Raise the Roof

On Sunday the girls in Hamilton Heights hosted a rooftop lasagna dinner. It was awesome. (The dinner AND the natural lighting.)

Hostess Christina

Sir Yantsalot on his first day back in NYC

Adrienne and Jared

Becca and Xaque

Martial arts master Chateaubriand

Christina again

Phil, standing funny

My life in a chart

You should all know by now that I'm obsessed with things like maps, charts, lists, and graphs (especially as they relate to some form of human activity). My latest creation is a time line of every move I've ever made. To count as a move, I had to have lived in the location for a minimum of one month. Let the dorkiness begin.

Vin Diesel

Last week I saw Vin Diesel after work outside of Jamba Juice on Houston Street. He was with two kids who I assume were his. They were struggling over whether or not to go inside. Eventually they decided against the smoothies and darted across the street. Jamba is NO MATCH for Vin.

Grossmont High School Reunion

Life is full of strange coincidences. Last month I ran into my old high school friend Adam in Times Square. He was my senior class president and fellow journalist for the Foothill Echoes. We graduated exactly eight years ago.

This past weekend Adam and I got together with more fellow former Foothillers Adele and Audrey to have a little reunion. The official 10-year reunion in San Diego wont be for another couple of years, but we figured we'd have an early east coast version.

(Special thanks to Audrey for the fine photograph.)

Stability Ahead

After half a year of transitioning, I think I have finally hit a stretch of continuity in my life. While the prospect of staying in one place for more than a few months is comforting, it will take me some getting used to. I've become such good friends with change.

So I redid the ol' blog to celebrate the fact that I've landed. And not in just one place, but two.

For those who I haven't spoken to in a while, I now live in South Harlem, one block north of Central Park. I have two LDS roommates--one an actor, the other a pastry cook. There is an express train half a block down the street. The gorgeous Harlem Meer lies just beyond it. Oh, and the rent is just under three times as much as I was paying in Provo. (That's actually a good deal.)

My neighborhood is an interesting mix of fried chicken shacks, project buildings, classic brownstones, and luxury condos. It's one of the most rapidly gentrifying neighborhoods in Manhattan. While the area is still unmistakably Harlem, there is definitely a something unique going on in these streets. Some are calling it SoHa (South Harlem).

My second home is in SoHo, where I work as a copywriter for Saatchi & Saatchi Healthcare Communications. I'm loving my job so far; it's great to be using the things I learned in school. Saatchi is an awesome company, and so are its people. Oh, and the location ain't bad either. Our floor has fantastic views of the Hudson River, Jersey City, the Empire State Building, Midtown, and the Statue of Liberty.

So, update your blogrolls folks if you have them. SoHa to SoHo is the new Semester Ten.

I was on MTV.

MTV is letting people be part of their studio audience for 24 hours. Here is a picture of some friends and me watching the band The National at the Times Square studio. Can you spot my back? To see more of it, click here.

Strawberry Drink Mix or Nazca Lines?

Does anyone else think this is funny?

Back in New York

Graduation

Click here to see pictures from my graduation. Maybe now that I'm officially done with school I can change the name of this blog. Maybe.

Separated at birth?

I'm not the only one who thinks there is a resemblance between Vice President Dick Cheney and Creative Track Faculty Head Doug McKinlay. Several former advertising students had the same thought at graduation. These men look even more alike in person.

Why I was an hour late to church today

In an ideal world a magic pigeon would land on my window sill and fly me straight to church on Sundays. (See diagram 1)

Instead, today I got to the subway to find there was no uptown service from my stop. I had to take the C train all the way down to 59th Street in order to catch an A train back uptown. At 59th Street I hopped on an A uptown train. Or at least I thought I did. By the time I woke up from my dozing, I was somewhere in the Bronx. The only logical explanation for this is that the train switched from being an A to a D just for fun. (This actually does happen; trains will switch on a whim if they want to.)

So from Tremont Avenue in the Bronx I had to take another D train down to 145th Street in Manhattan. Finally at 145th Street I caught another A train up to Inwood and made it to the chapel. (See diagram 2)

I seriously love the NYC subway, but days like today make me wish I had a car.

Or a pigeon.

