Evan Kessler’s Eurodream Vacation

Man, was I disappointed to wake up today.  I was having one of those awesome “this can’t be real” dreams before I was so unfortunately shaken from my slumber by a brief impulse to blink into reality. When my eyes opened to the real world, the clock read 8:30am and I was in my apartment and not at a European train station deciding that I could probably stand to go to Madrid for a few days and then maybe head over to Barcelona, before making my way to Prague for a brief spell; all of this after spending a week or so in London on the heels of a wedding I had to attend. I don’t know who got married, but I’m sure it was lovely.

The Magical Eurail Map Rife With Possibility

Instead I’m stuck in an alternately lovely yet frigid Brooklyn, looking for some steady employment and daydreaming of the day I can afford to make such exotic travel decisions.  Quite the depressing predicament if you ask me, especially considering I was at the point in the dream when all of my plans were falling into place.

First, I would surprise my friend Victor at his bar, El Hombre Moderno in Madrid.  After a few days of enjoying the cosmopolitan nightlife en Madrid con Victor y mis amigos nuevos Irene y Elena , I’d take the train to Barcelona where my comrades Dmitry and Nina would welcome me with open arms and an open apartment.  We’d go to the beach and gorge ourselves on Serrano Ham and Manchego while drinking wine for a few days and that would be that.

The entire idea of a trip to Prague just seemed like something I casually tossed up in the air mid-dream, like it could be easily accomplished.  Unless, I was traveling by plane it would take more than one day of trekking from Western to Eastern Europe and most likely run me a pretty penny, but I’d stop in Switzerland and Austria, Monaco, Slovenia, and Croatia along the way.  Maybe this wasn’t the most effective plan, but anything is possible in my EuroDreamTopia. Unfortunately, it remains just that, my EuroDreamTopia. And so I look forward to another enchanted evening under the covers with eyes closed and foreign tongues wagging strange words that I rifle through my guide book searching for the meaning of.

Who am I kidding, it probably won’t come up again.  Tonight I’ll probably dream of Lions roaming the streets during this coming Snowpocalypse or being forced into military service after the Canadian invasion.  The mind goes where it wants to.

The Road to 2010 and Beyond

It’s been over a month since my words were last encoded on this here site and while I’d love to lavish some sort of exciting tale as to where I’ve been all this time,  I’m afraid  my only reasonable explanation is, “sometimes a man just needs a breather.”  After all, I’ve been writing almost every day on OneRiot and honestly don’t think my everyday existence in the month of December was worth writing home or the far corners of the world blessed with Internet access about.

To sum it up it’s been a mixture of horrible occurrences and enjoyable holiday-themed parties which thankfully drew to a close when the clock struck midnight on December 31st, 2009.  Rather than close the loop right there I’ll spare you the lowlights that closed out 2009 and keep you abreast of the positive.

December 4th- My good friends Matt and Jenny threw a wonderfully classy gala to kick off the Holiday season.  I wore a tuxedo. There were delicious little ham and cheese sandwiches and pumpkin dip.  Matt got on the floor and danced to David Bowie.  I have video. I spent a lot of time talking with Stephanie K and her boyfriend Andrew of Mahogany.  Tricia (pronounced Tree-See-Ya) from Brazil put a Pillbox hat on my head. Pictures were posed for.

Not A Brand New Leopard Skin Pillbox Hat

December 11th-Andrew M had a pretty sweet party to not only celebrate the first evening of the Choliday known as Chanukah (which I really prefer to spell Hannukah, but that was my attempt at a horribly lame Hebrew language joke) but also his preferred holiday known as Christmas.  Even though it was 14 days away we got into the Christmas spirit by drinking wine and bourbon and rockin’ around the Christmas tree with Bill M, Gigi, Laura B, Laura R, Dan F, Krissy S, and a few others. Later in the evening Dan F took his shirt off, though he lacked a proper change of costume in the form of a gorilla suit or banana suit, so he settled for some of Andrew’s clothes. Krissy also made me sing the Hannukah prayer a 2nd time.  A fun time was had buy all…photos were taken.

"On The First Night of Hannukah My True Love Gave To Me..."

Andrew Next To Dan Aykroyd In Spies Like Us

December 12th- Zak and Emma added to the total of sweet holiday bashes.  This one may have been the tops thanks to the hot toddies, backyard fire pit, and above all the yankee gift swap.  Being by the fire with a hot refreshing drink  and meeting a wonderful group of people aside…the Yankee gift swap was the star of the evening.  I ended up having the 3rd to last pick of the gift litter. Plenty of desirable gifts were traded prior to my pick including  a set of glasses from Crate & Barrell, a set of nunchucks along with some other weaponry, and a duck alarm clock.  I figured I might be trading up with someone who went before me.  There were but a few gifts left under the tree, none of which had packages that caught my eye in the early going.  So to decide I engaged in a round of eeny-meeny-miny-moe, which left me pointing to a bag.  I had previously surmised that nothing good could come in a bag, but how wrong I was as I unwrapped the gift paper surrounding my prize I was met by the fearsome brass-like head of what appeared to a cougar.  As I examined it further I came to realize that not only was I the could-be owner of a brass cougar head, but I was the could-be proud owner of a brass cougar head stapler!  Game. Set. Match.

I quietly prayed over the next 2 gifts that no one would see fit to rob me of my coveted present.  The person that followed me netted bacon jam, so I was safe…and the final gift belonged to someone who was not there…I believe.  I was in the clear.  I spent the rest of my evening carefully caressing cougarhead stapler.  The best gift of all-time.

