Monday, March 28, 2005
This Weekend Was Brought To You By The Letter F
Food: Went to two new restaurants. New to me anyhow, if not the world. Jane, on Houston, and O'Neil's, on Broome. Neither was spectacular. Jane was far more of a scene than I had expected but the skate special was too dry for my taste. Early on Saturday evening (it was a very late brunch that had become dinner) the bar of O'Neil's was full of people drinking the same drink, perhaps a cosmopolitan, so I was convinced I had walked into a private party. Turns out that the place is on some sort of Sex & the City tour and during the early evening hours entertains at least five different tour groups. Thankfully the restaurant was free of tourists. They seated us at the best seat in the place.
Frivolous: On the way to O'Neil's, I stopped in a store I had never seen before called Ted Baker. Ridiculous English striped shirts, suits with gaudy lining and the feel that this is probably where Austin Powers shops. Ended up walking out with two new suits, three ties and a pair of shoes. Ridiculous. Need to pay a visit to my tailor now.
Film: Old Boy is a strikingly violent and stylish Korean import now playing at the Angelica. The less you know about it the better. Do not read the reviews. Just go see it. But be warned. I had to turn away from the screen at least three times to avoid disgust or horror.
Fun: On Saturday we went to going away party for a Cellar barfly who is moving to San Francisco this week. Afterwards my lads and I went to a birthday party for a girl at a bar called Black Door. I had been drunk there once before and had good memories. This must have been one of those false recollection things because the place was miserable. Made a few quick adjustments and discovered a party at the Upright Citizens Brigade. We met up with the other part of our gang in a midtown karaoke bar, where I sang We Built This City, and then everyone went to UCB. Wandered back to my local at 5 am, where they unlocked the doors and served us whiskey. Home by 7 a.m.
Family & Faith: Up by 10 a.m. on Sunday for eleven o'clock Mass at the Church of Our Savior, and then 12:37 train to the Manhattan Transfer Family Compound for Easter.
Fitness: The new regime includes murderous interval training, alternating running very fast and then slightly less fast for fifty minutes or so. You know you are done when you throw up in the bathroom of the gym. Nice.
Finale: Sunday night at home, organizing bookshelves and drinking Potato Barn Red. Fell to sleep reading The Impartial Recorder by Ian Sansom.
More or less the perfect weekend.
Frivolous: On the way to O'Neil's, I stopped in a store I had never seen before called Ted Baker. Ridiculous English striped shirts, suits with gaudy lining and the feel that this is probably where Austin Powers shops. Ended up walking out with two new suits, three ties and a pair of shoes. Ridiculous. Need to pay a visit to my tailor now.
Film: Old Boy is a strikingly violent and stylish Korean import now playing at the Angelica. The less you know about it the better. Do not read the reviews. Just go see it. But be warned. I had to turn away from the screen at least three times to avoid disgust or horror.
Fun: On Saturday we went to going away party for a Cellar barfly who is moving to San Francisco this week. Afterwards my lads and I went to a birthday party for a girl at a bar called Black Door. I had been drunk there once before and had good memories. This must have been one of those false recollection things because the place was miserable. Made a few quick adjustments and discovered a party at the Upright Citizens Brigade. We met up with the other part of our gang in a midtown karaoke bar, where I sang We Built This City, and then everyone went to UCB. Wandered back to my local at 5 am, where they unlocked the doors and served us whiskey. Home by 7 a.m.
Family & Faith: Up by 10 a.m. on Sunday for eleven o'clock Mass at the Church of Our Savior, and then 12:37 train to the Manhattan Transfer Family Compound for Easter.
Fitness: The new regime includes murderous interval training, alternating running very fast and then slightly less fast for fifty minutes or so. You know you are done when you throw up in the bathroom of the gym. Nice.
Finale: Sunday night at home, organizing bookshelves and drinking Potato Barn Red. Fell to sleep reading The Impartial Recorder by Ian Sansom.
More or less the perfect weekend.
