. Shouting on the inside. Practising self-restraint when confronted with infuriating old women. Surprising myself. Surprising others. Wondering when I might explode. No, the cleaning lady is not stealing the bread. Yes, the front door is locked. I don't know when the stock market will crash. The windows are not rotting. The postman is just doing his job. I can't

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-85868935894730724662007-08-01T19:16:00.001-05:002007-08-01T19:26:50.712-05:00

Being the good son I am I dropped my sister off at school this morning. Pulling up to the curb I had one of those oh.my.God.I.really.am.an.adult moments, the kind that catch me by cruel surprise, muddy my day and fill me with equal parts pride and terror. Like when a parent says to their child "stop annoying the nice man" and I realize that I'm the nice man.First, my sister attends the same

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-13255594762481041542007-07-30T14:14:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:24.055-05:00

Below is a photo I took recently in downtown Sydney. Right afterwards two guys in suits rode by on matching kangaroos and parked illegally next to an old Coolabah tree. Hectic.Meanwhile, today is roughly six-and-a-half months since I stopped smoking. Six months = 2,000 cigarettes = US$750. Not bad. I still miss it but my mother's happy.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-59298086526634463082007-07-27T18:16:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:24.301-05:00

Bon bon rocher, two scoops, waffle cone - and one cherry. No, two separate cones. Two scoops of cherry. Oh gosh, no, cherry in the first, bon bon rocher in the other. I'm so sorry. That's it. Perfect. You what? Yes it has been a while. Yes I am enjoying myself here. Yes of course I've missed you both! Huh? Sure I think your wife is pretty. Um, I don't believe she said that. Sir, she's standing

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-16730450459131976812007-07-26T10:04:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:24.311-05:00

Why the jokes there old man, in the plasticine skin,With the Santa Claus cheeks and the festival grin?Sixty-seven's a charm, maybe this year you'll fly,Far too young, I do think, to start mouthing good-bye.Does it scare you the stories of men put away?Left to rot in white prisons, lazy cashmere, long days?It scares me to think I might end up like you,The man at the table with nothing to do,But

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-10790763288036880972007-07-22T07:16:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:24.483-05:00

...are incredibly annoying. I just returned from an impromptu two day ski trip with my father and half-brother. Signs such as these, I learned, do not only refer to the slopes. Enough said. I also learned that (1) rented clothing suits nobody; (2) snowboarders are waaayy cooler than skiers; (3) I want to learn snowboarding; (4) snow instructors are universally hott. That's right - double 't' hott

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-2913249541889954422007-07-19T10:11:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:25.464-05:00

Just back from a six day Melbourne excursion. Mum signed the permission slip Saturday morning after a night of no sleep and lots of caraway-infused rye toast. Is there anything better than quality rye at 3 in the morning? Organic oatmeal with honey and soy milk, you say? Possibly.Boom-Schnapple X: Come to Trough tonight.But I'm not in Melbourne.So?And it's already 6 a.m. and I haven't slept. I've

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-70598898869021761222007-07-13T05:11:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:25.657-05:00

Regina Spektor was a total trip. She gave one of those rare, intense performances that completely exceeds expectations and turns anyone within a ten block radius into a bona fide fan. She busted her hip or something and so she hobbled onto stage Thursday night (as in, eighty-seven year old lady hobbled) with the aid of a thick black cane. The look was surprisingly fitting, the cane like a

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-58807243578189443042007-07-11T14:11:00.000-05:002007-07-11T14:17:39.466-05:00

Insomnia's a dirty slut. A whorish wraith stuck against my bedroom wall. Stockings down. Killer legs. Bereft of virtue and very loud. Quiet the noise!