This Coming Chinese New Year is The Year Of The Cougarhead Stapler

December 13th- On a day I hadn’t planned anything I was invited to attend the birthday Bill M, proprietor of Wasabassco Burlesque and brother of Andrew M,  at Union Hall.  I had only planned to go for one drink but was having entirely too much fun as our small crowd of friendly revelers made snide comments at the overly enthusiastic bocce players before that gave way to our play-by-play critique of a first date in-progress.  Let’s just say the girl was exhibiting very friendly body language while the guy was increasingly awkward and did not mirror said language at all.  None of us thought he would score, but Andrew was increasingly optimistic.  Unfortunately, I left before seeing anything come to fruition.

December 16th- House Hannukah Dinner- Departing roommate Sara B made latkes and applesauce which were delicious.  All 5 roommates ate dinner together and played a lengthy game of dreidel.  Matt G stubbornly refused to use any Hebrew terms throughout, instead preferring to use the english word printed on each side, which oddly didn’t correspond to the outcome of each spin.

December 17th:Home for the Holiday- Went home to Rockland with my brother and his girlfriend to exchange gifts and celebrate Mom’s birthday.  I got a shirt and some loot, not to mention heaps of delicious leftovers that I promptly polished off in the next day or so.  Mmmm…Latkes.

December 19th: Snowpocalypse 2009- The lord unleashed fury in the form of snow on the Eastern Seaboard.  We probably got between 6 and 9 inches of snow.  Rather than just sit in and watch the snow outside, I trekked through gusty winds and piles of white powder all the way to Fort Greene to celebrate Ajay’s birthday at Der Shwarze Kolner.

Surviving Snowpocalypse '09

Early on in the night I ran into my old college friend Craig D.  We caught up for a bit. Jason, Kayvalyn, Kishore and Morwin were also showed up eventually.  Later on in the evening, Kishore, Kayvalyn, Jason and I  trekked further into Fort Greene despite the threat of Tauntaun snow beasts and an ever-increasing,  treacherous amount of snow.  We went to Jason’s co-worker’s party that happened to be in some weird frat house.  It was one of the more bizarre party’s I’d been to…but that’s what happens when you’re in the midst of a snowpocalypse.

December 23rd- Trivia night at Pete’s Candy Store.  Our team “Avatarded” consisting of Myself, Suli, and Morwin nets 2nd place.  We get a free round.

December 24th- Suli and I see Avatar.  The visuals are great, the story is lame.  It’s in 3D.

Still December 24th- I got with my friend CS to a Jewish Christmas thing at a bar called Destination in the East Village.  They have a piñata that is shaped like a hundred-dollar bill.  I’m still trying to decide if this was Anti-Semitic.  On the plus side, they did offer free Chinese food.

Happy Jewish Christmas?

December 25th: Christmas Day- Watched Food Inc. and decided that Monsanto was the most evil corporation in the world.  Had Christmas dinner at Katz’s delicatessen with my brother.  A Japanese tourist came up to me because my Matzo Ball soup had piqued her curiosity.  Got home relatively early and watched The Deer Hunter for the first time ever.  Wow. That’s a powerful movie.  Avatar can suck it.

December 26th- Watched Food Inc. and decided that Monsanto was the most evil corporation in the world.
Watched Cool Hand Luke for the first time ever.  Another powerful movie.  Avatar can still suck it.

December 29th- My friend Joe bought a house in Pearl River.  Suli, Rich, Lina, and I went to Pearl River to see his new house. In other news, my friend is grown up enough to have his own house with a wife, a front yard and fridge full of Hot Pockets.  You know, the works.

December 30th- Hung out with my friend Victor’s friends who were visiting from Spain in Williamsburg.  Good times and a good opportunity to practice mi espanol.  Unfortunately, I have no photos.

New Year’s Eve- The day started early as Eric, Laura B, and I got the house ready for the party.  Actually, it was mostly Eric and Laura B.  I had the difficult task of making a musical mix for the evening in addition to the brownies I baked. Laura did a fantastic job of decorating the kitchen with ornaments and making some sort of weird apple rum punch.  Eric made a 22 lb turkey with stuffing and gravy amongst other things.  He also made pizza rolls.  Maureen, in from LA, came over early and helped out with said pizza rolls.

The crowd started rolling in some time after 9 to ring in the new year.  We tried to make a fire pit on the deck but the rain quashed that dream.  The party however was a rousing success.  Dick Clark was back on the air, Katie H announced her pregnancy, Maureen made up a list of everyone who was going to appear on Dick Clark’s Rockin’ eve including Fyodor Dostoyevsky.  Champagne was spilled all over Laura B’s room.  The Black Eyed Peas performed too many times from Vegas.  Jason, Kayvalyn, Suli and Andy showed up after midnight.  My good friend Brian who lives in Idaho showed up around 3am with his girlfriend Jess.  We met up with friends at Union Hall and closed down the bar.  Before it was all over I determined that 2010 would be the year I do it for the ladies, which led to this enduring image.

2010! The Year I Do It For The Ladies

January 1st- New Year’s Day Hangover.  Brunch at Stone Park for 14.  Mmm… Pork Belly B-L-T.   Later that evening…My first time at Bull McCabe’s in probably 8 years to hang out with Jess I and Mike G, who had just been married the week before but would be celebrating their wedding the next day in Ft. Greene.

January 2nd- Housewarming Brunch at Lauren and Rosario’s in Ft. Greene although Ajay and I had already warmed said apartment 5 or 6 month’s earlier.  A small crowd was on hand to drink mimosas and compliment Lauren on her flavorful salsa.

