Been Through Astoria Past The Horse With No Name

It has been kind of a spell since I last chimed with my two shekels. For that I apologize. A lot of stuff going on as it at last seems some job leads are taking root after months of dutiful gardening, in the metaphorical sense. Most recently a lead in Lancaster which, it seems, may want to tune me into their operation. The NBA season is underway, which I tend to absorb myself in and I'm in the throws of working on a One Act play concerning contemporary faith and religion and a couple poems reaching their final drafts. A lot of writing going on, not enough focus on Yesternow. I aim to rectify that with this post.

I'll wind the clocks back to the Sunday prior to Thanksgiving and begin our journey in Astoria, Queens where I was staying with Ben and Jake in their pad which they were kind enough offer me for the night to make my commute to the city for a job interview the next day a bit less of a grind. I love how the first and last thing I see every time I board the N and Q to arrive in or leave Astoria is the mechanical horse ridden so expertly by Sean Taylor, tamer of beasts great and small, warm-blooded or electric. It warms my heart instantly.

It was great to just sit back and vibe with Ben and Jake without any real plans. I can think of few more relaxing and enjoyable experiences in recent memory. Don't underestimate the value of simply reclining with your good friends and sharing thoughts, ideas, and laughs. A highlight of the evening was watching Ben Kraus iron his shirt so painstakingly only to have it wrinkle again of its own accord as it rested on a hanger. It was, apparently, a "wrinkle-free" shirt Ben found on the clearance rack at Kohl's. I suppose now it's clear why the deal was so good.

Anyway, I hit the sack early and woke in the morning in the same fashion. While I was just finishing up my morning routine, I was treated to an unexpected visit from their very Italian landlord, Sal, a stout whirlwind of a man speaking a mile a minute and switching from English to Italian mid-sentence, probably involuntarily. Fortunately, I have some experience speaking the Mediterranean tongue and we communicated together just fine with me even daring to speak some Italian with him. After he fixed the thermostat and we traded some bilingual pleasantries, he bid farewell and was gone just as quickly as he'd arrived.

I left myself moments after him and caught the subway to my interview. I had the unfortunate luck of sitting next to man who was nursing a cold and kept making a god-awful snorting noise, presumably to contain a runny nose. As much as the noise wasn't pleasant, it wasn't big deal; not to me anyway. Apparently that wasn't the case for this young woman about my age sitting across from us. Each time this poor guy made that noise that woman stared absolute daggers at this man as if to say, "Can you tell how gross that is?" stopping the application of her make-up to make these looks to punctuate her point. As much as I'm sure everyone in the subway car was at least thinking something similar, it was clear that the guy couldn't really control his bodily functions. This girl, wrapped in her business casual attire with freshly applied red lipstick and modest blush, was not cutting this guy a break. I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous overreaction of this impatient stranger and found myself observing the situation with quite a wide grin and a few stifled chuckles. Feel better, man, she doesn't speak for everyone.

The interview itself was solid. Less to say about it than you might think. It was for an internship with Flavorpill, which I equate to being a kind of hipster "Rolling Stone" for the NYC arts and culture scene. Just to give you some closure about the situation, they decided to go with another candidate who had more of a pre-existing knowledge of the NYC artistic underground. I can't argue with them and wish both Flavorpill and the new intern all the success in the world.

Following the interview, I found myself in the NYU area with the live-long-day at my disposal. I called up the myth and legend Elliot Greene, who I knew lived in the area and he was able to pass the time of day with me for a while. He gave me a first hand look glimpse into his Bohemian paradise as we strolled the streets and Franklin Square talking about the poetry scene, the highs and lows of academia, good cheap food, and the pursuit of literary creation. It was great to catch up with him and see that he was doing well. Shortly thereafter, I left Astoria leaving behind a family sized bag of Salt and Vinegar chips as a thank you to my hosts.

