Today, for the touristy portion of our time, we (Steven, Aimee, Greg and I) ate at the Blue Moon diner, visited JoLynn’s store (Tokens, in Hell’s Kitchen), and briefly wandered Times Square, which is such a sensory overload that it’s amost like not doing anything at all.

There’s a point at which too much becomes totally Zen and Times Square achieves that. (In spades.) Steven hates it. If I lived here, I’d never go over there either. But as a tourist, I thought it was, well, touristy as fuck. So much crazy shit to look at!

After that we went back to Patti’s and rehearsed again.

Aimee, me, and Greg on the train to rehearsal

I really like Patti, she’s dry as hell and she cracks me up. (Plus she curses as much as I do, which I like in a girl.) She gave me a lecture for drinking out of her collector’s restaurant glass with Tweety Bird on it, replaced it with a paper cup, and then showed me her rather extensive collection of kitchy collector’s restaurant glasses. (Remember those 16 oz. glasses you could get from McDonald’s or something in the late seventies, the ones with all the Warner Bros. characters stencilled on them? She has a full set.) Rehearsal went well overall. I still think the group’s a little large, but it’s not my project.

Barbara, Steven, and Maggie Roche, at Patti’s
(sorry for the lack of flash and resolution, this is a camera phone pic)

After rehearsal was over, we waddled over to Amsterdam and ate dinner at Monsoon. Greg hooked up with an old friend of his, John, who came to meet us there, and Karen’s man Larry came too. John and Aimee knew Katy Garnier in common, so John called her and she showed up too. Dinner conversation was animated and stimulating and funny, and the food was great. Particularly the asparagus/avocado roll appetizers with the peanut dipping sauce and wasabi.

John paid the tab for all nine of us (or rather Time-Warner picked up the tab), bless his heart, and then we went outside and sang three of the a capella charts on the street corner. By the time we were done singing we had a crowd of about twenty, all wanting to know who we were and what we were doing and where they could see us. We did Sweet True Love and I wailed my solo right there on the street; it was fun hearing my voice bounce back from the buildings over the traffic. (I’m SO loud when I want to be.) John came over to me afterward and put his hand on my shoulder and gazed at me. I said, “You like me now, don’t you.”

He gave me a sardonic grin. “I like you very much now. You wail like a black girl.”

Sometimes I love being me. People meet me, think I’m funny, dismiss me. Then they hear me sing and give me this look. It’s so satisfying.

After much standing around and chatting, Steven and Aimee and I caught a cab back to Steven’s because he had to make a phone call at 10:30 and his cell phone had died.

Now I’m sitting on the futon chatting with Aimee, waiting for Steven to take me out for a damn cocktail. I am so craving a cocktail.

Tomorrow, we have to be at Live Wire (the studio Barbara’s using) at eleven to record. I intend to get up early and warm the hell up; I very much doubt my voice will be particularly supple at eleven in the morning since I don’t even really wake up until about 9 o’clock at night. Four singers on a mic; it’ll be a totally different recording reality.

I’m still madly in love with New York. I love the vibe. I love the people. I love the insane pace. I love the whole fucking thing. Nobody gives a shit; it’s wonderful and crowded and dirty and I don’t want to leave.

Right now I’m using JoLynn’s laptop on their balcony in their adorable expensive Chelsea apartment, and three dudes are about to have a fist fight on the sidewalk below. It’s warm and humid as hell and loud as fuck and bright as day at eleven o’clock at night, and I love it here.
——–

I didn’t expect to love New York.

I thought it would be like a bigger, dirtier, shittier Chicago. I expected to hate it. But it’s not and I don’t: I fucking love it here. (Manhattan, at least.) If I didn’t have a husband, a mortgage, and two dogs, I’d move here next month. For real. Debbie even said she could get me a job.

It’s muggy as fuck, though. I don’t really like muggy. But I love this city.

Please. Is there anything more utterly fucking cliched than loving New York?

~+~+~

Today we lazed around until past one in the afternoon, then took a cab and went out for lunch at some adequate but mediocre Mexican restaurant. (“There is no good Mexican food in New York,” Steven explained. “You eat Italian here, but the Mexican food just doesn’t work.”) We went to Service Station, where Aimee got her hair colored and cut – it looks fabulous – by the most adorable blond gay boy I’ve ever seen. (He verged on too perfect to be human, really.) While she was doing that, Steven took me a few blocks to a nice little bar and we had a couple of cocktails and talked about boys for a couple hours.