In the evening it was back to Ft. Greene this time dressed to the 9’s, but not in a tuxedo (I consider that 10’s) for Jess and Mike’s wedding dinner.  I spent a lot of time talking  to Brian,Jess, and Marika as well as Jess’s friend Frances, who I hadn’t seen in many years.  I spent a good portion of the latter part of the party convincing Jaime W-G to give her maid of honor speech she had prepared.  She kept hoping it would go away, but I kept bringing up to everyone she was talking to so she wouldn’t get off the hook.  She wrote a wonderful speech, it would be a shame if it had gone to waste.

Jaime W Speechifies The Room

I Call This One Married Couple in Black and White

Frances drove me to the bar after in her car, but as we walked to her car to make the drive I noticed lights on a car in front of us turn on.  I thought this was Frances’s car that she had just unlocked… it wasn’t.  I opened the passenger side door to see an African-American woman with a look of confusion painted on  her face as she talked on her phone.  I quickly shut the door, realizing I wasn’t getting in that automobile.  Frances had a honda.  She drove us safely to High Dive for some drinks after the party. A few drinks were had and then we all went our separate ways.

January 5th- Brian and his girlfriend Jess came in and we went to Dinosaur BBQ for dinner.  Sweet…sweet Dinosaur BBQ.

Alright, that about catches me up to present day. Onward and upward.  2010! Let’s go hang out in the den.

Happy Meals

It’s been a week since the Thanksgiving holiday.  Perhaps I’ve waited a week to recap the matter so that I’d have the proper perspective, or maybe the fact that the Time Warner cable and Internet service in my neck of the woods had something to do with the delay.  All I know is that this morning my cable box appeared as if it was counting down to detonation.  I cowered in my bed hoping it wasn’t synchronized with some sort of device at the Indian Point nuclear facility a bit north from here.  Luckily, it wasn’t and I’m still in one piece.

So where was I, ah yes, that holiday we celebrate in the final week of November to commemorate the Euro settlers decision to hold off a few weeks to start slaughtering the Native Americans they hadn’t killed with the mere act of upsetting their ecosystem.  Mmm, turkey.

I wasn’t really looking forward to Thanksgiving this year.  I have my reasons other than my general dislike for holidays that seem to upset the silky smooth flow of my month.  For some reason I had prepared myself for hostile interrogations and general tension.  The days leading up to the stuffing of stomachs I had been mentally preparing myself for arguments and tension…though not necessarily with relatives.

Upon my arrival in Rockland county on Thursday early afternoon, which was engineered by the steady driving capabilities of Suli, I arrived at my childhood home pretty much easing into port through an already open garage.  I strolled through the door and was met with open arms which gave way to an open couch for watching the Packers annihilate the Lions.

My mom was preparing some new specialties for our dinner down the street at our family friends who seem to host every holiday occurrence save for the occasional break fast for Yom Kippur and Passover Seder. She was making some sort of non-pizza pizza thing.  It had puff pastry dough covered in caramelized onions, slices of cherry tomato and goat cheese.  It looked delicious and while she and my step dad bickered over how to cut it into pieces, I dreamed of the array of food options that would satisfy my gastrointestinal yearnings in but a few minutes.

A short drive down the block found us at our destination.  I narrowly averted disaster as one of the pizza creations nearly slid onto the car seat.  My mother, stepdad, and myself grabbed hold of several dishes containing Thanksgiving specialties and ferried them inside before we lost our grip.

Inside we were met by a smaller party than usual.  Our group of three brought the count to a total of 14 thanks-givers. Rhona and Stuart once again hosted.  Their eldest son Jon was present with his wife Michelle, her parents, and Rhona’s brother had his family present as usual  minus one son.  It was a generally pleasant gathering.

We gathered in what I guess is the living room where Stuart had a roaring fire on despite the relatively mild temperature outside.  It was a tad bit sweaty in there.  I normally prefer sitting next to the fire but not on this day.  Instead I settled on the couch with a cup of wine, clearly missing out on the option of using a glass, and enjoyed some pleasant conversation and delicious caramelized onion pizza food.

After the glass of wine I slipped into maximum relaxation mode choosing to pour myself a nice glass of Macallan 12 thereby engulfing me in single malt bliss. So warm, so fuzzy.  Not much can put you in a bad mood when you’ve been embraced by a nice taste of Scotch.  I’m not a Scotch-hound by any means, but I can’t deny it’s pleasant effect.

With glass in hand I switched to the den and took in some thanksgiving athletic ineptitude courtesy of the Oakland Raiders who were struggling mightily versus the Dallas Cowboys, clearly the better team. While I kept an eye peeled on the game, I can’t say I was interested in it.  When the competition is that poor, there’s really no point.  The games only magnetizing factor was the play of Miles Austin who would be playing a crucial role for my fantasy team that week, but even that couldn’t hold my interest.

Jon May Talk Turkey But He Can Back It Up

The smell of that great Thanksgiving dinner seeped into the den and living room and the womenfolk and Jon W beckoned us all to enjoy their culinary creations.  Actually, Jon did an excellent job with his kitchen creations from his presentation of the turkey to his Potatoes au Gratin, we were all very impressed.  The meal started off though as usual, with Camille’s huge tray of ziti incorporating 5 lbs of pasta and god knows how much cheese.

Thatsa Lotta Ziti-a

In the midst of all of that eating the conversation was extremely lively and probably not very conducive to digestion.  There was a lengthy decision about circumcisions and I’m not exactly where it came from.  Well, I have some idea, but we never really established whether we were thankful for them or not.  We just knew they had to be done right and at no point should the moyle employ the use of their mouth.  Don’t ask.

Once the hilarity  took a hiatus and our pants felt ready to burst from Brisket, Turkey, Sweet Potato Pie, and a variety of delicious sides  it was time to retire to both the living room and den where we tried to stay awake while catching the tail end of the Cowboys-Raiders debacle.

