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Another man shares my bed
Part of Urban Confessions Week
…These are not the words you’d expect from someone married, partnered or involved… but it’s true! C-mixto finds me in bed with him every night like clockwork. He has come to recognize his voice when the covers block out his face, and rolls his eyes when he realizes that I am in bed with Craig Ferguson. Craig Ferguson! How I’ve developed quite an appetite to stay up late and watch you! How can it be avoided? You are truly a gifted comedian from what I see from your show, and the philosophic words of your theme song have convinced me that “tomorrow is” truly my “future yesterday” so I might as well stay up and be entertained.
You are one of the few celebrities I’ve actually taken an interest in learning more about, even buying your memoir (which sort of provoked this series, because I feel a little shame in this). It is probably your ability to keep my attention and evoke a sincere laugh from me that has spawned this regular habit of watching you. Your performance is fluid, jokes are spared the staleness often inherited from rehearsals. You are truly a one-man-act.
I have to say (does this constitute a double confession, one now to you?)… lately I have been watching your shows online the day after it airs at a time more convenient for me. It’s fun, but, sigh… not the same as the intimacy of sneaking off with you at 12:35am while others are asleep.
The Galactic Senate in NYC
Any of you been to the Rose Theater at the new Jazz in Lincoln Center at the 59th Street Columbus Circle complex? It is amazing. It is straight out of Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, a replica of the Galactic Senate! Not only is this an architectural beauty, the acoustics are amazing and the lights of the entire auditorium change along with the music. Music becomes not just something you listen to, but experience.
Doesn’t matter if the concert isn’t your thing… Let your imagination soar while in those comfy seats. Pretend you’re a delegate from earth, trying to catch the eye of cougar Queen Amidala or a young, muscular Jedi just as he’s exploring his dark side.
War of the Worlds
So here’s the apocalyptic side to “a festival of lights”. So it’s fine and dandy to witness the glories of the cosmos (like the recent Geminids meteor shower) and have near religious experiences in the process. Here’s what f*cks with your head either as a series of coincidences accompanying the shower, or the government trying to subtly tell you something:
- The Syfy (Scifi) channel or some channel was showing back to back movies about alien invasions. I couldn’t help but watch “War of the Worlds” which turned out to be a very, very bad idea. The remake of War of the Worlds plays on pretty much every fear you could have: alien ship attacks, alien robot attacks, air planes going down, drowning in cars, Titanic-like boat going down, aliens that incinerate you indiscriminately, aliens that capture you and put you in a metal farmers’ market basket until they are ready to thrust their tentacle through you and suck out all of your blood, human kind’s extermination, mob hysteria, loosing your child, apocalypse. For those who didn’t see the new War of the Worlds: the aliens arrive in a stream of lightening bolts from the sky. So I couldn’t help but have a lump in my throat while watching the Geminids meteor shower.
- Also, for some reason, the powers that be seem to be testing the “Emergency Alert System” out. A lot. You know, that horrible nuclear bomb alert sound followed by, “This is a test of the Emergency Broadcast system. If this had been an actual emergency…” Those who saw War of the Worlds will know that this same message was being broadcasted during the alien invasion, saying “this is a TEST of the emergency broadcast system”–a test– even though it was sure damn well past an emergency. This test was playing on my TV upon my return of watching the Geminids meteor shower. These series of events are a great way to become an insomniac, but I don’t know if I was scared or more annoyed by the fact that the announcement said “this is a test of New Jersey’s emergency broadcast system”. New Jersey? I’m not in New Jersey! Are you telling me that in the event of an emergency Inwoodites are screwed because Manhattan forgets we exist and New Jersey is calling us theirs even though there is a freakin river between us? Inwoodites better start building rafts and canoes because it looks like we will be screwed.
- The Hadron seems to be up and running again.
The broadcast alerts are still going on… Just when War of the Worlds was receding from my mind a day later, as I dozed off with a smile on my face listening to Craig Furgeson, suddenly, in the middle of one of his jokes, the horrible nuclear bomb alert sound blasted like a siren with a “test” message. Success in finding a sound that will jerk anyone out of a soundful sleep.
So take it as fiction and believe what you will. The arts are a great way to send mass messages to people: either to have us buy something, to act a certain way, to serve as a mirror for our fears and desires, or to subtly prepare us for an alien invasion.
