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Old Timeys Get Your Own Jam
Mar. 7th, 2004 11:04 pmNow that's more like it. L&I just returned from a great, great weekend in New York. A very generous friend of mine lent us his apartment, which is in Greenwich Village a block from NYU, at the following highly auspicious address:
Highlights of our weekend included: killer deli, killer sushi, the brilliant Lower East Side Tenement Museum (what can I say, we're history geeks), a hugely enjoyable if not always entirely in tune set by a girlrock trio at Meow Mix (which is the lesbian bar featured in Chasing Amy) (and we were friends of friends of the drummer, so la-di-da for us), hanging with L's college buddy Toby, which I always love (all of the friends we saw in NYC are great, of course, but I particularly like seeing Toby—my Toronto posse will have a pretty good sense of what he's like if they picture an alternate-history Derek largely unreformed by Whitney), the front lines of the bitter feud between New York's bluegrass and old timey music scenes (from whence comes the subject line of this post—you probably had to be there), a Greek dinner in Astoria with L's gourmet-savvy friend Drew and a bunch of his friends that turned into a five-hour multi-restaurant Olympiad of fish and flesh and wine and garlic and endless Greek desserts. All this plus tons of quality L&R time, and the Village and Soho just exploding with energy and hormones from the first honest-to-God, warm-breeze, short-sleeve weekend of 2004.
Travel—vacation travel, I mean—is rejuvenating, regardless of where you go and what you do. It shakes up your patterns and frees your head. Even my daydreaming this weekend was more optimistic than it's been in a while—more creative, more fun. You know: all the books I'm going to write, the cancer cures, the sitcom about the sassy robot, that kind of stuff. None of the problems making me miserable this winter have been solved or abated or really gone anywhere, but you can only stay hunched over for so long.
Highlights of our weekend included: killer deli, killer sushi, the brilliant Lower East Side Tenement Museum (what can I say, we're history geeks), a hugely enjoyable if not always entirely in tune set by a girlrock trio at Meow Mix (which is the lesbian bar featured in Chasing Amy) (and we were friends of friends of the drummer, so la-di-da for us), hanging with L's college buddy Toby, which I always love (all of the friends we saw in NYC are great, of course, but I particularly like seeing Toby—my Toronto posse will have a pretty good sense of what he's like if they picture an alternate-history Derek largely unreformed by Whitney), the front lines of the bitter feud between New York's bluegrass and old timey music scenes (from whence comes the subject line of this post—you probably had to be there), a Greek dinner in Astoria with L's gourmet-savvy friend Drew and a bunch of his friends that turned into a five-hour multi-restaurant Olympiad of fish and flesh and wine and garlic and endless Greek desserts. All this plus tons of quality L&R time, and the Village and Soho just exploding with energy and hormones from the first honest-to-God, warm-breeze, short-sleeve weekend of 2004.
Travel—vacation travel, I mean—is rejuvenating, regardless of where you go and what you do. It shakes up your patterns and frees your head. Even my daydreaming this weekend was more optimistic than it's been in a while—more creative, more fun. You know: all the books I'm going to write, the cancer cures, the sitcom about the sassy robot, that kind of stuff. None of the problems making me miserable this winter have been solved or abated or really gone anywhere, but you can only stay hunched over for so long.