We fought off the Z’s long enough to make it to dessert.  While I can’t say I was hungry, I didn’t shy away from the sweetest portion of the evening.  A couple of slices of Banana chocolate chip cake, some apple pie, and some ice cream found it’s way into my belly and threatened to turn me into a colossal blob all before the clock struck December.  There’d be plenty more holiday eating where that came from.  I’d have to pace myself.

Once the feast came to an end we sat around for a bit more before heading home, watching the absolute embarrassment that was the first quarter of the Giants-Broncos matchup. From there it was down the street and back home to watch the rest of the Giants emphatic statement game in which they stated they’d be avoiding the playoffs this season.  In addition to signaling the end of the Giants season, the game clock striking zero made clear that it was just about time to doze off.

The next morning I awoke in Rockland well aware that soon enough I’d be back in Brooklyn.  I had forgotten to take care of a few vital pieces of laundry and rushed to it.  Eventually, I hit the road with my mother and Irwin.  Irwin stopped by the courthouse in Downtown Manhattan to take some photos for a speech he is giving or a class he is teaching or something.  We made it back to Brooklyn a little after 2 and then got some food at Press 195 before I saw them off and relaxed for rather quiet Friday evening of watching Netflix.  I watched Autofocus that evening…which I expected to be better.  It was decent though.

Saturday was none too exciting.  I tried to go for a run to work off some of the calories I’d amassed on Thursday and from Friday’s leftovers…but was met with little success as I felt weighed down and had to bail early about 3/4 of a mile into my run.  The rest of the day was of medium excitement.  I was hoping to get to see Maureen while she was in town and thought I would up until the later portion of the evening when Basset notified me they’d remain in Long Island.  I ended up making a last minute change of plans and meeting up with Reva and Marisa and Union Hall for an effortless evening of enjoyable chatter.

Sunday brought about more caloric intake.  The occasion of which was a post-thanksgiving leftover bonanza and Jayvalyn’s apartment.  I mustered the effort to make some cornbread and headed over at around 2:30pm.  Kishore, Morwin, Suli, Lauren, Rich, Lina, and Andy were also on hand for the good time gorge-athon.

Morwin Prepping For Some Old-Fashioned Beverages

Morwin served as mixologist and rustled up some Old Fashions for the crowd, while Jason made some Turkey sliders with Cranberry BBQ sauce and some Cranberry Jello-y things.  Kishore brought Indian food.  I don’t remember who else brought what…but the mission to stuff our stomachs was accomplished yet again.  Prior to dessert it was the same old story of immobilization brought on by over-eating.

Lauren Laughs About Turkey Sliders...Or Something Else

Cranberry Jello-y Thingies

This immobilization was further supplemented once the delicious pies made an appearance.  Two pumpkin pies, Tokyo bananas, and some other goodies made sure I’d be walking off something later.  But before that happened we watched some a new episode of Family Guy and some showtime series called Party Down.  It was okay…but nothing too special.

Food Coma Victims

Once the viewings were over, it was time to waddle on back home and be comfortable with the fact that an extra layer of fat would be keeping me warm for the winter.

A Race For Film’s Sake

This past week several friends got together to race against time for the sake of a film.  For three straight days from Thursday to Saturday; Jason S, Morwin, Suli, Andy S, and myself (with a few brief appearances by Rich M) put on our creative thinking caps to hash out a script and ultimately engage in yet another labor of artistic love…if you could call it that.  The meetings of Thursday and Friday were wrought with much tension as we came to bat for the scripts that some of us had individually written.  There were semantic arguments, discussions over location possibilities, and debate over the structure necessary to create hilarity.  In the end, the resultant product was “The Magazine Thief.”

While in all honesty, I was not in love with the script or idea for the film; I have to say that I was more than delighted to take part in the process of making it.  Ever since the Chris Cartwheel experiment I’ve grown quite fond of showing off my lackluster acting skills and I am even quite delighted to take direction.  I find that having experience in production makes all the difference when understanding where a director is coming from in reference to the constant need to redo scenes from all angles. I always relish the chance to make one take better than the last.

Andy, Suli, and Morwin On Set

While everyone’s acting skills, as always, exceeded expectation, the person who continues to impress me the most is Jason.  Not only was he fantastic in April’s “Light’s Camera Cartwheel with Chris Cartwheel” as a crazed customer, but this guy knows a thing or two about makeup as well.  Given certain wrinkles in our script, we were going to need an old man.  Having had some experience with cosmetic prosthesis,  Jason went to the store and then proceeded to spend 2 hours applying it to himself.  In the end, we had an old man.

Jason In Preparation

Old Jason

In addition to Jason’s acting and makeup skills, Andy deserves a lot of praise for his directorial and editing abilities (and dealing with the old woman who wouldn’t leave us alone and stuck her finger in his butt-crack), not to mention his openness to suggestion.  Between efficiently churning out all of the scenes on location and putting all of it together and making it flow, you couldn’t have asked for a more competent head of production.  I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention Andy’s semi-hired gun Taylor who did a great job lighting and shooting the last couple of scenes we shot.

Andycam

Ahmad Getting Into Score Mode

Ajay WRiting A Little Ditty

Out of all of the projects we’ve done together, this certainly had the most professional feel, from the wireless lav mics down to the HD quality, not to mention Rich’s graphics and the fact that Ahmad and Ajay continued to produce some of the best score music and theme songs possible.  It gives me much hope that our next film will be even better and we’ll eventually win one of these things, though I think we can do much better than winning some “Film Racing” contest.  I think we need to strike out on our own and just start filming webisodes of something.  Waiting months for someone to give us a contest to enter seems like a waste of talent and time.

