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saw the gambler with emerson last night. awesome, awesome, even if i was so hungry that i was wilting through the first act. if nothing else, lincoln center reminds you that they actually make full-length fur coats for men, and that unwrapping hard candy slowly, rather than quickly, does not reduce the noise of it in the slightest. but the grandmother character's voice, the bassoon solos, and the dark low brass punctuating chords made up for all of this. wanted to, really did, join jami and non-smoking indie rock boy matt at korova milk bar, but the memory of that mid-opera nap won over, so i went home and listened to something about us from the new daft punk album:
it might not be the right time
i might not be the right one
but there's something about us i want to say
because there's something between us anywayi might not be the right one
it might not be the right time
but there's something about us i've got to do
some kind of secret i will share with youi need you more than anything in my life
i want you more than anything in my life
i'll miss you more than anyone in my life
i love you more than anyone in my life
first call of the morning (10am EST):
me: my flight came in at 2am, so i'm running late. how is everything?
client partner: pretty chaotic.
me: sigh. see you in an hour.
second call of the morning (10:35am EST):
emer-emer: wanna go see the prokofiev opera at lincoln center tonight?
me: okay!
you would never know i'm such a classy 'ho from my search logs today:
thank you. thank you very much.
lordy i need to get my ass to bed. thank thank thank you! i had a blast, you two. plus, had sweaty, dirty, hit-yer-head-on-the-headboard-and-not-care sex, looked into a mirror in a voodoo bar bathroom and wiped drogas off my nostrils, beckham's book store, magic bus records & cds, j-no's gumbo, cafe au lait with chicory, stayed out until 6am two nights in a row, got drinks bought for me, saw the new janet jackson, daft punk, and madonna videos, got over a little personal slump, discovered the latest in video game graphic design and soundtracks, and phyllis diller . . . delicious. summer home?
spring fever to recreate things, starting with links, about, later remains, contact, and lots of offline stuff. new url ideas that i jotted down today: deeppenetration.com, icanresistanythingbuttemptation.com, debug.org, debugged.org, debuggery.org, deedub.com, mylifewiththethrillkillkult.com, yomamas.org, cyb.org.
waking up at 11am. three hours on the sun-drenched patio of la marquise with a pecan tart, cafe au lait with chicory, the times picayune, and an inert cell phone. live jazz that is actually authentic. zapp's cajun crawfish potato chips. sitting on the waterfront writing and wishing people whose presence makes so much sense here right now were here. sweetheart hosts. sweetheart hounds. reading my new book (igor stravinsky, poetics of music) and speaking to the minx under a tree in jackson square. jonno introducing me to henri cartier-bresson. a great bookstore introducing me to josé rodó, the motives of proteus.
today was the best day. love vacation!
to those that said nice things, thanks, grazie, gracias, danke. i needed it. the two more uncharacteristic ones are down now ... it just weirded me out. yes, i know i'm a headcase.
happy thing: going to new orleans tomorrow.
sad thing: confirmation emails that list your username and password. don't they know that my bosses read all my email?
there's actually sadder stuff going on, but i hate sorriness.
some of these will be taken down soon, but tonight it's all about propping up the old self-esteem:
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i can't take it, y'all,
i can feel this city breathing
- mos def and talib kweli are black star (featuring common), respiration
another secret entry. if you're on my mailing list you already got it. if not, you know where to reach me.
you go to krash. you wake up the next day with a hangover and a new phone number programmed into your phone (writing them on scraps of paper is so 20th century). in between you drink long island iced teas (which your friend rona used to call "crack juice" and once made you yak all over 39th street, right in front of escuelita), get contact highs from all the pot smoke, and forget all about manhattan attitude as you dance your ass off in queens.
believe in me. i won't crush your beauty, i'll just lick it clean.