Two days later, the holiday weekend officially began and was largely uneventful in terms of blog-worthy stories. That Wednesday I met up at Matty's and was pleasantly surprised to discover that his brother, Kevin, was going to be joining us on the town that night. Kevin was wearing green, I was wearing blue, and Matty was in red. I commented that we kind of looked like Alvin and the Chipmunks, a notion which tickled Matty and I to no end and provoked us to attempt falsetto-laden renditions of a few of our favorite tunes. I think it's safe to say that after about three minutes Kevin wasn't nearly as thrilled to be out with us. In all seriousness, it was great time to be out with friends and as it is with most any Thanksgiving weekend, you wind up seeing a lot of old familiar faces which is always... an experience.

The holiday itself was a solid one and I hope you enjoyed yours. Nice to spend time with the family and whatnot. Among the highlights of the day were swapping a couple train stories with my uncle, as I've become quite the seasoned veteran of riding the rails to and fro and he is as well. I feel as though we were both holding back some of the stories we could have told due to my grandmother being three feet away from us, but it was nice to share some episodes in mass transit and hopefully we pick up the conversation again soon. It was also cool to hear a bit about my cousin's college experience. I feel as though his entering college kind of signifies the opening of a door to a new level of our cousin to cousin relationship. Already we were talking about some more personal experiences and feelings that in the past we had never really disclosed to one another. The prospect of us being a little more open with each other is, to me, pretty warming.

The next evening, I met some friends at the Kraus house and was greeted by some rather oppressive Christmas music coming from the house across the street from them. It only took about three seconds for me to be bothered by it and I realized that the music was coming from the neighbor's Christmas light set up. Before I even got to the door I was choked up with laughter at the idea that this bothersome soundtrack was not an isolated incident, but an all day everyday staple of life on Niagara St. Ben answered the door and I feel like from the wry grin on his face he knew what I was going to ask before I even said anything. I simply pointed across the way and said, "is that an all day thing?" All he said in return was "tell me about it" and I instantly doubled over in laughter. Emily went on to explain that here room was positioned in just the right way to get the Yuletide tunes in surround sound and again I was in a fit of hysterics. Poor Kraus'. Santa can't come soon enough.

This past weekend, I took a trip to York. Look for a post concerning that tomorrow.

Song of the Day: Phat Cat-Kyle Hollingsworth

Jazz Song of the Day: Rumor-Christian Scott

This Blog Post Is Double Breasted

A happy Halloween to all from this Winter Wonderland known as the east coast which is contradicting the time of the season more and more with every flake at rest on the autumn ground. To be perfectly honest, my particular slice of the Long Island suburbs had no snowfall and therefore has a climate much more befitting the night of fright, but from what I hear of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and other areas of New York, the same cannot be said of their situation. I had the pleasure of spending Halloween weekend in one of those less fortunate areas of New York, as I went with friends Astoria, Queens. The following is the account of a night and following day that will live in infamy from this day forward.

This past weekend, not only were we celebrating the one night of the year you can dress like a buffoon and be hailed for it, but it was also the one and only Deanna's birthday. We spent a fair amount of time and Ben and Jake's place where we had miscellaneous good times. I do have to say that my puns were on point that night. Not one to toot my own horn unless we're talking about NBA knowledge and opinions, I would hope that fact alone would vouch for the validity of my ego stroking claim. I mean, anytime Grebe is dressed up as a cow and Sean Taylor is dressed up as a dog, you're going to have some material to work with, but I was really outdoing myself, even by my standards. It would be overkill if I told you a few of them, but I do want to share my favorite of the night:

Jay's costume consisted of a fetus (complete with a nipple, disturbingly enough) attached to the side of his head. The wig which, relative to nothing, made him look a lot like Mickey Dolenz of The Monkees. Anyway, Jay, at one point, said something negative in jest. I replied, "I don't like your defeatist attitude." (Of course, pronounced de-fetus-t) I laughed to no end, and fortunately I wasn't alone.