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-32323478268037643302007-07-10T14:03:00.000-05:002007-07-10T15:38:01.168-05:00

(A) swim with the current or (B) paddle against it. Seems simple, right? Not always.I mean, all that paddling makes for a sound upper-body workout and so you convince yourself that yeah, sure, you could afford to exercise your pectoral region - hell, why not swim upstream for a bit? And so you do. You swim and you splash. It's even fun for the first three minutes. You love a challenge after all (

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-39992995712218373482007-07-07T12:20:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:25.997-05:00

In 1988 the front roof/wall section of Aloha Airlines Flight 243 broke away mid flight. Amazingly, the airplane was able to land safely and only one person died - a long serving crew member named CB who was (horror!) sucked through the gaping hole. Absent such a large chunk of fuselage the aircraft was literally held together by its floorboards. Passengers in the back could see the cockpit

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-70113047284739763872007-07-04T12:35:00.000-05:002007-07-07T12:19:43.409-05:00

Sitting alone amidst hundreds of elderly men and women watching the Sydney Symphony this evening at the Opera House I realized that I really do cherish the company of funny/strange/mildly senile old people, especially the ones who use lots of hair spray and look a bit like putty. Like the spunky purple-haired fireball who elbowed me in the ribs on the way out. If Mahler's 6th doesn't get the

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-83621578586313414602007-07-03T06:03:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:26.235-05:00

Pretty much everything I'm thinking right now has been said better elsewhere. In particular, refer to 'Black and Blue' by Chris Garneau. He wishes he was a little creepy crawler. I hear that.I spent almost my entire birthday watching Prison Break. I don't like tv (apart from brilliant things like Weeds and Project Runway) but my whole family (and basically everyone I know or meet) is obsessed

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-65959531689861320192007-07-02T05:32:00.001-05:002008-12-11T07:53:26.421-05:00

You saw me first. You walked up to the seat behind me and caused my friend to say: don't look now, D, he's here. Can you imagine? He's here.'He' meant you straight away. My head and its thoughts are never far from things of you, even now. Your face is in my eyes and whenever I hear your name or see someone with your nose I waste an hour. And so when he said 'he' I knew 'he' was you and that you

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-28976853870303966992007-06-28T01:32:00.000-05:002007-06-28T01:45:23.867-05:00

I'm writing this as a means of distracting myself from the thought. And just for the record, it's not nicotine withdrawal that causes cravings. I haven't smoked in six months for fuck's sake. It's that they make the bad people go away. I hate the bad people. My flu is almost better but I think my brain preferred it sick.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-73644776560259315712007-06-23T21:16:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:27.236-05:00

I am currently sicker than I have ever been in my entire life. No joke. Last night I went to bed at 7:30 p.m., slept for 16 hours and woke up exhausted. I feel like I might pass out at any moment. It hurts when I look at things. It hurts when I move and it hurts when I don't. This is very unusual and very Sydney. Manhattan sick only ever lasted three hours and seemed far more glamorous. Of course

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-50071719207549656262007-06-19T09:15:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:27.575-05:00

I love when this happens. Start with a perfectly innocent, rather concise and racially-neutral article about Julia Roberts' new baby boy. Folks are doing great, JR loves her kids, something about thermometers, etc. Then scroll down to the reader comments section.Comment 62 - 9:25 AM Anonymous Says: For 5:13 PM Enough...... Just to note a lot of black people have nice hair and a not

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-54355722640676687452007-06-16T10:16:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:27.818-05:00

Fucking brilliant. That's pretty much my highest accolade and I don't bestow it lightly. According to IMDB this super bit of work was made in 2004 and came to Australia last November so maybe I've just totally missed the boat here (it was also nominated for best foreign language film in 2005). Nevermind. If you haven't seen it (and don't now) I'll be sad. It's still showing at the Orpheum in

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-63451022345670742992007-06-13T09:27:00.001-05:002008-12-11T07:53:28.048-05:00

Sometimes I feel annoyed and angry at the frustrations and inequities of my existence. And then I come across something like this and (especially as a Jew) feel compelled to slap myself across the face and shut the fuck up."I saw how a soldier tore a baby, who was only a few months old, out of mother’s hands and bashed his head against an electric pylon. The baby’s brain splashed on the wood. The

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-74994288069590135992007-06-12T10:18:00.000-05:002007-06-12T10:50:48.048-05:00

"The Ohio Air Force lab proposed that a bomb be developed that contained a chemical that would cause enemy soliders to become gay, and to have their units break down because all their soldiers became irresistably attractive to one another," Hammond said after reviwing the documents. [CBS]Hot. But it can't be healthy.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-26752597556025065232007-06-09T12:04:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:28.284-05:00

