Stuyvesant High School Phys. Ed

In their famous "Fight for Your Right to Party" video, AdRock, of the Beastie Boys, is sporting a Stuyvesant High School Phys. Ed T-shirt. This comes into play, because my story is about the very same Stuyvesant High School gym class.
A friend just sent me a note on Facebook about her favorite story from our freshman year in 1990. So there we were in Gym class, wearing our stupid gym gear, doing the Presidential Physical Fitness tests that Reagan forced on all the public schools back in the 80's when the government decided all our American kids were turning into useless blobs, Remember those lame commercials of the kid standing in front of a video game that starts flashing about the program, the kid does a few crappy push-ups and then proclaims, "I'm a winner!" ? The best part is the old fossil of a coach that's supposed to inspire kids. Are you fucking kidding me?
Well, anyway, we were in the sit ups section of that, where it's dead silent in the gym while the teacher times 150 kids as their partner holds down their ankles, and they do as many sit-ups as they can in a minute. It's like 9:30 in the morning and my cheerios are still settling in, and now, I've gotta do as many abdominal crunches as I possibly can... I'm sure you can guess what comes next- I rip the grand master of all farts, reverberating off the white tile walls, and dampened only slightly by the horrified bodies of the other 150 or so 14 year olds in the gym with me. So I look at the scruntched up face of this poor kid, god, I have no idea who it even was, who has his head, literally, less than a foot away from my ass, and even though I know it means fessing up, my status as a gentleman prevents me from letting it slide, and I just look at the poor guy, laugh, and say, "Sorry..." so at this point, the whole gym breaks down in hysterics, I think even the gym teacher was crying she was laughing so hard, and nobody can continue, and we've gotta do the whole fucking thing all over again. Carla Melman, who prompted me to share this brief tale, loves to tell this story at every single reunion. And she always points out, if I'd just kept my damn fool mouth shut, nobody would've known it was me. But that's not the point, I tell her, I'm a man of honor. Clearly.

2007 Drouhin Burgundy Pre-Offering

2007 Clos Des Mouches. This was the first bottle popped in the US, just came over from France this morning. Drouhin just switched distributors and this is the new company's first run with them in LA. Out to West Hollywood to Ago (DeNiro's place on Melrose) for a pretty substantial line up, they really stepped up to the plate, pouring the Chablis Vaudesir, Puligny Montrachet Les Folatieres, Clos des Mouche Blanc (No Les Clos, Corton Chucky, Bat-Mont or Laguiche) Hey, I understand. And on the Red side, Gevrey Chambertin, some Beautiful P Cru Chambolle Musigny (My WOTN), and some Clos Vougeot. Pas mal. Even got a chance to meet Laurent Drouhin. He was very gracious. Sure wouldn't have minded getting a chance to taste the Vosne-Rominee and Def some Grands-Ech. but thems the breaks... See previous Drouhin tasting notes here


Broad sweeping statements about the wines and vintages: The 07's seem to be pretty good as near as I can tell, nice accessable fruit, good balance. To be honest, I simply don't have the experience to predict the future when it comes to Burgundy. There are people out there that can (or at least claim to) and I'm just not one of them, but anyhow, while no 05 or 02, think the 07's'll do quite nicely. My Winners: Chablis Vaudesir (GC) Okay, so I'm a sucker for Vaudesir, right next to the Grand Cru Les Clos, why pay more? The Puligny Les Folatieres was lovely, and so was the Clos des Mouches, but for the dough, my money's on the Vaudesir. Onto the Reds, the straight Vero is doing a pretty interesting job of a more modern style, and nice and inexpensive. My winner though, was the Chambolle-Musigny Premier Cru. The Premier Cru of Les Amoureuses is right next to the Grands Cru Les Musigny. I know, I know, I'm a real estate whore, but hey, maybe I'm just about emerging neighborhoods.... The Clos Vougeot was delicious, but I'll take the Chambolle Musigny at half the price.

Squirrel Nut Zippers and Entourage

Getting our tickets with Paige, unimpressed and in mid eye-roll, as per usual.


When we got there, Jimbo was hanging outside, and Brandy, not knowing who he was, but just liking his hat, asked if she could take his picture.

The first two vids are the opening act, Fishtank Ensemble, the last Is Katherine Whalen the chanteuse and soul of SNZ.

Repost: Fuck you, I do what I want

A repost from my other blog: How Much Does My Mustache Suck. Click on the orange writing, stupid.