Abbey Road, 2004-2007

Yesterday I left my coveted Abbey Road poster in a bathroom at LaGuardia Airport. It was devastating.

The Beatles and I have been through so much together over the past few years--from apartment to storage unit to apartment again and again and again. I remember the time we had to hold the poster in our hands out a car window because it wouldn't fit inside. I remember retrieving it from the side of the road when it flew away. I remember my poor nephews holding it up over their heads in a van so it wouldn't crush them. And, of course, I remember the thousands of times the foursome greeted me at the bottom of the stairs in The Colony.

Earlier this year I finally got around to stripping the cardboard backing off, peeling off all the tape, and rolling it up so I could take it to New York. So excited was I to hang the masterpiece up in my new Harlem bedroom.

But after making it all the way across the United States my poster has found a new owner. In the time it took me to get a gate pass and make it through an extra round of security it had already been lifted.

To me the event was more tragic than I'd like to admit, but I take comfort in knowing that I have shared the magic of the Beatles with another fan. Maybe this is what John meant when he wrote "Come Together."

The Tiny Little Night Club and the Great Big Condos

Friday night I saw this ad on craigslist:

Being the connoisseur of free things that I am, I knew this opportunity was not to be missed. The next morning I made the trek down to the Lower East Side. I had never been to Tonic before, but as soon as I walked in I could feel of its importance and history--something not unlike the way it felt to walk into the late CBGB. (R.I.P.) Tonic has been a home for artists such as Moby, John Medeski, Regina Spektor, Thurston Moore, and Yoko Ono.

I spent the next hour rummaging with other treasure seekers through the dark wreckage that was once called Subtonic, an underground extension of the venue. Moldy glasses of alcohol sat atop dusty amps. Chairs without legs lay in a pile beside a typewriter that looked as if it had been thrown off the Empire State Building. It was truly an experience to behold. I walked away with a new nightstand, some cool light fixtures, some LED lights, some CDs, and some old music magazines.

While unscrewing one of my finds from the wall, I began to hear the screaching of a saxophone from upstairs, followed by other noises I'm not quite sure how to describe. Then followed the sound of applause. By the time I made it upstairs with all my loot, the club was filling with an interesting assortment of fans, many of whom it was obvious had returned after having partied there the night before.

It became a sort of open mike affair. Artists would share their parting words and perform a song or two. A cellist performed a bizarre number reminicent of the saxophonist's screaching. An older woman sang a haunting farewell piece a capella. A couple played some African xylophones while chanting. It was stunning.

It was then that I learned of the larger story. Tonic is the latest in a string of important clubs that has been closing down in recent months due to skyrocketing rent costs. These venues, each having contributed to giving New York its authenticity and unique culture, can't afford to stay open amidst the many developers building luxury condos. Tonic is a textbook example; a giant glass building just went up on the same block.

I was impressed with the folks at Tonic. I got to chat with the owner and a few enthusiasts of the club. While I had to leave early to get on with my day, many of the people there were planning on staying at the club well into the afternoon as long as police would let them. They even had a box full of protest signs ready.

It's sad when investors cash in on the hard work that artists and residents put in to making neighborhoods safe and desireable. If you take a look at the website for the condos, look at the way they advertise the neighborhood. While other nearby LES venues such as Mercury Lounge and Bowery Ballroom are pictured, Tonic is nowhere to be found. How ironic.

I hope these developers realize that the as they run these artists out of the city they too will one day go out of business. Without artists, New York will cease to be New York.

Tiff Jimber

My high school friend Tiffany played a rockin' show this weekend at the Alphabet Lounge. She only got to play four songs, but they were all very scrumptrulescent. I totally surprised her, too. She had no idea that I was in New York, let alone that I'd be at her show.

After her performance I had my first celebrity sighting since I've been in New York. Common (the socially-conscious rapper gone Gap poster boy) entered the Alphabet Lounge as we were loading Tiff's car. You'll all be pleased to know that I resisted the urge to go up to him and ask, "Do you know who you are?"

Yes, folks, my days of harassing the stars are over. My friend Bryan told me that there is an unspoken law in NYC that you can't go up to a celebrity unless you know them personally. I don't like this law one bit, but after awkward moments with Sufjan Stevens and Sonic Youth's Kim Gordon last summer, I've decided I must comply.