We’ll see what comes to pass in the future, but we’re still dealing with the present right now…and at present what we’re dealing with the film we made this weekend.  So without any further ado, Geniot Films presents “The Magazine Thief”:

RIP Quizmaster 72: Ken Ober 1957-2009

Li’l Evan Kessler wasn’t like the other kids.  MTV mattered and not much else did.  Sure, I watched shows like Perfect Strangers, Family Ties, and Growing Pains, but between episodes of Pinwheel, You Can’t Do That on Television and network appointment TV, most of that broadcast space was filled in by one channel.  That channel was MTV.  As one of the first kids on my block to have access to Music Television, I was transfixed by the endless stream of videos that would forever retain classic status and satisfy my need for nostalgia nearly 30 years later. From pop music stalwarts like Talking Heads and Madonna to lesser known one hit wonders like Luis Cardenas, I loved it all.

While most of the airtime over the first couple of years on the fledgling, soon-t0-be- iconic pop culture network was reserved for a steady stream of videos, band interviews and bantering VJs; perhaps my favorite half-hour in early days of MTV was the game show known as Remote Control.

Featuring unassuming host Ken Ober, the gruff announcing voice of Brooklyn-native Colin Quinn, comely Kari Wuhrer and budding talents like Adam Sandler and Denis Leary; MTV’s first original non-musical program was reflective of the off-the-cuff attitude embodied by an idea as crazy as “Music Television” was at the time.  Whether contestants were choosing to answer questions from silly categories like “Dead or Canadian”  ( I swear I remember someone answer Canadian for Elvis Presley once) and “Leave Out The Beaver”; listening to character driven soliloquys from Stud Boy or just singing along with Colin; the show reflected the notion MTV was an experiment that didn’t take itself too seriously and was more concerned with celebrating popular culture than being it’s sole arbiter.

Remote Control was a shining example of the MTV I fell in love with.  Between the snack breaks and losing contestants being sent hurtling through the backdrop still attached to their la-z-boy chairs, there was a clumsy charm, a tongue in cheek sense of humor, and ultimately MUSIC VIDEOS!

The people weren’t all pretty, but they were having fun.  I’m not sure when the current, glossy, self-important sheen that’s depicted in shows like “The Hills” took over the network (though my semi-guess is when the sex and immaturity based humor of ‘The Jenny McCarthy Show’ took the place of actual humor produced by “The State”) and maybe with the vain nature of the pop star it was there all along. But for me early MTV’s devil-may-care attitude  never shone as brightly as it did in those 30 minute romps from 1987-1990 hosted by Ken Ober.  Sure there were plenty of great videos that came after and a few great shows as well, but Remote Control might just have been the program that showed me just how fun it could be to watch TV.  So when I heard last night that the host of my favorite late 80’s game show had passed on before his time, I didn’t shed a tear, but I certainly felt like a small part of my childhood had died with him.  Rest in peace Quizmaster 72. You will be missed.

31 With A Bullet

One week ago, the moderately sized house/person that Susan and Steve built (on a cold winter night in 1978) and eventually named Evan, celebrated the dawn of his 31st year on this earth. This person, me,  didn’t immediately tear the roof off the 2nd year of my 3rd decade on this earth.  Rather, I had a modest drinkapalooza at High Dive in Park Slope with a few select friends who were able to make Wednesday night one for alcohol and old age induced merriment. Several days later, I held an even bigger event to more officially ring in the new year, so to speak.

The days in between the two jubilees of insobriety were not marked by boredom.  Well, Thursday was largely marked by the resultant cruel apparatus of the night before known as “the hangover.” Having soldiered on through the pain I was able to pick myself up by my party bootstraps for a not-so-selfish celebration in honor of the 31st year of one Kate H, taking place at Prospect Heights own Soda Bar on Friday evening. The night air was relatively warm and the friendly vibes put out by the birthday girl and familiar faces of Jason, Deirdre, Marty, Goody, Chris, Cyrus, Alice and a few other friends certainly went a long way towards making my wagon feel welcome.

It had felt like too long of a time since I had been together with this motley bunch of collegiate comrades and an even longer time since I hadn’t felt so deterred by the confines of Soda Bar.  Occasionally I’ve enjoyed a few of my summer sojourns to this popular space, but lately the subpar service and the particular party atmosphere hadn’t piqued my fancy.  Everything felt AOK though as it seemed our crew had a handle on half of the backroom and the waitress that relieved our original server seemed to be on point.

The evening quickly progressed through a flurry of Blue Point Toasted Lager as we transitioned from Happy Hour revelry to late evening bacchanalia.  I wish I could recount the contents of most of the conversations but really it was just a healthy dose of hilarity and happiness to be with one another.  A night with friends that had to end.  I ended my evening sometime in the day’s 23rd hour…sufficiently full of what should maybe be termed the lager of laughter.

Saturday morning saw the dawn of big things.  I was hours away from my night to shine, but I wasn’t ready to rally until sufficiently later on.  A majority of my morning and afternoon were spent lazing around.  Perhaps I got some lunch or made myself a snack .  I zoned out on college football that I wasn’t quite interested in.  It wasn’t my actual birthday, so I didn’t feel the responsibility to make the daytime portion into something memorable.  I may have gone for a run though.  Who can remember these things days later…oh yeah…usually me.

In any case, I thought that despite it not being my actual special day I might as well have an especially filling dinner.  Andrew M accompanied me to La Taq.  He didn’t eat anything but I took in a hearty helping of Enchilada while he sipped a few beers and nipped at some chips.  We made small talk about the evening expectations and headed back to the old abode where we killed time til the evening festivities at the Fort Greene/Clinton Hill watering hole known as Rope.

