All I Have to Say Is...

THANK GOD.

I Wanna Be Elected

Congratulations to Mr. Obama.

Much ado has obviously been made about this Inauguration weekend, from the historical aspects to the ungodly logistical challenge facing the city of Washington (no news to indicate any major failures, though I'll keep an eye on this).

I tried to sit this one out. There was a lot of pressure to participate, but the fact is that I don't like crowds and I don't like the cold (and I don't like tourists....sorry).

Still, I did go to the Manifest Hope: DC art exhibit in Georgetown, where I spotted Maria Shriver. And I also saw Angela Bassett and Danny Glover arriving to the premier of Gospel Hill at the Uptown Theater (along with Tom Bower and Chris Ellis....not stars, but career actors who have worked their butts off over the years). So, I think I had my fun.

Inauguration Day does still remains special to me, though, for a very different reason: Inauguration Day 2001 was the last time I saw my Grandad.

Grandad was starting to fall apart. He still had his wits, and he was only slightly forgetful, if slower for the stress of recent years: He'd stopped taking care of himself after my Grandma died a few years earlier. He wasn't eating, and he'd become rail thin, and clearly very depressed. Things were also beginning to pile up around the house in a way that was troubling.

I'd been visiting him as much as I could, though the trek out to Fairfax made it hard to go more than about twice a month, much as I hate admitting this. (Had they decided to stay in the Porter Street house, I would've been just around the corner, as I was living at Newark and Macomb at the time.....but there's no sense in thinking about all that).

Anyway, my mom had hit her limit, and demanded that she, her sister, and a few of the kids would get together and help him clean up -- do some scrubbing, take out the trash, get rid of the piles of junk mail that Grandad was hording.

Nothing memorable happened that day, excpet that I looked around and realized, prophetically, that if Grandad were to die, we'd be left with one hell of a tesk on our hands in emptying out this house, which had become the dumping station for generations and generations of dead relatives' possessions. So little did I know what the coming year(s) would hold for the family.

I recall my grandfather - a lifelong Democrat - seeming detached and disinterested in W's acention to the throne on that chilly, rainy day.

I remember my mother excitedly demanding that we all drop everything and watch Dunbar's band march in the parade.

I remember being angry that my cousin......the family favorite since childhood.....was not present that day to share his load of the work, because it was more important for he and his then-boyfriend to stand in the rain and protest the new president.

I admit that perhaps I haven't let go of my resentment over that.

To this day, my cousin still mourns his dead grandfather. It's been almost eight years, and still, it comes up every time he gets more than two drinks in him and he wants to reflect on his history of not having his fucking act together.

Perhaps.......just perhaps........if he'd had his priorities straight eight years ago, he might have experienced a little more closure by this point.

I miss you, Grandad. But rest in peace knowing that my grieving ended some time ago. You are at peace, and so am I.

Still, I wish so much that you could have seen this day.

....

My prayers to Mr. Kennedy.

So WIld and Free and Far From Me

Ok, no theme here....just what I've been up to:

- M-83 at the Black Cat were pretty good. Rich, textured, very pretty. I wasn't blown away the same way I was the first time I heard them (sitting in the unbelievably expensive lobby bar at the Tribeca Grand Hotel), but I still have to say that it was enjoyable. Still can't quite believe how fucking young and suburban these crowds are these days, but shit, I'm turning 35 in a week, so I guess I just need to accept that this will be the trend moving forward.

- Photo Week DC has exceeded ALL of my expectations. Every single one of them. Very much enjoyed the three exhibits on M Street (sorry I can't remember the name of the really big host location; it was an excellent venue...Was it Lumas, maybe?); also enjoyed Ken Ashton's work at Vegitate.

Wasn't so crazy about whatever clusterfuck event took place at the Katzen Arts Center at AU (too crowded, overwhelmingly text-heavy, and just generally packed with people), but I do have to say that the third floor exhibits were pretty rad, and that the space in general just might be the best contemporary arts spaces I've ever seen in Washington. Total f-ing gem.

Either way, those prima donnas at Art-O-Matic might want to consult with the Photo Week folks. These people seem to knw how to run an event.

- Dinner at Chef Geoff's last night was good (scallops with mushroom risotto, bowl of won ton soup; the lady had soup and salad), but I'm not sure if it was $100.00 good. I'm pretty sure it would have been a spectacular $50 meal, and a pretty darned good $75 meal. $100 is a tougher sell.

- Cleveland Park finally has their Yogi Berry! Now I can finally stop wondering if I should check out that Mr. Yogato place (is D.C. really so boring that we need names this dumb?).

- WhyIHateDC finally have some new writers, and a few of them seem to have a little common sense. We'll see how long this lasts.