This is super cool. So super cool I want to cover myself in honey and jump up and down naked while a group of home-schooled Aborigines throw pebbles at ladies in big purple hats. No joke. It's called Google Street View and it's from the same painfully innovative people who invented my (up until two minutes ago) favorite time-wasting device, Google Earth. As it is I'm obsessed with Manhattan

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-51081886957008852782007-06-05T09:53:00.000-05:002007-06-05T10:37:12.223-05:00

Is so scary I made Film Friend L walk me to my car afterwards and waited till I got home to pee even though I was busting. Nothing is more terrifying to me than films about real killers. Especially the kind that never got caught. And I don't give a fuck that he'd be ninety-something by now. Nor that he lived in Caifornia and my car was parked in Bondi Junction. Did anyone here ever used to watch

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-78922304629101224252007-06-04T11:29:00.000-05:002007-06-04T10:53:06.704-05:00

Sitting in the foyer outside the Concert Hall at the Sydney Opera House on Wednesday I discovered a new food item called a frisson (my spelling is probably incorrect but I couldn't find it on Google). It looks and tastes basically like a cupcake but it sounds fancy.What's inside that? I asked the lady behind the glass counter.It's a frisson.No, what's inside it?It's a frisson.IN--SIDE...FRI--SSON

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-61530829117331373602007-06-02T10:50:00.000-05:002007-06-02T11:02:35.162-05:00

...with the skeleton tatts down his spine laying in the sun by the flags on Bondi Beach this morning - thank you.Also - how on earth is it already June? Is this year nearly half over? Something is seriously messed up. I ask again, who's in charge here?!

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-62012557958579083662007-05-27T08:03:00.000-05:002007-05-27T09:59:13.307-05:00

In a few short weeks I will be twenty-five. One box over. This was never supposed to happen. Who's in charge here? The last thing I remember is having a serious whinge to someone who cared about the frustrations of not yet being eighteen. I couldn't drive. I couldn't drink. I couldn't buy cigarettes. I couldn't gamble. I couldn't leave home. Now I'm twenty-four and in the past month I haven't

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-62211175892367404262007-05-22T06:57:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:28.544-05:00

Holding the Man, by Timothy Conigrave, is an extraordinary book. I read it a couple years ago in one sitting and cried horribly for most of the final third. It's the magnificent and tragic true story of two Melbourne men who fell in love as adolescents during high school in the 1970s. The work has been adapted for theater and is currently being performed at the Playhouse (Sydney Opera House)

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-7075934738951544182007-05-20T05:52:00.000-05:002007-05-20T06:52:40.890-05:00

Tuesday will be four months. That's a record for me and I'm...ambivalent. I love cigarettes. Beer/coffee/snow/sex just isn't the same without 'em. I love the process, the taste, the break, the image. The mornings spent half-conscious on my living room floor reeking of tobacco, wine and dog spit. I'm tempted, sometimes, to snog random pedestrians just to suck the gray air from their disintegrating

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-46542562840239752292007-05-17T01:30:00.000-05:002007-05-17T00:32:08.254-05:00

From a Fortune article published Tuesday on Generation Y and the typical twentysomething adult: "Despite a consensus that they're not slackers, there is a suspicion that they've avoided that moniker only by creating enough commotion to distract from the fact that they're really not that into 'work.'" Ouch. And, um...shhh.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-10725862079802378042007-05-15T00:48:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:29.302-05:00

Lex is definitely starting to resemble those fierce velociraptors from Jurassic Park (think terrifying kitchen scene). Sydney's great but I miss him (and his friend under the cap) so much. I'd be lost without the constant stream of random dog photos that arrive at my inbox each morning, three of which I share with you below (as well as a couple older shots at the end because they're just too cute

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-73504061387405839432007-05-13T07:07:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:29.519-05:00

Last night my brother and I caught the AIH show at the Metro Theater in Sydney. I'm a huge fan but the night was somehow less than excellent. The crowd was relatively subdued (despite a decent showing), the new album stuff wasn't immediately happiness-inducing (apart from a couple standout tracks like Heart it Races) and even old fun like Do the Whirlwind and Wishbone (from 2005's In Case We Die)

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-9899346090234781982007-05-12T00:21:00.000-05:002007-05-11T23:01:04.925-05:00