When Aimee’s hair was done, we met up with Greg at a nearby deli – he’d come in on the subway from the Newark airport – and we all went to Patti’s place on Central Park West. (Yes, I rehearsed at Patti Smythe & John McEnroe’s house, er, apartment. Consider that my name-dropping for the day.) The whole acapella group was there, and some of the sections of the songs were muddy as hell… but some of them really popped and sounded tight. It will be interesting to hear how this recording turns out.

After rehearsal, Aimee, Steven, Greg, Barbara and I went out for Indian food and had a lovely meal with great conversation.

Barbara, Greg, and Steven

At one point during the meal, I was looking out the window and made eye contact with a guy dressed up like Captain Cooke (or Captain Morgan, who knows) and he came to the door of the restaurant and kind of waved at our table. He then hung out outside the restaurant for awhile with two chicks dressed in fishnet stockings, but they’d all disappeared by the time we left.

We then picked Greg’s luggage up from Patti’s building and went down into the subway. (Fuck but it’s hot down there.) Since we had awhile to wait for the train, we found a little niche mosiaced with an underwater ocean theme and rehearsed some more; it was much, much tighter with fewer people. The accoustic was nice down there. When there weren’t any trains going by, that is.

Barbara, Ronnie, and Steven

Now we’re back at Steven and JoLynn’s, and have been singing and talking and drinking beers on the balcony. Since Greg’s here, I might end up sleeping with Steven and giving Greg the futon, since Aimee’s already sleeping in the kitchen on all the extra blankets. It’s pretty full in this tiny little apartment, but fun, and our host and hostess are amazingly gracious.

I’m having so much fun I can barely stand myself.

~+~+~

Misty called me today. When I saw her number on my cell, I figured my dog was dead or missing or something, but when I listened to the message she was just calling to say that they’re in love with Shiva and that he’s doing great and they’re letting him sleep in the damn bed with them.

Well, she also mentioned that he’d moped the first 24 hours, but apparently he’s now forgotten about me and is worming his way into their hearts rapidly.

~+~+~

I just fixed the comments function here on the blog, so you can tell me how much you love me again. Sorry about that.

I’m pretty certain that I’ve lost the entire rest of my web site. I think all I’ve got now is this here blog, and that I’ll be starting from scratch with Rants and the gallery and the home page. Ugh.

Lesson in non-attachment, I guess.
——–

I’m in New York! Hah!

I left work early yesterday at three, picked Aimee up, and we ran some errands. Then we drove to Des Moines, checked into the Holiday Inn across the street from the airport, went out for mediocre pizza, went back to the room, talk-talk-talk, passed out. We woke up at 4:45 this morning for a 5:30 shuttle to the United Gate for our 6:30 flight to Chicago.

Brett called me at 5:20 and was shocked that I was awake already; he wanted to know where the sleeping bags were. Pretty funny, considering he’d cleverly packed the night before and spent the night in town at Bo’s to get an early start, then had to drive back out to the farm to get sleeping bags, poor guy.

Anyway. Airport security let me bring my knitting needles on board, but they took my Bic lighter. “I want to know how exactly they expect me to hijack a plane with a fucking ligher. Macguyver could do it, but I certainly don’t know how!” I told Aimee. She laughed.

They left me FIVE SHARP BAMBOO KNITTING NEEDLES, and took my lighter! Go fucking figure.

We had an hour-and-change layover in Chi-town. We ate breakfast at Chilis (their potatoes were awesome) and caught our next flight to Newark.

Steven & Aimee in the sky train from Newark

Steven met us at the airport and we took a lightrail and a train to Penn Station. He lives a few blocks from it. His apartment is tiny and cute and has an adorable little balcony. We left our luggage here and went out for Italian food (he and I had glasses of house red wine with our pasta, yum). Then we took the subway to Central Park, where we met up with a fairly large group of people and rehearsed for a few hours. The group was really fun. I ran my solo twice and pretty much sucked both times, but I’ll have it ready by the weekend when we record.

I’d called Debbie from the restaurant, and she called me back during rehearsal. Eventually it was decided she’d meet us at Steven’s, and we three came back here. Debbie found us on the street outside the little store around the corner we’d stopped at to get beer and wine coolers and juice and water and I promptly hugged the shit out of her.