For her birthday, Jay and I, with genuinely awesome back up voices from the group, performed a rather off the cuff, but pristine, rendition of "The Monster Mash" which we doctored a bit to better suit the birthday occasion. A tremendous time. Various other jams took place as Jay and Ben Kraus, appropriately dressed as Bob Dylan to match his sharp counterpart, Edie Sedgwick, portrayed by Deanna with a very convincing wig, jumped on the harmonica which he happened to have handy. Jake and I traded some rhymes, where I took the time to reference both Wilson Chandler and James Harden, much to Jay's udder delight. (That was a Grebe cow pun. Not the best, but better than a cow pie.)

After that we decided to brave the elements and head out to a bar where costumes were abound. I quickly made friends with a girl named Tamika. It was great to talk to her, for sure, because we wound up with a whole lot in common (appreciation of sports, jazz, fear of the letter "c", etc.) but our initial introduction had its hurdle. I asked who she was for Halloween, she gave various hints, I eventually guessed Columbiana (a recent movie about a girl who kicks butt that I don't think very many people saw), she corrected me, saying she was Rosario Dawson's character from Sin City. I promptly replied "wow that's an old movie at this point." I said it in such a way that was not at all sensitive, supportive, or appreciating. She justifiably just stared at me for a second and I apologized after realizing how impulsive I'd been. I must have seemed like quite the judgmental ass who was wearing nothing but a giant foam cowboy hat; not exactly the kind of costume in which you should take yourself too seriously. We shared a hearty laugh about it and spoke for another 10 minutes or so before I slid out to be with my friends. In one of the more moving moments of my life, my friends later raised a toast to me. Not too much to say about that other than it was a really awesome thing to do that I really wanted to take the time to thank them for.

We stopped at a second bar for about ten minutes. Nothing of note was happening except for a girl named Monica celebrating her birthday. Happy birthday, Monica, you're birthday is now immortalized in semi-permanent form on the Yesternow blog for all its small, but passionate, readership to acknowledge. HUZZAH!

(Did he just say huzzah in all capital letters? Is he drinking? Does he really think we care? Is Conan new tonight? Did I remember to lock my car?) All compelling questions, dear reader.

Anyway, the third bar we went to was really quite poppin'. (I don't think I can pull that word off) We had a great time meeting new people. For the record, I don't think there is any better wingman than a guy with a fetus on his head (strength in numbers). In all seriousness, Jay and I had a great time getting to know new friends.

Now, by no stretch of my rather active imagination do I consider myself a ladies man, but apparently there was another sheriff in the bar who was rather envious of the attentions I was receiving and he pulled a VERY FAKE ORANGE gun and starts kind of playfully instigating his dislike of me. It was mostly hat envy, I'm sure. I just took Joan, Jen and the others away from the scene and nothing really went further. I do believe that the guy, while far from being cool, was trying to joke around about the situation and was just either too drunk or socially inept to do so properly. Jay was pretty bothered by the exchange and hopped in to call him out and make him seem foolish. I hung by to make sure it got no further than that and it didn't and we carried on our night without further incident. In hindsight, I probably should have been more upset about it, but I was having too much fun otherwise and it's probably for the best of the whole situation that I let it roll off my back the way I did.

Eventually, the bar wanted to close so we were politely kicked out of the place. In the hustle to gather everyone together, we lost track of a few people, including our own friends much less the new ones we'd just made. (Between you me and the wall, kind of bummed I didn't grab Joan's number.)

It wound up being Sean Taylor (a dog mind you), Jay, and I finding our way back to Ben's place. We were going a way that neither Jay nor I were familiar with and wound up trusting Sean Taylor unleash his inner hound and follow his nose to lead us back to the pad. For a while it felt like the blind seeing eye dog leading the blind, but I have to say he did get us back in one piece, but not without some episodes along the way.

Now the entire walk home, Jay and I were had the uncontrollable urge to help our fellow man. The whole trip Sean Taylor kept lamenting how cold he was. Every time he did so, I insisted he take my coat. He never accepted, but as I sign of protest I walked home with no coat on myself. If my friend was going to freeze, by God so was I. Also on our trek, there was a guy around our age packing up these chairs at the end of the night. He was struggling to do so and a few of them were falling. Jay and I asked him if he needed some help. He distinctly said no thanks and we distinctly ignored him and helped him stack all the chairs. He was very grateful. No one was going to get in between us and a good deed that night.

