Monday, May 25, 2009
Five more postcards yesterday. I was in the studio from 1 until 8 or so, working most of that time with a beer break in the late afternoon when Teddy arrived with a sixer of Tecate. Around 8, I rode down to meet Haroula and AP at Zebulon in Williamsburg--Haroula was in town to do a set at Zebulon and AP was in town to work on a thing with his writing partner. Haroula played a lovely, introspective set to a noisy room. We then left and walked over to Diner. Well, not Diner, exactly, but the oyster place next to Diner--the name escapes me. Procured a big table in the back and the 10-12 of us all sat down for some grub and liquid refreshments. I didn't catch everyone's name or career but what I did catch--a film director, a financial analyst looking for investement in Sub-Saharan Africa, a partical physicist, a psychologist, a ethnomusicologist specializing in flamenco guitar--seemed like a typical mixed salad of the Haroula variety. (I know how douchey and pretentious it sounds--and oh-so-fabulous New York-y--to list all of that stuff. But, really, it is the kind of thing that happens here. It's fun. I'm trying to enjoy it without being all sarcastic and snarky about. Got it, motherfucker?)
I didn't really eat anything at the oyster place--I got a terrible, heavy, squidgy wrap from a deli near the studio late in the afternoon and it never quite settled comfortably into my belly. (Normally, they're a reliable staple for good sandwiches.) So I picked a few things off of Haroula's plate--a few potato chips, a bit of fresh pasta, a crumble or two of sausage, a bite of soft-shelled crab (Like eating a cockroach! Delish!) and a cornichon or two. I left the gathering around midnight--I still had a half-hour ride back to Astoria. The ride was great, effortless: cool night, empty streets for the most part. Home, showered off the grime and sweat, and in bed around 2 am.