Sweet Blog O'Mine

Category: Music

  • 99 Cents Can Buy You Happiness

    At least temporarily.  The other night I was out at Odea with Manhattan Transfer.  A familiar song came on and we asked the bartender who sang it.  "Elton John," she replied, incorrectly.  I knew then what the answer was — The Scissor Sisters.  I went home and immediately bought "Take Your Mama," on iTunes, which has been in heavy, almost junkie-like iPod rotation since I made the 99 cent investment, especially since the recent meltdown.

    And thanks to all who have written to check up on me — I’m okay.  No guarantees that it won’t happen again, but for now, I’m good.

  • The Grass is Always Greener

    So it’s Saturday, I let myself sleep ridiculously late in preparation for what may be late night at the bday bash, and I’m puttering around the apartment, listening to Jonathan Schwartz on WNYC.  I just heard two of the most depressing Sondheim songs: Sorry, Grateful, from Company, which attempts to describe the characters’ feeling about his marriage, and Saturday Night from Saturday Night about how if you’re alone on a Saturday night when you’re single, "you might as well be dead."  Jeez.

    This brings me back to a conversation I had yesterday with some married and formerly married female work colleagues, most of whom are somewhat older than I am — they were basically saying that husbands were great to have around for reproduction purposes, but then they essentially wore out their welcome.   I sat there with a panicked grin on my face, then finally turned and said, "so I should pretty much stick with single life, huh?."  "No," one replied, "not if you want a family."  Yes, I do want a family, but I don’t want to be unhappily married.  Look — I figure I’m increasing my odds of a good, healthy marriage the later it happens.  Even if I met the perfect guy for me tomorrow (or tonight at the birthday party, perhaps),  we’d have to have a relationship for a while, so by the time we actually get married, I’ll be solidly in my mid-to-late thirties.  I would like to hope that would help to prevent the "bitter married" attitute. 

    And I generally really enjoy being single (well, except when I’m sick), but I don’t want to lose hope that I’ll end up in a meaningful, healthy relationship that will ultimately turn into a healthy, long-lasting marriage and a family.

    Some of you married folks out there, gimme some hope, will ya?  And single folks — we don’t have it bad at all, right?

  • Party Shuffle

    So I’m sitting here doing some work and I’ve got my iTunes on "party shuffle" mode, which, although it doesn’t really create the party-type atmosphere that might lift me out of the grey-day funk I seem to be in, makes me smile each time a new song comes up — I never know what’s going to be next.  Kind of like my life, I suppose. 

    In between bouts of work, I’m cooking up some stuff which is going to end up being either enchiladas or some sort of mexican chicken, bean, and tortilla casserole, depending on how I feel when all the pieces are done.  I’ve shredded the cheese, and am about to poach the chicken and make some enchilada-type sauce.  I was inspired by a new cookbook on casseroles that I picked up on the cheap at Strand yesterday.

    As for the rest of the weekend, Friday night I attempted to go to an opening-night party at Bombay Talkie, a spot billed as a "teahouse inspired by Bollywood  and the street foods of India."  Sounded great on the surface, but in reality, it was jam-packed, and the food wasn’t coming fast enough for me and my very hungry companion for the evening (although we did get a nice glass of Pinot Noir out of the deal).  I’ll have to go check it out some other time.  We skipped out and tried to go to Tia Pol, where I ran into a former colleague from Anderson Kill, but where they informed us that it would be an hour wait for a table.  We chose to head elsewhere before hunger-induced crankiness (and wine-on-an-empty-stomach induced drunkness) set in.  We ended up at a place called Bongo, which makes fantastic cocktails (including one hell of a sidecar) and a decent lobster roll.  I found it a little overseasoned, like the one at Mermaid Inn, but the heavily buttered roll softened the seasoning somewhat.  I still think I prefer Pearl for my NYC lobster rolls. 

    After dinner, I headed home, but caved in to that "I think I’ll just check in and see if anyone I know is at Otto" moment, which meant another glass of wine, and then through the magic of Dodgeball, ended up at The Stoned Crow, where I met up with Ned ("you know Ned through Nichelle," said Dodgeball).  Although I stuck to water at that point, I was definitely up a little later than I had originally intended.