At one point, Jay and I grew concerned about the direction we were going and wanted to grab a cab for ourselves just to be sure. Sean Taylor was adamant he knew what he was doing and for the record, he was right. Nonetheless, we stopped a cab and were greeted by two friends literally pulling a third out of the back. Now, this guy was OUT. We're not talking can't walk, we're not even talking can't stand, we're talking positively out in an unintentional drunk coma. As soon as the friends drag this guy out, he immediately slams flat on the sidewalk without even reacting to it. His boys are saying that he has to get up and are trying and failing to drag him on the sidewalk and get him up. Jay and I did not bother to help them, for they were beyond saving. As we went to hop in the car, we realize that the slumbering brother had hurled all over the back of the car. The cab driver tried to coax us to stick around while he cleaned the inside. Naturally, there was no way we were getting in that car. The driver said that all he needed was some alcohol to clean it up with. In my last pun of the night I said that it looked like alcohol caused this situation in the first place. We got out of Dodge and Sean Taylor got us home.

Ben Kraus let us in the apartment and immediately Sean Taylor bit the hand that housed him and laughed at Ben's attire, a double breasted jacket. Sean Taylor soon found himself in the doghouse, if you will. An d apparently quite the debate took place after I fell asleep as Sean knocked the double breasted look and Ben made fun of the "football pads" in Sean's sweater. The whole while, Jay laughed unabashedly while Sean Taylor threatened to punch him in the face. I wish I could be your primary source on this story, but by all secondhand accounts, it was incredible and Deanna has it on video which is wonderful news. Some moments deserve to live on forever.

The following morning we had planned to leave at a reasonable time, but it turns out Sean Taylor had forgotten his coat at one of the bars we went to and his car keys were in the coat pocket. A moment that was as inexplicable as it was unfortunate. We spent the day retracing our steps and hoping that at least the keys were turned in. No such luck... and no sign of Joan either.

Notice that the man making fun of the jacket last night had no jacket at all the next day. Also notice that the whole time Sean Taylor was saying he was cold that night, neither Jay nor I asked him where his coat was.

As if things couldn't get worse, Ben Kraus had blown a tire on the way to dropping off Deanna and needed Jake's jack to fix the flat. We all lent a hand and got the tire fixed with relative ease as soon as we figured out where, specifically, to put the jack. While we were struggling briefly, Deanna hung out in the car and was enjoying the show. After a while we realized that something was amiss and no one knew where Sean Taylor was. I wish I could say that wasn't a common occurrence, but I can't. After a couple minutes, we realized that a giggling Deanna had a guest in the car that was none other than Sean Taylor, grinning and in her Edie wig. To say Jay was mad is kind of an overstatement, but the combination of Jay's frustration with the jack, an empty stomach, and a loafing and grinning Sean Taylor whose missing keys were the only reason we were still in Queens in the first place, was a little too much for Jay to bear and he lost it a little bit, threatening to put his face in mud, powerbomb, and frogsplash him simultaneously. For a few minutes, Sean Taylor was in a worse situation than the jealous sheriff, but cooler heads prevailed and the tire was fixed.

I feel the need to mention that the entire morning Sean Taylor was white as a sheet, sweating profusely, and really not feeling so hot in the least. My heart went out to him. After the tire switch, we went to a diner and feasted in style. Over the course of the meal, a much improved Sean Taylor mimicked Ben and Deanna's expressions of affection on a very uncomfortable Jay, who did not want anyone leaning on his shoulder, much less Sean Taylor. (On the plus side, Sean had long since removed the Edie wig.)

Having no luck finding the keys, Jay and I left for home with Jake while Sean stuck around waiting for AAA. I feel like even though this is one of the longer posts I've written, I'm still only scratching the surface of this trip. All I can say is that it was wonderful and memorable and I'm glad to have shared it with those I care about.