Basset was watching The Godfather in her room and Andrew and I watched along for a bit before we got briefly ensconced in a conversation about how great “Comedy Tom Hanks” is.  This led to us looking up the rap music video from the 1987 film adaptation of Dragnet entitled “City of Crime” featuring Hanks and Dan Aykroyd (which my brother and I used to love).  Really priceless stuff.  Watch below, I think you’ll agree.  Notice Comedy Hanks in his high pitched comedy voice.

Soon after Hanks/Godfatherfest ‘09, our apartment had new visitors.  Former roommate Jenny C was on hand with her brother Eric who was visiting from I think North Carolina.  Eric immediately launched into movie talk with Andrew, effortlessly gliding into the social dynamic and snapping photos along the way.

Me and Jenny C-A

Jenny, Eric, Andrew, and Laura all got started with a few brews before heading out, but preferring to not get too soused in celebration early, I took a pass opting for Green Tea.  However, when the clock passed 9pm I was ready to take a car to the town of funville that resembled a bar spelled R-O-P-E.

Bassett, Andrew and I at Rope

Arriving at Rope just before 9:30pm we were greeted by Matt F slinging drinks along with a few friends from the previous night lined up at the far end bellied up to the bar.  Katey, Jason and Marty had all made it on the early side and I was delighted to see them.  Between the several of us already at the bar we established a few good spots to call our bar basecamp and work out of there all night, but by the end we had established that anyway.

From the moment we arrived a steady steam of friends flowed in.  Robert and Megan came bearing gifts from Jennie who couldn’t make it due to being under the weather.  However, she did provide an absolutely delicious chocolate cake to go with a bevy of cupcakes.  Bassett also supplied a host of delicious homemade treats and a delicious cake.  It was certainly the “sweetest” birthday on record.  I was pretty sure by the time I had sampled all of the chocolatey goodness I’d have to leave with a stomach ache and end the party.

Bassett's Dinosauriffic Cake!

Luckily that did happen and I was able to share plenty of drinks and plenty of good times with friends.  From Marie who praised me for wearing my “cute boy sweater” but criticized me for wearing a red undershirt (along with Robert) to Reva who had the misfortune of being repeatedly hit on by other drunken cohorts.  Rich, Lina, Suli, Kishore, Ajay, Arby, Rebecca, Marisa, Bess, Deena, Summer G and many many more.  Holy crap there were a lot of people to talk to and I think I talked to all of them at some point.

I didn’t think I’d have the wherewithal to make it through an entire evening but as the bar closed down myself, Marty and CS were still standing…and were pretty hungry.  We closed the evening out at the Purity Diner where I happily inhaled a grilled cheese with tomato, bacon, and a side of fries before heading home to sleep til my Sunday was solely utilized for the good lord’s restful intentions.

‘Twas an excellent celebratory birthday weekend…one that I unfortunately do not have enough pictures of.  I certainly remember having plenty of photos taken of me…so kindly hand them over.  I want more memories.

Evan Kessler’s Astrological Outlook for Year Number 31

There seems to have been a format shift in the way the New York Post’s Sally Brompton does her “If Today Is Your Birthday” Horoscope posts over the last year.  For one thing, they used to show the correct date.  I guess tough times call for less bold print lettering and a briefer yet less snappy title, in addition to not really caring whether the appropriate date is affixed to the article at hand.  That being said, I still look to the starry-eyed Miss Brompton for astrological guidance every time November 4th rolls around and why should this November 4th be any different?

Miss Brompton is right.  If there’s anything I feel fearful of at the tender old age of 31 it’s the future.  Three plus decades of ups and downs have the potential to turn a soul rather weary.  In spite of a rather steep nose dive that this ride we call life has taken the last couple of years and even over the last month, with the very real threat of financial ruin and sorry state of employment, I’ve nonetheless begun to feel some slight sense of vindication.  Prior to even reading the latter part of Sally’s birthday analysis, I’ve found myself looking at a glass that’s just reaching it’s half full mark.  I’m not sure if this is the product of new connections, or the recent spate of weddings that has shown me the absolute peak of  happiness in others, or maybe just the act of making new friends with the ability to make killer chalk portraits of me on tables.  All I know is that over the last few weeks, despite all that resembles fecal matter soaring towards rotating fan blades, I feel happier and more optimistic. While I think Ms. Brompton’s words to be obvious and pedestrian, that doesn’t make them untrue.

So here’s to year 31 and attempting to maintain an optimistic outlook throughout…or at least until it gets really cold in winter and I decide I don’t want to leave the house.

31 Today

Let’s Get Hallowed!

One of These Pumpkins Is Mine...Can You Guess Which One?

Evil spirits rose from the fiery pits of Hades, Sexy cops fled with reckless abandom from their sexy precinct, and Internet memes came to life, all to rendezvous at countless parties across the earth’s surface in celebration of All Hallow’s eve.  Although Pumpkins were carved and lit on Thursday evening the 29th, it was Saturday night when all of the party monsters came out to shovel haunted candy and frightening amounts of alcohol into their eerily adorned mouths.

Where was your kindly blog impresario when the ghouls and poorly costumed came out to play.  Well, as your kindly blog impresario, I’d like to think I was in the thick of it.  After a marathon such as Friday evening that included local watering holes, going away parties and ultimately karaoke; many revellers would’ve cowered in the face of another night on the town.  Instead I embraced it.  I took to the streets at a strange hour as children were scouring the neighborhood in search of sweets.  It was close to 3:30pm when I met Arby for lunch.  And as my companion said as we walked towards Press 195 for some halloween afternoon sustenance my meal companion remarked that  it was “like someone opened up the box of kids and dumped it out on 7th Ave.”

