The Twits of Twitter

New York, NY



I promised myself I wouldn't buy into all this Twitter madness. I opened an account a year ago and managed to eek out 4 "tweets" before I lost all interest and realized no one would care about my random exploits in 140 characters or less. I honestly thought no one would care about what anyone ate for breakfast, let alone what I ate for breakfast. (Of course, upon further investigation, I realized this blog was just that.) So with all this Twitter madness of late, I thought I'd give it another shot. I'm making it easy for you, while you could hop over and "follow" me here, you can also see my "Twitter" on the sidebar of this very blog! I'm not sure how long this will last, and it's truly in the experimental phase. So check it out, tell me what you think about me telling you what I think.

The Reading List

New York, NY

Too busy/dumb to read a whole book? Trying to kill time at work? Why not read some of my articles at YesButNoButYes.

• Such as a Kite - What else are you going to do in Amsterdam?
• Commuting Suicide XXXI - Yes, I'm going to Hell.
• The Drug Mule - It isn't illegal to smuggle drugs back into the country, right? Right?
  
• The Deal Breakers - Because a man wants what a man wants.
• An Open Letter to the Restaurant That Gave Me Food Poisoning on Friday Night - Yeah, it was just that bad.
• Commuting Suicide XXVII - I finally figured out the reason why New York always smells like piss.
• Cast Into the Pit of Hades III: Not Above Stealing From a Friend - I use a public forum to rant about things I hate.
• While the Cat's Away... - What would you do if you had free time and keys to your girlfriend's apartment?
• Hobo Decorum - Seriously, can't we all agree that we hate homeless people?
• Expelling Flatus - Sadly, hot chicks fart too.

Celebrating 30 Years on Planet Earth

New York, NY

The worst part about turning 30 years old is once the celebrating is over, you actually have to deal with the fact that you're old. Luckily, the celebrating continued into a second week as Lindsey threw me a dinner and party to remind me that I'm still young at heart. And with friends who came from far (Miami), sort of far (Vermont), and not so far (Connecticut), I hope the party was worth it.

Mitch, having left the wife and kid at home, relived his past days at the Late Show.

Lindsey proving, once again, that she is not 30 ... yet.

Erin happily sent me several e-mails over the past few weeks reminding me that I'm 30 and finished each one with "sucka". She will not be invited to my 31st.

I know 2 of the people in this photo.

The former roomies.

You'd have disdain too if you dressed alike ... unintentionally.

And there you have it. Another year, another celebration. Thanks to everyone who came out. There's a swath of people missing from the photos, something I attribute not to my lack of appreciation but to the photographer. (Lindsey) Thanks again to everyone, especially Lindsey for busting her ass and organizing the whole thing. It really was a fun night!

Waiting

New York, NY

Most projects with Mitch start like this:

"So I was thinking, wouldn't it be cool..."

They end either with me pacing back and forth nervously backstage at Carnegie Hall, or slumped in my chair and hiding my face while watching songs we'd written get chopped up and destroyed in front of a live audience by less-than-stellar vocalists. But sometimes these projects turn out to be rather enjoyable. (In fact all of them are enjoyable, it's just the end products that get marred by outside forces ... like alcoholic theater directors.) Mitch asked me to direct a music video for his song "Waiting" and I jumped at the chance to do it. The process involved scouting locations, setting up shots, me hanging out his SUV while I took video of "regular people" in Harlem going about their business, and story-boarding. We brought our good friend Evan on board as the director of photography, and the three of us edited the shit out of it for three long nights in my apartment.

Evan, Mitch and me at the end of a long night of editing. Why we're in my shower, I can't seem to remember.