- pale 3 featuring skin, "you can't find peace"
it's time to escape from new york, get away from cold, too much work, rude people, sketchy guys, and life here. this weekend i spend here finishing shit up. next weekend i spend in new orleans. weekend after i spend in miami. gotta be quick and easy, so just domestic travel this time. the trips to paris and china are in the wings.
guy ritchie, madonna, pussy, banana nut muffins, and ass: slapmyass.org does it right. this is fucking funny.
i woke up hearing this song, the original by roberta flack. i downloaded it from audiogalaxy as soon as i got to work, and then listened to this song, the remake by d'angelo. i love this song so much, it hurts.
in between then, i looked at art with some friends, running into a fellow obie showing chelsea to his mom. he's back in school, this time at columbia, and we predicted that there was about to be an onslaught of our classmates returning to the student life. it's starting to feel like it's time, but how much of that (in myself, at least) is due to nasdaq and not some urgency to learn?
made my way down 8th avenue to work. could see nunokawa's living room from 16th and 8th, so i rang him up and said hello as i walked him to the laundromat. left on bleecker, passing by claudia's apartment. called her and she had just stepped out, a few blocks down the street from where i was. we walked to houston and mercer together, talking about how our office has taken a turn for the worse, and a lot of our (for her, former) colleagues with it. coded for a good six hours, made plans for tonight with friends (birthday party at wonderbar for brandon, dinner at daily chow with lapo, homocorps at cbgb's with lapo, paulie, and maybe frank, party on ridge street with jami), and, incited by jami, briefly debated buying clothes for myself. all of these run-ins with friends and social outings are good for me right nowi feel all full of pleasantly unfocused love and guarded optimism and the growing drive to leave town (vacation coming up, any ideas, anyone?), plus the sun's finally coming out and sticking around later in the day.
had a rare warm, fuzzy work day today. ended it by clearing out my inbox of secret page requests, got home, went to the gym. afterwards decided to check out the underground film festival, and got there just in time to see fucked in the face. it contained some pretty unbelievable money shots, as well as the following notable lines:
you know you're the only vanilla in my manila! (filipino queen consoling his rice queen boyfriend)
i'm sick of choking on your Chunky-style cum! (protagonist confronting his abusively aloof fuck buddy, rock)
opening short was freaks on the beach, starring east village celebrities bob and dean johnson, my buddy who headlines velvet mafia. he's playing tomorrow, by the way, at cbgb's. come see homocorps and the hottest in east village scuzballery.
just looked at my search logs:
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
YOUR SEARCH STATISTICS
Your Top Searches:
There were 6 searches for the week ending 3/3/2001 for
d a n t e * w o o at https://dantewoo.com/.
Here are the top phrases searched:
- 1 for "baby can you woo woo woo song"
- 1 for "lemonyellow"
- 1 for "pics"
a good friend just launched this site: jeffreywernick.com, an underground site for the sopranos. it's an idea i like a lotso few people have created interesting uses of the web in conjunction with other media, and this one really does it, showing stuff that you can't see or read on the tv show. check it out.
last night, walking down avenue c after dinner and drinks with sarah, i see a volvo parked along the street, and a woman walking with a pottery barn bag in each hand. avenue c. where's that recession, anyway?
hey, some other stuff happened that i wrote about, but i have to keep it hidden. no, it won't change your life, but if you wanna read it, add yourself to my mailing list (i hardly ever send stuff to it, and trust me, nobody would ever buy it) or drop me a line.
if you read this site regularly, you know that i haven't updated in a helluva long time. i backlogged and added some entries, but everything from february 15 on is brand new. things have sped out of control occupationally, socially, emotionally, lately, and the busyness plus the stress, it's held me back. it's hard to talk about how things aren't feeling so good when you're sick of feeling it, and even more sick of talking about it. someday i will look back at this weblog and think, "not enough nookie and some work disillusionment and look, the self pity shines through," but for now let's say this instead: things are looking up and i have a new band to love: coldplay. fuck yeah i'm seeing them at roseland on april 9.
it's 8pm, i got a shitload done this weekend, and now i'm going to max to eat dinner with sarah and catch up. more more more, yes.