Song of the Day: Lorelai-Fleet Foxes

Jazz Song of the Day: Blue In Green-Miles Davis

There's Nothing Wrong With Being So Quiet

This past weekend, I made the trip out to Astoria to visit Ben and Jake. The trip yielded a few stories that I won't grow weary of recounting for quite some time.

The trip itself was quite memorable. Against all things convenient, Sean Taylor asked to be picked up in Massapequa. Jay and I set forth to pick him up on what would, on any other day, be a rather long, but painless, journey. However, heavens were not nearly as accommodating as we would have hoped, and some of the hardest rain I'd ever seen tumbled down. The weather caused most everyone to creep along Sunrise Highway as though we were trying not to wake a sleeping giant. In spite of even our most thorough of safety precautions, we and those around us hydro'd a couple of times as thunder and lightning crackled around us. In the face of imminent peril, Jay and I resorted to passionate vocal renditions of "Don't Worry Be Happy" upbeat Marley songs, and of course, "Stand By Me." While we both got a kick out of the juxtaposition of the scene taking place outside the car with the scene within it, neither of us ventured to tempt fate with a performance of "Singin' In The Rain."

Oddly enough, the hardest part of the whole trip was finding Sean Taylor's office. Sean was unfamiliar with the actual street names near his office, so we spent a fair amount of time going around in circle looking for a "place next to a Sleepy's." Things worked out fine, but I think we were both a little frustrated that we survived darn near swimming to Massapequa and were nearly sunk by a Sleepy's.

Astoria is a beautiful place. It's so full of color and life. You're near most anything you could look for and there is an active young population. So many different people coming together to make a great collage of humanity. A really chill spot where I could definitely see myself one day. We spent most of the time relaxing in Jake and Ben's great pad, playing some games and whatnot. Then we went out to a bar with some other folks. Along the way I saw an office for an accountant by the name of, John Constantiniou. You can't tell me that it's not hilarious to be an accountant and have "Constant I.O.U." in your name. What's more, is that the name is in huge letters that intentionally draw your attention. Now I admit to being a little quirky when it comes to word-based humor, but you can't say that's not funny on some level. Jay and I enjoyed the coincidence quite a bit, or at least Jay enjoyed my reaction quite a bit.

Sean Taylor showcased his True Grit by mounting a mechanical horse and riding it like the wind while waving to passersby and flashing the now all-too-classic horns all the while. I think all would agree that it was a 50 cents well spent.

"Sean Taylor" has now become an adjective for "way too drunk" amongst our group of friends. The fact that such a moniker has caught on is as hysterical as it is unfortunate. Sean was in rare form and having apparently drawn the short straw, I was assigned the task of walking him home. The trip was a stumbled one, during which we made a stop at a convenience store where I held him upright and offered chip flavors for him to accept or decline. It felt like an episode of the Bachelor (not that I've ever seen that......) except with chips and not roses. In the end it was the BBQ chips that won out, but the romance was short lived, as Sean got down to business and ate the chips the next day.

In true Sean Taylor fashion, we got back to Ben and Jake's where I had to coax him into bed (by himself, of course) and when I wake up, he is sleeping on the floor in the next room. When Sean woke up that morning the first thing he said to me was, "How did that happen again?" I laughed pretty hard.

Not to be out done by himself, Sean started off the next morning with a refreshing bagel and four loko. He then starting taking business calls as he lamented his position and longed to do nothing more than "tell everyone to fuck-off and go lay in the sand." Sean's seamless transition from Mr. Taylor on the phone, to Sean drinking a Four Loko at ten in the morning was a little eerie.

Later that night, I had some friends over to celebrate the night and we had a good time. The deck was full of friends, a few strangers, and some old friends that I'm glad to see back in my life again. Only one person got "Sean Taylored" so things worked out.

Sean Taylor himself understandably ran out of steam and missed the party. The man, the myth, the legend. There's always this weekend.

Song of the Day: Treat Me Right - Grace Potter
Jazz Song of the Day: Space Track- Freddie Hubbard