While 7th Avenue in Park Slope was littered with little ones transformed into their or their parents favorite fictional characters, 5th was slightly less inundated with miniature demons and princesses.  However, as Arby and I sat at the bar awaiting our late lunch a steady stream of kiddies filtered in demanding treats, as they most certainly were not looking for tricks, save for maybe the five-year-old dressed in a pimp outfit.  While most of the kids that crossed our path whilst eating were in the spirit, one mother brought in her two toddlers dressed in normal clothes carrying plastic bags.  I was sort of offended by the lack of effort.  The mother, who I’m pretty sure was an immigrant and possibly unaware of how seriously we take Halloween in this country was seemingly unaffected by the costumed tradition of the holiday, instead preferring that her children get hopped up on sugar rather than learn to exercise their creativity.

After finishing up our meal at Press 195 Arby and I split off.  I had to go home and fix up my costume.  I was going as a veiled insult/threat and in order to make as much sense as I could I was going to have to somehow conjure up a phrase that hinted at an insult to write on my plain white t-shirt.  I already figured that my threat shirt would read “My fist, your face.”

Rather than get straight to work on my evening party wear I pondered the phraseology for a bit before drifting off to dreamland.  I napped for about an hour and a half before procuring sharpies from my roommate’s room.  I immediately got to work on drawing up my threat which included the aforementioned phrase in addition to tracings of my fists.  For the veiled insult I decided on: “Your costume is so creative,” meant in a sarcastic manner.  Hopefully, people would see through my lacy veil I’d be clipping to my hair and draping over my person.  I wasn’t holding out hope and was sort of regretting I hadn’t conjured up a silly character to be, but the point of no return had passed. As I readied for the evening I began to sing the Monty Python “Lumberjack Song” and began to wish I had just gone as a lumberjack with “suspendies and a bra.”

It was 10pm when I finally left the house ready to party, candy in hand en route to get a six-pack.  There was another party I had originally planned going to on that night but I wasn’t going to be able to make it.  I texted my friend Jess who I had previously planned on meeting up with there.  Jess sent me a confused email that alerted me that I had missed the party, for it had been the previous evening.  Funnily enough, I had just seen the “Curb Your Enthusiasm” episode where Larry David pulls the going the day after to a party you don’t want to go to trick.  It’s not that I didn’t want to go and I didn’t plan on showing up the day after on purpose…but if I had done that it would’ve seemed like I had completely stolen that episode’s premise.

Oh well.  I always think it’s better to go to one party than to try to go to too many parties and spread yourself too thin. So I got to my friend Andrea’s place in Prospect Heights at the very same point as my friends Lina and Maya.  I expected to know a good deal more people, but a lot of regulars were there. Kishore (as something), Suli (as “The More You Know” PSA),  Jes P ( as a heartbreaker/ripper) , Rich (as Inspector Gadget), Jeni L (as an Irish person, Summer (as a banana/plantain), Jason (as someone who was a little too fond of knitting), Enisha (as OG-Original Grandma/Gangsta), and Jennifer the downstairs neighbor (human skeleton) all made the scene along with plenty of people I didn’t know.

Kishore As Guy In A Shirt

Homemade Skeleton Girl

Halloween parties are weird for the sole fact that you may, in fact, know everyone there but behind all of the effort expended on disguising oneself, you could miss out on a few familiar faces.  That happened to me with a few people.  It took a while before I recognized Andrea’s friend Pete and then I just kept staring at people wondering who they were.

Jes Rips Hearts on Halloween And Dresses Like A Zombie on Valentine's Day

My favorite costumes of the evening were Andrea who came as Keyboard cat and the girl who came as a slug.  I didn’t really talk to her, but I heard that she kept putting gobs of purell on her hands and touching people with it.  That’s solid effort if I do say so myself.

Play Andrea Off Keyboard Cat

Side View of The Slug

The party was quite packed in for about an hour and a half before everyone decided to move out.  It may have been longer but the prospect of daylight savings time and moving the clock  back confused me. There were accidents involving spills and broken glass, but for the most part crises were averted, people danced, and everyone maintained a generally jovial mood.

Jes Consoles Me After Separating My Atria From My Ventricles

As the night came to a close somewhere around 4:30 or 3:30 or 5:30, it was just me, Kishore and Andrea hanging out talking about general life things as I finished my very last beer before heading home.   It made sense that Sunday was The Day of The Dead, because I might certainly use the D-word to describe the way I felt for the rest of the it.

Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers with Ralph Stanley and His Clinch Mountain Boys at Carnegie Hall

How do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice!  Or if you’re Steve Martin, you get there by being one of the more talented human beings in nearly all facets encompassed by the arenas of stage, screen, and the written word in recent memory.  The ability to do a damn fine job finger-picking a banjo, can’t hurt either.

I’ve always had somewhat of a love/hate relationship with the work of Steve Martin.  The jealous part of me thinks he’s a total asshole for being so great at everything.  I only wish I could be as good at one thing  as he is at well…you name it, he’s probably an expert.  I bet he’s a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and a world class chef.

The other part of me finds the deft touch of wit and complete dedication he seems to put into everything to be totally admirable and absolutely endearing.  The latter, more positive part wins out 99.9% of the time.  So, it was with little to no hesitation that I accepted an invitation on Tuesday evening to attend Steve Martin in concert at Carnegie Hall accompanied by the North Carolina-based Steep Canyon Rangers with the legendary Ralph Stanley and His Clinch Mountain Boys slated to be the opening act.