- Skins got it back to gether tonight, thank you Mr. Springs. Good to see us get a little distace on the Eagles, (though I must say that it doesn't feel good to see it end this way for Donovan. Reid mismanaged the heck out of that team this year, and looking back it's hard not to empathize with McNabb over his desire over the offseason for more weapons on the offense.

Whatever....Philly sucks).

Life goes on.

But I'm Outta My Head When You're Not Around

Here we go again....sorry for being a completely shit blogger.
I'm kinda busy these days, and most of my effort (haha....
effort) has been going towards my updating my Flickr account
and working on a different blog, which any straglers should
try and check out if they can.

So, because I didn't bother to do full entries on anything
I've been up to lately, here's a quick-form run-down:

- Caught the Avadon exhibit at the Corchoran.  Goddamn.  It
honestly is just as good as everyone says. I'm just as big on
pimping the free museums in D.C. as the next Washingtonian
apologist is, but when the Corchoran does it right (see:
Modernist exhibit of last year), you don't quite mind
shelling out.

- We have a new President coming to town. I'm happy to have
been here when it happened.

And while I'm at it, I'm happy to throw a little love at Sen.
McCain.  In the past five days it's become all kinds of
fashionable to cite McCain's concession speech as proof of
the man he once was....the Republican that Democrats could
once get behind. I always did maintain that the world would
have been a better place if he had gotten the nod in 2000,
rather than W., but at this point it matters not.  I just
hope that now that this fucking mess is over he can go back
to being the statesman that he once was, before Bush warped
him.

(P.S. President-elect Obama: Don't sleep on nuclear!)

- Went to New Orleans last weekend for Halloween.  My god, do
I loathe Bourbon Street (and a lot of the Quarter), but we
still ate well, drank absinthe, and had a good time.

I believe that my mission in life now is to somehow have the
Rebirth Brass Band commissioned as a national treasure.

- Caught one hell of a show by the Magnetic Fields at Lisner
a few weekends ago. Although the place was packed with just
as many NPR nerds as I was fearing, the fact was that it was
a great big fun show.  The sound was phenomenal; you
immediately appreciated how pure each of the three vocalists
is, and no aspect of the instrumentation suffered at the
expense of another. And while Claudia Gonson's ultra-dry
intellectual wit is a huge turn-off to me personally (why do
smart girls always insist on stripping the cute out of absolutely
everything?), I could listen to Stephin Merrit complain all night
long. With no sarcasm intended whatsoever, that dude is one
charming curmudgeon. "Papa Was a Rodeo" was almost too
beautiful that night.  Seriously. As was a very stripped down
version of "No One Will Ever Love You." Best show of the year.

- Not best show: John Powers at the Red & the Black.  Listen, it's
not like I don't love stupid silly schtick. I love metal.  I love
garage.  Schtick is fine by me.  But schtick without effort is just
a waste of everyone's time.  I fucking hate it when performers
won't go all in on a schtick.  Near as I can tell, John Powers is
basically just goofing off enough to maybe get some trim, but not
hard enough to convince anyone to come to more than one show.

HOWEVER, Low Red Land kind of won me over, despite the 5 string bass
and a drummer with a tendency to overplay a little. Loved the dual
shouting, and I got the feeling that the lyrics had some substance to
them.  Most impressive was the encore/acoustic mini-set at the front
of the stage, which most of the fucking drunks missed out on. Awesome,
awesome way to end the set; shame no one but a handful of us actually
saw it, but in a way, that made it better.

- I missed DMBQ when they came to the Velvet, but I saw them before.

- Caught the Dandy Warhols at the 930 Club - Not their best performance.
I happened to catch them on the "13 Tales" tour, and this performance
underwhelmed me by comparison.  Part of this was due to some half-assed
performance, but more than anything, it was the coked up Asian chicks
chatting their asses off at full volume next to us, and the fat, old
girls doing the sexy-dance all night long and making weird,
uncomfortable, prolonged eye contact with every guy in near proximity
(including yours truly).  Nice way to totally, completely, absolutely
ruin "Godless".

- WhyIHateDC died and then came back.  Hahahaha.....it's so much easier
for transplants to hate on DC than it is to make a consistent argument
for why they hate it.  Pussies. (Although, as much as it pains me to
say it, the content is markedly improved these days....big time)

- Finally hit up Palena.  Holy shit, that was expensive.  And fucking
good.

Ok, I'll post again in like three months.

I May Leave This Town Tomorrow

BUT PHILLY STILL SUCKS!

Ben, the two of us need look no more

Dear Ali Family,

I was so very happy to hear that you'd be getting a few stalls at National's Stadium. Honestly, it would have been wrong not to have you there. And I won't gripe about paying extra....it's still a bargain for the wonderfulness that is a chili half smoke.

Well, all of that said, someone needs to tell you this:

One of your stalls is selling big-ass beef dogs and calling them half smokes. They came out of a tin, rather than off the grill, and their was no friggin pork in them. Trust me, I've lived in D.C. for the past ten years, and I've got hypertension at the tender young age of 34. With those creds, I think that I know what's a half smoke and what isn't.

Someone also needs to ask the following question: When the hell did half smokes start coming with shredded cheese? Please tell me that you did this to appease those bastard Phillies fans who so love our park.

Seriously....what's going on over at Barracks Row?

It's a long, long journey to the Capitol City

Anyone who has spent more than a few nights at the Black Cat
knows Black Cat Bill.

I guess I should re-state that.  Up until about a year or so ago,
anyone who had spent more than a few nights at the Black Cat
knows Black Cat Bill.

Whether you know his name or not, Bill has been a fixture on
14th Street for……Jesus, I've been hanging out there for 10 years
or more, and I'm almost certain he was there the first time I
stepped foot in the old Black Cat back in '98 or so.

Warm, good natured and always friendly, Bill is a homeless man
who has been best known for greeting Black Cat patrons with the
infamously charming baritone cheer of "Black Cat Black Cat!!! A
little spare chaaaaaaange for the homeless."

Half carnival barker and half goodwill ambassador to 14th Street
hipsters, Bill has always been friendly, and he's always been a
charmer.  And he's always been grateful for whatever people could
spare. In the heat of the summer or the dead of winter, Bill has
always been a gentleman, even when the elements have been
less friendly.

Over the years, I've had countless encounters with Bill, and they've
always – ALWAYS - been pleasant.

One night I stopped to ask him how he'd been, and he gave me his
standard answer:

"I'm doing ok for an old guy...."  Then he added a twist that was new
to me.  "But as long as I keep watching you young folks, I get a little
energy."

And he smiled.

Another night I slipped him a buck and asked him how his night was.

"It would be a lot better if everyone was as generous as you are," he
shot, with a raised eyebrow and a little grin.

There was the night in late August of 2005, when I passed his regular
spot on the sidewalk.

"You doing ok these days?" I asked.

"Well, I'm doing ok," he responded. "I know I'm doing a lot better
than all those people in New Orleans."

I fumbled for something to say, but I just couldn't top that.

Then there was another evening that's always stuck with me - the
night that he offered a kind word to a tearful, inebriated young
woman who had stomped out of the club in a huff.  For his efforts,
the girl spat back at him that she didn't need his advice, and that
"…at least I'M not homeless! I have a JOB!"

There was silence on the sidewalk for half a beat, while I made
sure I heard her correctly.

"I know you're not homeless," he said in an even tone.  "And I'm
HAPPY for you that you aren't."

I was speechless.

I've never really been able to understand how someone so hard on
his luck could remain so friendly, and so optimistic, and so dignified.
When that girl dared to insult him in such a hateful, ugly manner,
there was a split second when the ONLY thing I wanted to do was to
chase that drunken little shit into the street and give her the shaking
of a lifetime.  But after watching Bill take the high road, I felt like it
would be a diminishment not to do the same (so I went inside the club
to tell the staff.  Maybe it did some good, maybe not).

I was so impressed with him nonetheless.  I wanted so badly to
defend him, but I guess at his age, Bill didn't need protection from
spoiled little drunk girls.

Sometimes Bill disappears for weeks and even months.  And every
time he does, I get a little worried.  Anything can happen to an aging
homeless guy – even one that everyone seems to like.

Last weekend I passed Bill for the first time in several months….perhaps
its been a year, but who knows?  I travel for work a lot and I don't go
out as much as I used to…

Bill looks bad.  He's lost at least 60 pounds…..maybe more like 80 or 90.
He looked tired, and for the very first time in the 10 years I've seen him
around, he sounded sorry for himself.

Heart disease, high blood pressure and gangrene in his feet were among
the litany of ailments he ran past me.  He just seemed depressed and sad,
and I guess I wasn't really prepared for that.

I gave him a few bucks and some words of encouragement, offering him my
hand.  He gave me a shake, looked me in the eye, and then then draped his
other hand over mine. It was an intimate gesture, and one I wasn't really
expecting.  The moment seemed to last a very long time.

I don't think Bill is ok.

If you see him, try to spare a moment to say hello.  And if you pray, how
about sparing one of those for him as well?

And maybe...just maybe, this time you could part with a little spare change
to the homeless.