Wednesday Night Burgundy Meeting (part two)

Well, only one's a Burg, but it's a catchy title. Jay and I sat down over some 07 Curran Grenache Blanc (Kris Curran is the one that put Seasmoke on the map) and 06 Vincent "Vinny G" Girardin Bourgogne Blanc to make some crazy tasting notes ala 750ml and possibly start a new blog where people can chime in. Instead of any great tasting notes however, we just drank some great wine. Oh well.
Alright, alright, quick notes:
The 06 Vinny G was delicious. But in all truth, it made me feel like a cheater to like it, a hypocrite somehow, cause it almost wasn't really Burgundian, but more like a Cali chick in a coiture country dress rocking a beret. If I've got a Burg, I'm supposed to want a Burg, but I loved every moment of this seeming impostor, and "it's not what it looks like, darling, ok, it IS what it looks like. Is this the part where I'm supposed to say we didn't plan it, it just happened? Je ne regret rien.."
Kris' Grenache Blanc though was a completely different story, no guilt involved, it wasn't supposed to be anything else. Fun, easy, voluptuous, but some complexity. Wow, she really IS a grad student who pays her tuition in ones.

Reggie the Squirrel

Whatchu lookin' at, mofo?



Our neighbor Jay, has started feeding Reggie the squirrel. Reggie was raised from a baby by another neighbor, so he's especially friendly. He likes to come off the tree right next to the house and chill out on the balconey. I'd tried to get some video of him hanging with us in the video below, but a loud garbage truck came by and scared him off.


Further video of Reggie fucking with Oscar the cat to be found here.

Tasting, Tasting, Tasting

Another big tasting, this time hosted by Southern Wines. First was the barrel tasting downstairs, then the main event upstairs with table after table of wine. The 07 Domaine Alfred Pinot was rocking. No surprise really, it's always pretty good, and the 07's across the board are something special. But still, I think it took the prize for the Barrel Samples.


Brandy overlooking the sea of (way too small) glasses. I guess I'm jaded and spoiled and all that, but come on, Southern, you put together this huge tasting, in a giant LA hotel, and then you supply crappy glasses? Really?


While I'm on a roll here, casting judgements all over the place, who the hell decorated this place? I can excuse a lame painting as general hotel art, but you put the furniture directly in front of the painting? Like Blocking the painting? Why not just put the painting on the floor?

Ten Thousand Waves, One Ocean

I got a wonderful piece of mail today from a friend back on the East Coast. Dennis (the artist), is a buddy, and a mentor, from a Sangha I'll do the service of not associating with this sordid blog of mine, a monk, and a generally all around great guy. He was kind enough to do some calligraphy for me that I'd wanted for some time; it's the Japanese for: "Ten Thousand Waves, One Ocean". I'm certainly not the first person to come up with this equation, statement, or, poem, if you will; and frankly, it's just a mish-mash, or holus-bolus (my new phrase AND a great small batch Syrah I just tasted, check it out if you can find it) of a bunch of semi-comprehensible, entirely misunderstood (by me) East-Asian, quasi Buddhist concepts. The jist of it, and I'm not sure I'm quite ready to get down to the nitty-gritty of it, is: Many pieces, one whole.
Of course, it's much more than that, but I'm continuing to learn, repeatedly, that just because I think something is beautiful and profound, that doesn't qualify me as the proper town crier to expound upon it. I know, because I've tried. I suppose what's special about all of this, for me, is learning, (or experiencing, maybe?) that shutting the hell up about all those wonderful things I think I've picked up, and actually listening to others, and their understandings, has taught me a whole lot more than just trying to run my mouth about my "wave". Putting "wave" in quotes, by the way, is really helping me to hammer home to myself just how corny this one little bit I've gotten so excited about really is. But more to the point, it's helped me to see the beauty in all of the pieces, instead of just trying to own the whole. And that's the trick, isn't it? Nobody owns, we all just rent...


That's Dennis to the left. And George, and Peter, and Michel.

Excerpts from a great wine review..

So this guy Nilay, has a great blog I stumbled upon, called 750 ml. It's a rich array of poignant reviews and strange insight. Here he goes on A Viognier..

"It has the power and freshness that most viognier, including those from famed Condrieu, desperately lack. Viognier is a rich, forceful grape--one that has the texture of oaky, creamy chardonnay, without all that, well, oak and cream. And as a testament to that, this Stephenson study actually makes me feel more powerful. Probably just the booze talking, I know, but you really feel like you could break tables with your head after drinking this wine. I guess that's the point. This isn't a great review. It's a tough wine to write about because words aren't what it inspires. It makes you want to do something, anything, all the way."