To be as gifted as Steve Martin is to be allowed to display  at least a cursory amount of arrogance and for as long as I can remember Martin’s feigned air of superiority has been a staple of his humor repertoire.  While jabs at his own haughty superstardom would mark later banter in his performance, the perennially white-haired jack-of-all arts strolled on stage with his banjo at around 8pm and thankfully announced to the crowd that he had always dreamed of doing a Banjo show at Carnegie Hall.  He went on to inform the crowd that when it was suggested that the legendary Bluegrass performer Ralph Stanley be his opener, his response was, “Ralph Stanley doesn’t open for me.  I open for Ralph Stanley.”  And with that the show began, Martin picked his way through a short number influenced by several of his favorite banjo tunes growing up.  Following a generous round of applause Martin exited stage right and made way for Ralph Stanley and The Clinch Mountain Boys.

Bluegrass Legend Dr. Ralph Stanley

Clad in matching outfits suitable for a traditional bluegrass whoop up complete with cowboy hats and guitars, fiddles, banjos, and a standup bass accompanying them, the Clinch Mountain Boys sauntered out on stage followed by what appeared to be a tiny aged afterthought, shuffling to catch up with arms crossed.  The Clinch Mountain Boys launched into their opening number and the aged man still hung back from the microphone so as to patiently bide his time until it was his turn to make his voice heard.  As the opening instrumental came to a close, Bluegrass Legend Ralph Stanley stepped up to the microphone and gave a haunting rendition of “O Death,” a song more recently familiar to many music fans as a track on the acclaimed “O Brother Where Are Thou?” soundtrack.  After wresting complete attention from his band for that moment with his weathered, otherworldly wail; Stanley and company launched into the much beloved “Man of Constant Sorrow” which also enjoyed a resurgence from the aforementioned Coen Brothers soundtrack.

Steeped in 60 plus years of tradition, the hour and ten minute opening set by the legend and his cohorts rolled on like a steam train running on fuel made out of clawhammer guitar strumming and tunes played tighter than a parachute pack on a first time skydiver. The 82-year-old Stanley occasionally slowed things down with some stage banter; banter that made you realize just how young you were.  On several occasions he’d mention when he wrote songs, peppering in years like 1948, and 1954; probably long before many attendees were a gleam in their mama’s eyes. It was a family affair for old Ralph and the Clinch Mountain Boys as we learned that many of the players had been with him for upwards of around 16 years maybe even longer.  More than that though, they also featured Stanley’s actual 17-year old grandson on the guitar.  They let him sing a few too.

Perhaps the oddest moment of the entire evening came when Ralph Stanley invited his son, Ralph II out on stage to play a few tunes with him.  From the moment Two (Ralph Stanley II’s nickname) entered stage right, visions of Kenny Powers and many other of the world’s greatest black sheep bounced around the brains of the audience.  While everyone else was wearing more Bluegrass friendly garb, Stanley’s son separated himself wearing sunglasses, a dark designer outfit ,and a devil may care attitude accented by his cocky stroll to the microphone stand.

Ralph Stanley II

Just Kidding: This is Ralph II

Instead of thanking his father for having him up on stage, Two spouted off sales facts about his new album.  It debuted at number one, it’s been number one for a few weeks, and so on…  It was as if the former Clinch Mountain Boy was saying, “look at me dad, I can do this shit without you.  You may be a legend but you’re fucking out and I’m fucking in.”  While Two’s first song seemed like a stereotypical neo-country snooze fest, the second with his father and what seemed like the full compliment of the band, had a lot more life to it.

Overall, the full set performed by Ralph Stanley and the Clinch Mountain Boys was a solid outing with very few chinks in the armor.  While Stanley’s aged rasp didn’t necessarily travel that well through the Carnegie Hall sound system on occasion, he along with his band made you feel as though it were an honor and a privilege to be in the presence of such musical history and greatness.

Steve Martin and The Steep Canyon Rangers

If Ralph and Co. were as tight as a snare drum, Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers performance had about as regimented a feel as elementary school recess.  Martin’s original compositions were pleasant to the ear and full of toe-tapping, knee-slapping splendor, but they also had an airy, loose feel that was quite apparent from the get-go.  Throughout it all Martin kept the audience smiling and laughing with trademark witty banter.  He warned his bandmates not to be too talky as that was his job and threw wrenches in the conventional stage discourse reserved for expounding on song backstory.  At one point Martin was about to wax informational about the inspiration behind a particular ditty, launching into…”this song…” and letting the words hang in the air before actually playing it. He also told the crowd that the tour fulfilled a life long dream of his to go on the road with handsome men, referencing his bandmates in the Steep Canyon Rangers.

Martin again proved a modest host early on in his set, leaving the stage for his bandmates, allowing the audience some quality time to get acquainted with the music they play when not in the presence of such a superstar.  The Steep Canyon Rangers certainly impressed with the vocal harmonies on their Gospel award nominated track “Be Still Moses” and another song.

Martin soon returned to the stage and the loose atmosphere persisted even through a turn at more traditional songs.  He only provided vocals on two or three of his own songs with his bandmates picking up singing duties on the other non instrumentals.  Even the more poignant songs had a dash of humor as Martin introduced “Daddy Played The Banjo” as a song he wrote while attempting bad poetry, which he thought made for a good country song.

Even in the midst of delivering his blend of bad poetry, the crowd was never left wanting for someone more talented.Having such an adept comedian deliver  in the midst of such a fine setlist of quality music seems like a nearly once in a life time opportunity.  Martin’s songs off The Crow: New Songs for The Five-String Banjo may or may not leave an indelible mark on the Bluegrass community but seeing this undeniable talent’s combination of skills in action certainly left one in my mind.

In a fitting end to the evening after an encore or two, Martin called out all of the night’s performers to join in on the bluegrass standard Orange Blossom Special…and as Martin traded lyrics with the legendary Ralph Stanley, he made sure to throw in a “King Tut” just to make everyone remember from whence he came.