That's my porn star name. My porn star price, apparently, is $1,500 and a round-trip airfare to California. I feel kinda cheap. And oddly intrigued. Ugh. Blah. Buck Northcote just officially became my much cooler alter ego. He's a porn king who drinks his vodka straight and doesn't look when he crosses the street. Say hello, Buck.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-64513760952925527802007-05-09T12:25:00.000-05:002007-05-09T13:47:16.883-05:00

It's tacky but oh so entertaining - the unbelievable details of life as the 25 year-old male plaything of 59 year-old BP superboss Lord John Browne. The story broke a while back [click here if you missed it]. It's a delicious mix of everything yummy. Plus it involves lots of pompous corporate types and the Prime Minister of Britain so you can write it off as official business reading. I feel

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-26921173785230366362007-05-07T01:03:00.000-05:002007-05-08T10:41:52.971-05:00

The sound of her voice, the softness of it, and the way the creased skin behind her chin moved as she spoke - those are the things I remember. The rest is all up in the air with the smell of cinnamon and Chanel No. 5. She's having an affair, she told me in a whisper. And not with my husband (her emphasis). Not my husband.Eggs, please.I fear I might be evil, she said quickly. I do. Here, feel the

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-45997207056459063052007-05-02T23:02:00.000-05:002007-05-02T23:11:03.451-05:00

This is just too much fun. Essential entertainment for anyone working in an office. Brings back memories of my old (and thankfully short-lived) investment banking days. My advice: watch out for the bible preachin' lady. Lethal!

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-24674673328503757172007-04-30T05:37:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:29.813-05:00

Coachella was broadcast live this year over the magical world wide web. This is a fantastic technological development. Fantastic. (Not sure if they did it previously but I sure as hell didn't know about it.) It's kinda like being there only there's no festival atmosphere and the sound/picture quality sucks. I still enjoyed it all immensely from the comfort of my brother's bed (absent the brother)

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-67878236539050820322007-04-27T23:09:00.000-05:002007-04-30T10:56:48.152-05:00

One of the greatest ever. So sad. [NYT]UPDATE: Dear Virtuoso, I Wrote This One Just for You [NYT 4/29]

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-83351799677130032202007-04-25T11:12:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:29.971-05:00

This is what a wise friend said when I told him of my dilemma: fuck him.And so I did.That's not what I meant, he said later.Oh.Did it help?Yes.The street was somewhere around Bedford, I think. That house with the oversized pipe thing down the side - which one's that? Well right by there.The sky is beautiful tonight, he said softly.I was silent. Stupid comment but pretty face. And he was nervous

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-72308340131638020692007-04-24T05:51:00.000-05:002007-04-24T20:10:26.394-05:00

Avril Lavigne peed in my bathroom last night while Deryck Whibley petted Lex. My New York life is apparently more exciting when I'm not in town. I'm no fan of either singer but Lex LOVES Sum 41 so he was thrilled. Meanwhile my Britney doll is mysteriously missing and my sofa smells funny.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-8278185229712844512007-04-23T11:53:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:30.141-05:00

Today I was ordered to remove myself from naval waters by the Royal Australian Navy. Crewmen aboard the HMAS Newcastle (pictured), to be exact. Oddly erotic. And definitely a first.My craft, a small two-person kayak with a middle-aged man and an eight-year-old child in the back seat (threatening!) was the subject of a coordinated surveillance/security operation between at least four of the

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-63200705066033734442007-04-22T04:38:00.000-05:002007-04-22T10:06:47.815-05:00

A 'dancer' friend who works the gay club circuit in Manhattan told me today that he earned over $3,000 on Saturday night. Can this be correct? And am I in the wrong industry? His cat is sick (infectious rash) and he bought my dog, who turned one this week, a new chew toy shaped like Bill O'Reilly's head. Lex hates that guy's show.

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17702076.post-26487978399329955822007-04-19T03:03:00.000-05:002008-12-11T07:53:30.400-05:00

Twenty-four looked so much older from afar. I love being home.David, you're coming with.Do I have to? I really don't want to.Yes. You should. You do.But I have nothing in common with these people. Nothing to say. And I woke up six minutes ago. I haven't even brushed my teeth.It's nice if you come. It's not right if you don't. You'll have fun. I'm leaving in five minutes.But mum...Five minutes.Ugh

WestVillageKidhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05782696605664312795noreply@blogger.com1