    Saturday I had my friends Carrie and Brian over for brunch — made a frittata, which is my favorite thing to make for brunch-time company.  Acting very decadent, we made mimosas, and even had a little caviar and sour cream on rye toasts.  We were all a little too hungover to really dive in to anything but the fritatta, however.  After brunch, I did a few errands, and then some quiet time on the couch before heading to the Black Table party at Slainte.  I certainly took it easy, and went to bed at a reasonable hour, but I still had a great time catching up with some of my favorite bloggers, and my non-blogger (a.k.a. "normal") friend David even stopped by to say hello for a while.

    Tonight I’m going to the gym, eating some of whatever I end up whipping up, and then early to bed so I can get a jump start on the week — have a lot to do and I need to be energized, refreshed, and ready to tackle it all.  Let the party begin.

  • Christmas Wrapping

    So, for Christmas, I wanted to share with you my most favorite Christmas song ever.  And I mean ever.  Love this song.  Okay, granted, I also like the Chipmunks hula hoop song, but this one’s much less annoying.  Plus, it’s romantic, and I’m a sucker for romance.  Not only does this song rock, but they did a piece on the guy who wrote it on NPR the other day.  I got such a kick out of it.  I can’t find the link anywhere though . . . damn.  If anyone can find it for me, that would be fantastic!

  • I Love New York Because . . .

    I can go into my neighborhood bar and sit one seat away from Michael Stipe.  Sometimes, I do get quite starstruck.  Bono and Michael Stipe in one month?  Only in New York, my friends.

  • Another “Only in New York” Moment

    Gotta love it when U2 rides down Seventh Avenue right past your office on the back of a flatbed truck.   Yes, they’re blurry — too much adrenalin pumping to hold the camera steady!

    Bono1_1

    Bono2

  • The Power of Music. And Scent.

    I was having a discussion the other day about the power of a song to take you back to a specific place and time in your life. There’s a song on the Garden State soundtrack — The Only Living Boy in New York, by Simon and Garfunkel, that brings me back to a certain point in my life. The same boy who wrote me the most romantic love letters I have ever received also made me a mix tape or two, one of which had that song on it. At the time, I was living in Boston and he had recently moved to New York, so I imagined him wandering around, exploring the city, and the song to this day makes me think of him and smile.

    Similarly, when I was at OJ, one of the guys there was wearing the same cologne as someone I dated at one point. It’s amazing how the scent kept making me think that he was lurking around somewhere, even though I haven’t seen him in ages, and I certainly haven’t smelled him in even longer.

    Both of these things are so powerful, it’s almost frightening. And talking about it with other people makes me realize how pervasive this is — a song or a scent bringing you back to a specific place and time in your life — good or bad. The brain works in strange and mysterious ways . . .

  • And We’re Off!

    Off to the woods for our 8th (?) annual OJ — the October soJourn, this year to VT. I’m sure I’ll return with scads of pictures, several tasty recipes, and tons of nauseatingly-gushy-sweet things to say about how amazing my friends are. For a preview, read last year’s entry.

  • Amalga-Love and Smooches

    122_2275As usual, I’m a little too tired to do much else, but I wanted to post the pictures from the Mates’ 20th anniversary gala weekend. The Mates, or Amalgamates, is the Tufts coed a cappella singing group, in which I was not only a member, but president and business manager as well, not to mention president of the AAA — the Amalgamates Alumni Association. Or — as a friend of mine said earlier tonight — I was queen of the dorks. The Mates meant and continue to mean so much to me, as the speech I wrote for the occasion details in full. I can’t imagine you’d really want to read it if you’re not a Mate, but I just wanted to post it for posterity’s sake.

    You can find the pictures here.

  • Another New York Moment

    122_2243_r1_1Given the surreal and scary New York moment I had yesterday, it was somewhat fitting to have another completely contrasting New York moment last night. I met up with the new Mr. & Mrs. C to have some dinner and look at some wedding pictures. In the midst of the first album, Augie’s cell phone rings and he asks us to hold up for a moment. He then proceeds to tell us how he had convinced a street musician to come up and play some music for us while we were looking at the wedding pictures; he was about to arrive at the apartment. We were somewhat befuddled, but when, a few moments later, we had shut off the iPod and were listening to the sweet, lush strains of a cello as it filled our friend Nic’s apartment, it really did seem like a fitting accompaniment to the pictures. Augie had paid him $20 to play two pieces for us, and then a few of us bought CD’s; he presented one to the newlyweds as a gift.

    Only in New York, I tell you. Only in New York.