New York State of Mind
OK, you all are probably sick of my gushing (don't worry, I'll bring back the snarky vibe soon enough), but I am seriously loving New York. On the food front, it's roast chicken at Flor de Mayo (83rd & Amsterdam) and sushi at Uki (92nd & Amsterdam). Went to the Green Market this morn for fresh fruit juices. It's amazing how much of a street life there is here. In Vancouver, almost nothing happens on the street. No outdoor food stalls, no magazine stands, no vendors, no people kicking it on the corner.
Hit the Leela James show the other night at SOBs. Real special performance. Her album, A Change is Gonna Come, has just dropped and apparently she's been on the industry hell-ride for years trying to get it out. She closed her set (which was long, good, and so funky) with the title track. At the end of the song, she started weeping. I've never seen anyone cry on stage before and I have to say that it was very moving. Coupled with the warm, friendly vibe in the room and the dope-ass music, I felt, well, honored to be there. (See? Gush, gush, gush.)
Afterward, went to Joe's Pub to see the RZA with all the Room Service folks. Finally got to meet Wes Jackson, whose blog I have been reading for a minute now.
We all got tired of standing around on the street next to the gigantic garbage heap and waiting, so we gave up on getting in and went out for greasy food instead. On the table for discussion...hipster chic (you know, the skinny dudes with shaggy hair that wear women's jeans), Brad Pitt (sexy or not sexy?), Canadian politics, and how dudes holler all over the world. I have a few things to say about that.
The fellas are gonna have to excuse me for a minute, cause I am going to get a little Carrie Bradshaw here. One of the things that I notice when I am in New York is that dudes talk to you a lot. In Canada, guys give you the once-over, but it's kind of a cold process. No grins, no conversation, no idea what the man is thinking (is there something on my butt? why is he staring at me anyway?). In Thailand, guys make eye contact and smile, but don't approach. In Japan, guys are very shy, but they grab your ass in the club on the sly. And in New York, guys step up and speak, which I much prefer. Obviously I'm not feeling the really pushy ones, but it's nice to have a chat here and there, and not have to try and decipher all the coded body language and figure out if someone is actually hollering.
I was joking with one of my girlfriends in Canada that I don't even need her here to tell me if my outfit looks OK. Cause NYC has what I call a built in Ma-Meter. If you look right, you get the "Hey Ma."
Alright, alright. Back to hip-hop.
Hit the Leela James show the other night at SOBs. Real special performance. Her album, A Change is Gonna Come, has just dropped and apparently she's been on the industry hell-ride for years trying to get it out. She closed her set (which was long, good, and so funky) with the title track. At the end of the song, she started weeping. I've never seen anyone cry on stage before and I have to say that it was very moving. Coupled with the warm, friendly vibe in the room and the dope-ass music, I felt, well, honored to be there. (See? Gush, gush, gush.)
Afterward, went to Joe's Pub to see the RZA with all the Room Service folks. Finally got to meet Wes Jackson, whose blog I have been reading for a minute now.
We all got tired of standing around on the street next to the gigantic garbage heap and waiting, so we gave up on getting in and went out for greasy food instead. On the table for discussion...hipster chic (you know, the skinny dudes with shaggy hair that wear women's jeans), Brad Pitt (sexy or not sexy?), Canadian politics, and how dudes holler all over the world. I have a few things to say about that.
The fellas are gonna have to excuse me for a minute, cause I am going to get a little Carrie Bradshaw here. One of the things that I notice when I am in New York is that dudes talk to you a lot. In Canada, guys give you the once-over, but it's kind of a cold process. No grins, no conversation, no idea what the man is thinking (is there something on my butt? why is he staring at me anyway?). In Thailand, guys make eye contact and smile, but don't approach. In Japan, guys are very shy, but they grab your ass in the club on the sly. And in New York, guys step up and speak, which I much prefer. Obviously I'm not feeling the really pushy ones, but it's nice to have a chat here and there, and not have to try and decipher all the coded body language and figure out if someone is actually hollering.
I was joking with one of my girlfriends in Canada that I don't even need her here to tell me if my outfit looks OK. Cause NYC has what I call a built in Ma-Meter. If you look right, you get the "Hey Ma."
Alright, alright. Back to hip-hop.
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