She and I sat on Steven’s balcony and raged for a few hours, covering our marriages, careers, fertility issues, blah blah blah et al. My God but I love that woman. (Debbie is my only friend remaining from high school. She’s an amazing human being. She’s beautiful, smart, deep, sensitive, strong, and fabulous on so many levels, you just couldn’t possibly believe it.)

After awhile the other three joined us, and we just talked and drank and smoked and talked. Debbie finally left a little past eleven because she has to work tomorrow.

And then it rained like hell for awhile and cooled off somewhat while Steven and his roommate and Aimee and I sat on the balcony some more.

Steven’s roommate is adorable. I brought my Amma doll with me, and when I handed her the doll she promptly burst into tears. She knows of Amma, even though she’s never had darshan, and the whole episode was sweet as hell.

Aimee’s decided she has to sleep on the floor in the kitchen, so I get the futon in the living room to myself. I think I’m going to go check it out. It’s twelve-thirty, and I’ve been up since five.

There was a meme going around in which you’d post ten MP3s that you were listening to a lot lately, regardless of genre. I was going to do it… two weeks ago.

List ten songs that you are currently digging … it doesn’t matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they’re no good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying right now. Post these instructions, the artists, and the ten songs in your blog. Then tag five other people to see what they’re listening to.

Here’s what I came up with tonight. In no particular order. This is just some what I’ve been spinnin’ lately. I’m not going to tag anyone ’cause I wasn’t tagged myself.

• Wait Til You See Him (De-Phazz Remix)
  Ella Fitzgerald
  Verve Remixed
  JAZZ/AMBIENT – This track is just plain gorgeous. And the remix is lush, just like I like it.
• Northstar Robert Fripp feat. Daryl Hall Exposure
  ROCK – This track is off of Robert Fripp’s obscure and weird solo (i.e., non-King Crimson) album Exposure, which I used to own on vinyl. I love this chart for Fripp’s layered, textured guitar tracks and Hall’s killer vocal. Kinda reminds me of Abbey Road.
• I Can’t Give You Anything But LoveElla Fitzgerald At Newport
  JAZZ/SWING – Ella impersonates Pops. This is a stunning virtuoso jazz voice performance by a superlative artist at the absolute very very tip-top of her form. Plus it’s funny.
• Skylark George Benson & the Basie Band Big Boss Band
  BIG BAND/SWING – I love Skylark – it’s one of my favorite real book charts ever – and I love this rendition particularly because the horn arrangements are so incredibly lush. And the swing is so wide you could drive a truck through it.
• Still In Love Ben Folds feat. William Shatner Fear of Pop: Vol. 1
  POP – This song is for men everywhere who are sick of being shredded to pieces by psycho bitches from hell. It should be the masculinists’ anthem. Yes, Shatner’s on it, but he nails it.
• Liar Todd Rundgren Liars
  ROCK – In which TRi tells leaders of both sides of the conflict (the ones who send young men off to die) to go fuck themselves with a rusty wire brush. (‘And you send them to their deaths / with your every lying breath’.)
• Drawing Curtains Buck 65 Secret House Against the World
  RAP – This smooth, clever track is just plain sexy-dirty. I love it. Plus the French accent, OMG.
• You’re Still a Young Man Tower of Power Live and in Living Color
  JAZZ FUSION – Tower at its peak. Hot, hot, hot. Listen to those lip-splitting lead trumpet lines! This band swings like a BIG dog.
• Pass The Peas Prince feat. Maceo Parker Live at the Aladdin Las Vegas
  JAZZ FUNK – This track is off of the Live At The Aladdin Las Vegas DVD. This groove is so deep in the pocket it’s got lint up its nose. Go buy this DVD, I’m so serious.
• Next Lifetime Erykah Badu Baduizm
  R&B – I saw her perform this chart as a guest on Chappelle Show and had to have this album because I was intrigued by the depth of groove achieved with such restraint. Oh, and plus: her hair. It fascinates me.

I’ll upload and link to the actual MP3s tomorrow so you can check them out. I’ll also link to the albums so you can buy them. You should be able to play these files in iTunes or Winamp. If you have problems, change the extension from m4a to mp4.

(I just noticed that Skylark and You’re Still A Young Man are encoded. Also, I can’t find In Love on my external hard drive. I’ll add those links tomorrow.)