Mission: Space
Wannabe Astronauts, Trekkies, and Nova-sympathizers, listen up: If you want the thrill of your life and don’t have millions of dollars or the balls for the real thing, Mission: Space should be your pilgrimage in life. It might very well be the closest thing you’ll have to a real space odyssey. A spiritually uplifting moment (to make up from the tears of joy shed on the Silver Golf Ball, to be blogged about soon) that I can only describe as a mind-f*ck if it wasn’t real and I didn’t really go to Mars. Mission: Space – continue reading …
You’ve got style, Miami
Major check off urban odyssey bucket list: sing this song into the Miami skyline in your bikini.
Space Odyssey in Washington Heights
This installment sits in the secluded woods of Fort Tryon Park by the dog run. I think it is a cleverly disguised black monolith from the movie: 2001: A Space Odyssey. Instead of apes jumping up and down to its presence and hum, you have dogs barking around it, perhaps triggering some evolutionary spark in them so that dogs evolve into their anagram: gods. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, visit the black monolith link.
If it’s not a disguised black monolith, then it is an ode to the types of radiators we have in Washington Heights.
Your thoughts?
thanks for depressing me, PBS
Saturday night… 9pm-1am on PBS is an exciting part of my week. After some jolly British comedy (Keeping up Appearances, As Time Goes By) I await the classic film (will change the channel if it’s not black and white), a short film, and if I’m still up, an Independent film. So PBS is celebrating Hispanic Heritage month so it lines up “Stand and Deliver”, (a hilarious short animation “The Lost Tribes of New York City“), and then the independent film, “Manito” shot in Washington Heights. Celebrate Hispanic Heritage! Let’s watch two films that show just how fun it is to be poor and brown. Your schools suck, your teachers mostly suck except for that one that believes in all human potential and sticks it out in the system as long as he/she can, and even if you do get good grades you will be accused of cheating because you’re not supposed to achieve anything. (Stand and Deliver). Learn the necessity of being a hustler to get bills paid, male promiscuity, how the hood swallows you no matter your SAT scores or scholarship offers, and poverty is a viscous cycle that brings you down. (Manito). I look forward to Masterpiece Theatre tonight.
Breaking the Matrix
My breaking the matrix… well it’s a lot of things, but right now the challenge seems to take its example in salsa and performance. It scares me silly, and I push myself, but shy away more. I retreat at the thought of watchful expectation, but also hold high expectations.
It’s good to know though that this matrix exists and you have to transcend it. I’m chugging along, even though I seek an immediate transcendental moment. And I’m brave enough to tackle the salsa congress with just, what? 6 months under my salsa spandex belt?
What’s your breaking the matrix?
Endangered species- local movie theaters
For better or for worse, we’ve lost a lot of our local movie theaters. In its last days Metro theater had cheap prices, peeling art deco decor, nasty seats, and I think only two movie rooms. But I didn’t have to trek on a subway or bus to see a movie. I could take a neighborhood stroll. I believe Metro is now land marked, so it’s in this odd limbo world of what to do with it. I hold my breath walking under that awning. It looks ready to fall flat down and squash you like a pancake out of anger for its decrepit state.
There are benefits to going to a mega theater- nowadays we want good sound and good images to entertain us, less so the storylines. And cleanliness is always nice. But loosing local places seems like one more step towards our cities becoming more like the affluent suburbs.
Bruce Leroy Dances Here Now
This post is completely dedicated to Roc Belushi of Harlem Hubris. He’s got one funny-ass blog on pretty much everything in the headlines, uncensored. Roc’s mind is a cool place to be in. His readers say he is a magnet for star-sightings, and he has some mean-ass commentary on them. He often graces me with his celebrity name knowledge because I am mostly clueless. Roc! Miss our lessons!
So of course I didn’t know who C-mixto and this big nerdy looking guy were fussing about in Cielo last night when the big guy kept exclaiming, “Yo! It’s Leroy! It’s Leroy!”
Bruce Leroy (Taimak) of the cult classic, The Last Dragon was taking in the beats of Alex Pearce and Cielo last night in NYC. C-mixto said Roc would appreciate a post on it. Him and his crew seemed way cool and I respect that he got down to the beats too.
You can also see him get down with Janet in her abstinence promoting video, “Let’s Wait Awhile”
To refresh your Last Dragon Memory, check out the fight scene:
