Thursday, June 19, 2003

NUMBER OF DAYS SINCE SMOKING A CIGARETTE: 0

I actually bought a pack of Parliaments last night after a particularly stressful early close at work. Anyway, just wanted to post something, anything, to demonstrate that I'm still alive and kicking. To my faithful, sorry I've been so sluggish in writing; things have just been cray-zee lately, and I've been doing a lot of non-blog writing, so I have little time for the actual blog. But I promise to post an extensive item in the next few days filling you all in. Until then...

Sunday, June 08, 2003

NUMBER OF DAYS SINCE SMOKING A CIGARETTE: 1

Number of days since updating this blog...way longer. I know, I've been terrible about writing, but I've been really busy lately (yeah, yeah), not to mention the fact that writing about myself is increasingly becoming a bore. I come home from work at maybe 8 or 9 at night, turn on the tube to watch For Love or Money, or America's Next Top Model, or Fame (all of which I watched last week), and then just as soon as I think to blog I think why bother?

Anyway, I went to the soft opening of the new club Plaid, formerly Spa, last night, at which the band Interpol played. The space is radically reworked, so much so that I couldn't decipher the outline of Spa (not that I'd been there in at least two years, and then only once or twice), and it was packed to the brim with major scenesters of all stripes, including several colleagues of mine (whom I went with) and my boy G-spot, who I ran into unsurprisingly (he's basically my coolest friend). I might never have seen so fully dense and extensive a scene in all my three years in New York. And the best thing is we got in for free, received comp drinks, and, due to publicist confusion, even sat in the best banquette in the house for a time, directly overlooking the stage, until said publicist unglamorously ejected us. Oh, and Interpol? They were amazing, despite my being shoved up against the mixer booth all the way in the back and barely being able to glimpse lead singer Paul Banks' head through the snooty crowd. When we left at 2, there was a throng of "regular" folk penned up outside, asking us if it was worth 20 bucks (!) to get in. I said no.

Earlier I spent the day hanging out with Best Friend, who was in town the last week visiting her fam and attending the New Fest, in which she was screening a short film. We went to brunch at the Pink Pony, then to a few screenings, where we met up with T. and S. (whom I hadn't seen in ages--not since my birthday, in fact, back in February). Afterwards we all went to dinner at Moustache where, two languorous hours later, I left them reading the dried patterns of coffee grinds leftover in their cups, the way the Lebanese tend to do.