I love this guy's reviews....
Oh and yeah, this picture of Justin and Ryan has absolutely nothing to do with this post, I just think it's a funny picture.

D.U.M.B.O.

Came across this movie poster awhile back. This right here is the cross of Water and Adams St. in DUMBO, Brooklyn, where I used to live in an old paper factory. That's the Manhattan Bridge coming into Brooklyn, and my old place in the back and to the left. It was a great spot, and an awesome loft, an all around pretty cool pad- But Damn, not that cool. I hate Hollywood for overglorifying a place and then you get there, and there's no smoking white Caddy surrounded by cool ass 80's rappers in gold rope chains. Damn you Hollywood, Damn you, I say.

Sunday Funday

Well, first of all, this chick's got WAY too much Hello Kitty action going on in her car, so let's just start there... I mean, mittens for the turn signal? That makes the kleenex dispensers look downright crucial. But I digress..



So it was Thai New Year, and this is how we throw down in LA, Hello Kitty Gear aside...


First, we got these guys, kicking some old school rock...


Then, some Thai Boxing..


Then the beauty pagent, which was quite lovely, but after a few hours in the Singha beer tent, all we noticed were the clear heels, which promptly led us to our next convenient stop...

Sunday Funday Extended adult version

Oh, the scene of the crime... How quickly we degrade ourselves from the cultural merriment of Thai New Year to the other classic attraction on Hollywood Blvd: Jumbo's Clown Room. Now, a brief word about said clown room: Jumbo's is not for the faint of heart, it's a classic, a staple; dare I say it, a legend. The ladies that dance at Jumbo's are not your typical fare, but a part of the institution that is Jumbo's. There's no slimy DJ bellowing out who's on stage next, but rather a dry erase board, slanted just so, upon the coffee machine. The ladies aren't forced to dance to whatever tripe some uninvolved, removed, so-called master of ceremony might choose, but rather, the girls themselves can saunter on up to the juke box with their own two bucks and pick their own song. Should the ladies desire a bag of doritos on their way to the stage, they can get that too, at a conveniently located vending machine, just two clicks of their clear heels away from the stage. It seems our friend Jumbo has thought of everything.


There are many different theories about picking up strippers. Some people will tell you in involves money, others will tell you drugs: but no, I say, and dare I share it, lest you all ruin the beauty of the simplicity, it's all about one thing: Board Games.
That's right, you heard me, board games. These girls have heard everything before, there's almost nothing you can ply them with. So you have to get creative. Board games. Get them back to the crib, play some Jenga, give them some Corona, and they get naked. I don't know why it works, but it just does...
Hoo-ray

Gallery Night: Kehinde Wiley At Roberts and Tilton, and then onto LACMA

This one is "Napolean leading the army over the Alps". It's the first of Wiley's works I ever encountered, back in '03 I think. Currently it's at the Brooklyn Museum. This I think is my favorite of his pieces. He likes to take classical paintngs and scuptures and reimagine them with young African American men in the images. His latest show was about Brazil, which was still interesting, but didn't quite capture my imagination as much as Napolean rocking Timberlands (Double click on the image to see details)


Here we are in the thick of the opening.. People seemed to have a very hard time keeping their eyes on the paintings. How LA.



I tried to adapt a sort of patrician air next to the painting, but Gavin kept making me laugh.


Late Night LACMA which was a bit of a bust because we'd just been there a few days before. The paper mache exhibit was exactly as lame as expected, but I could go back to the Broad wing to check out the Serra's over and over and over.


Gav in the midst of one of Serra's giants.

Pop Killer Waving Super Lucky Cat

A new store opened where the old Los Feliz Lock and Key used to be. Alas, this is the price of Gentrification. I don't mean to over bemoan the loss of the lock and key place, I mean, all they did was move around the corner, and now I can buy over priced t-shirts in yet another store on Vermont Ave. Net loss or gain? Not sure. They did have the good taste to fill their window with waving Super Lucky Cats, so I'm kinda thinking this one goes in the favor of those walking down the street in Los Feliz. Now if we could just get rid of those posers pushing Greenpeace in front of Skylight books, everything might work out just fine.

Why I don't miss Brooklyn

This is an actual photo from my new site of interest, Fucked in Park Slope. This what you get. Seriously, this is what you get for living in Brooklyn. No thanks, I'll stick with LA. And another thing, everybody whining, "When are you coming home? Why do you like LA? What culture do they have there?
They don't have that thing. Or if they do, I don't know about it cause I don't ride the bus. Case closed.