Author: Sean

So last night I went to a friend of a friend’s photo exhibition at the Tribeca Film Center. That’s the production company founded by Robert DeNiro as a hobby. The art was good, the free Sam Adams and cheese crackers were better. FYI, the new Sam Adams light is actually very good. Tribeca is exactly like the rest of New York, industrial and brick, except it is immaculately clean and fitted out with designer light fixtures. The Center had a shelf of books on one wall and four of us conspired to borrow “Internet for Dummies”. I wanted it to sit on my desk as a quiet joke and to have it to hand to people who annoy me at work.

Hudson River Park Day. The team was able to withstand the heat to make a strong showing. Frisby and magazine reading. I think this park has replaced Sheep Meadow as a place to chill. You get a nice breeze and the view is awsome. Plus, I love boats. And did I mention outdoor billliards. Billiards! From left, Erik, Kevin, Joy, Sean, Ben, Mary

From the archive, here’s a really scary shot of me with murderer burns.

My friend Kevin got to the park at 3:45PM yesterday to stake us out some prime real-estate for music enjoyment. On top of that, he brought blankets, fruit, crackers and cheese, and lots of wine. He even had some pretty girls flown in from the Carolinas to complete the scene. All this made for a perfect evening of lying back, watching the clouds and planes, and listening to the symphony. About 200,000 New Yorkers were in the park and believe it or not, they shut up for once. It’s a good feeling to lie down with 200,000 quiet happy people. The red wine helps.

One note on classical music, it rocks. They opened with the William Tell Overture and I was surprised to hear the Lone Ranger Theme kick so much ass. It was also nice to have a perfect New York evening to remind myself why I willingly live in a closet. Not satisfied with such a good night, I ended up in a karaoke bar on St. Marks, helping to belt out “Rocket Man”. Life is weird, but really, really good.

Aaron and I trying to cover the open men. The Soho Athletics met with a bitter defeat Monday. The pitch was over 100 degrees and it lies in the middle of the fish markets of Chinatown. We had no substitutes so we were forced to play the entire 45 minutes. Also, the other team was much better than us, but I know we will improve. I wear #10 in honor of Kordell Stewart. Everyday I pray for football season.

My beloved Aunt Carole and her new house. This is where I’m moving to when I get sick of living in a closet.

PS We lost last night.

I left my camera at a friend’s place the other night so I am with out a pic of the day. Maybe I can sneak in a thousand words before I have to do some work. I haven’t had coffee yet so this will mostly be stream of consciousness. I’m working at home this morning waiting for a new mattress to be delivered. I don’t know what it is like on other towns, but here things can only be scheduled for deliver in four hour windows. If you were in a job that was not as flexible as mine, I don’t know what you would do. Maybe a doorman or a wife would help. I have this nightmarish fear that if I duck out for a paper or coffee, the deliverymen will come and go. Wait! They’re here!

I have a new mattress. Wooo-whoo! I slept the last two nights on the floor, so I am very happy to have it. Now that it’s here I can go to work, so I can’t write about my weekend. I can’t report on the charter boat fluke fishing Susan and I did on Saturday morning, courtesy of USA Weekend. I can’t tell about how I did sound and video work for a five hour electronic/hip hop shop on Saturday night. I can’t describe all the furniture I bought yesterday or ask for help on the remaining clues of the crossword. I can’t tell you about watching The Royal Tannenbaums with Colleen and Judy. Basically my weekend will have to remain a mystery, unless you email or call.

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Since writing that, I have been sent this photo:
The rescued Pennsylvania miners, fresh from the shaft.

Not everyone is a morning person.

Here’s the real shot that I had to recreate from memory the other day. This was at a bar in Park Slope that had a guitar and washboard duet playing that night. Ashamedly, I like the washboard music.

If Leadbelly asked me where I slept last night, I could say. “On the ground.” Someday we’ll look back on the Great Loft Debacle of the Year Ought Two and laugh. I want to ask forgiveness of the folks that helped carry and assemble it and to any brave young souls who climbed into it.

The book on the bed is Dostoyevsky’s “The Gambler” which I personally found a little dry.