A Few Recent Pieces

I've been writing about The City for The Moment, the New York Times "blog that spans the T Magazine Universe"

I also wrote about Michelle Obama's fashion at the inauguration though that is old news now.

I filled in on Gawker for a weekend. Stressful. Fun

I profiled Sandra Lee and Andy Samberg for March's OUT magazine

I'm finishing up the 3rd edition of StyleCity's guide to New York City

I'm actively looking for freelance gigs! Send 'em my way.

I'm also actively looking for a couch.

Fuck, Marry, Kill: Oscar/Top Chef Edition

I'd go with effing Padma, marrying Kate and k'ing Blanchett, if only because of that unforgivable modern dance in the gazebo scene in Benjamin Button. You?

Australia Australia Australia We Love Your Men

The only two worthwhile things Australia ever gave us are Cory Delaney and this swarthy pigeon smuggler. According to the BBC,

Australian customs officials say [two] live birds were wrapped in padded envelopes and held to the man's legs by a pair of tights under his trousers. Officials also found two eggs in a vitamin container in the man's luggage. Australia has strict quarantine rules on the importation of wildlife, plants and food. The man, 23, could face up to 10 years in jail...Customs officials say they also seized seeds in the man's money belt and an undeclared aubergine, following the flight on Sunday.

As for the rest of that continent's contributions: drunk fat girls on the Tube, condiments that taste like shit and Mel Gibson.

Signs of the End of Times

We can no longer spell. That Playstation ad on Houston and Lafayette is gone. Illy files its "pumpkin latte" drink, already a desecration, under "Reach and Creamy." Soup kitchens--that is kitchens in which soup is made--have lines out the door. And The New Museum, once a sign of a resurgent Bowery with Ugo Rondinone's rainbow sign acting as a beacon of good things to come, has forebodingly changed its message. "Hell ye! Hell ye! The end is nigh!"

Leo Rosten: Insufferable.

Last week I picked up a used copy of Leo Rosten's People I Have Loved, Known or Admired from the one dollar racks in front of the Strand. Yippee, I thought. I had liked The Joys of Yiddish when I found it in my grandparent's basement in Kokomo, IN. So clever, so vibrant, so Jewy. But as I started reading Rosten's book, I realized this guy is truly terrible. All the corny jokes, the volubility, the wisecracking that is lovable when my grandfather does not age well. Read years later, it comes across as bad, undisciplined, try-y writing. One opening paragraph in particular is intolerable.

I've known Wilbur since he was knee high to a romalea microptera--and the fact that I write "Romalea microptera" instead of grasshopper shows you the peculiar influence he (Wilbur, not the grasshopper) has had on my life.

It's like someone is doing that sharp-shooter motion and clicking their tongue after every sentence. Oy!

More Wenn Poetry

• The Hanson Brothers end their barefoot walk bringing attention to the poverty and AIDS crises in Africa, San Diego, California 16.11.08


• Ted Danson seen buying groceries at Whole Foods in Brentwood, Los Angeles-16.11.08


• Lindsay Lohan leaving her hotel carrying a can of CokeLondon, England - 16.11.08


• Actor Arnold Vosloo taking his pit bull terrier for a walk. Santa Monica, California 15.11.08


• Amy Winehouse steps out of her house and approaches a taxi, but then apaprently changes her mind. London, England--16.11.08


• Victoria Beckham shops at Saks Fifth Avenue with her son Cruz Beckham, who is dressed in a Robin costume
  Los Angeles, California - 14.11.08


• Yanni, the famous pianist, out jogging in Acapulco before performing a string of concerts in the Mexican city
  Acapulco, Mexico - 13.11.08

I Saw The Death of Print On Broadway

Though I'm not one to read too much into happenstance omens, oh man, I passed this on Broadway the other day. A puddle of wet magazines discarded among the autumn leaves and dog shit. The crow flies! We're all doomed! What does this inauspicious muddle of magazines tell us? Who is the first to go? Well, judging from this pile, W Magazine is on the way out. Ditto GOOD although we all knew that. And, of course, PRINT is a goner. Deadsville.

On Offering from Wenn.

This is evidently some of the things the public would like to see pictures of. A collection of captions from Wenn, a photowire service used by newspapers and magazines.

• Paul O'Grady signs copies of his new book 'Paul O'Grady: At my mothers knee..and other low joints' at Foyles book store


• Joaquin Cortes attends a judgement on the paternity of his former personal assistant Katie Asumu's son.


• Mickey Rourke goes for an evening stroll along the Via Condotti with his dog Loki


• Judd Nelson leaving the Chateau Marmont hotel, unrecognizable wearing round rimmed glasses and sporting a beard


• Omarosa signs copies of her book 'The Bitch Switch: Knowing How to Turn It On and Off'


• Tila Tequila hosts the grand opening of 'Tacos and Tequlias'


• Janice Dickinson looking very happy as she leaves a pharmacy


• Anika Noni Rose from 'Dreamgirls' and her son visit a bank


• A very tired looking Lily Allen arrives home, talking on her mobile phone


• Paris Hilton arrives back at her hotel, and poses for pictures in a red dress


• Reese Witherspoon getting back to her car after leaving a children's book store. She seems to have fallen over and badly grazed her right knee


• Celebrities out and about on Robertson Boulevard


• Kelly Brook walks arm-in-arm with her boyfriend Danny Cipriani, holding a pot of Creme De La Mer face cream


• Katie Price aka Jordan leaving Movida nightclub appearing rather worse for wear, and carrying a model of the Eiffel Tower


• Shawn 'Jay-Z' Carter celebrates Sean 'Diddy' Combs' appearance on the 'Black on Black L'Uomo Vogue' cover at 1 Oak


• Elbow performing at Liverpool University


• Christina Ricci out and about in Beverly Hills


• Eva Mendes leaving her gym in West Hollywood


• Rapper T.I. went shopping at Niketown today with friends and a documentary film crew while under house arrest


• Charlie Sheen and his wife Brooke Mueller are expecting twins, her mother has confirmed


• 'Dancing With The Stars' professional dancer Karina Smirnoff is embarrassed after a magazine article about her and fellow dancer Maksim Chmerkovskiy is read out by her stylist, Ricardo Lauritzen of B2V salon


• Carrie Underwood has her waxwork figure unveiled at Madame Tussauds in Times Square


• Rachael Ray shopping at Curve on Robertson Boulevard

BEST HED/LEDE I'VE READ IN A WHILE

[NYT]

Two Condoms and A Novel

Found on the street, just south of Delancey by the base of the Williamsburg Bridge: Two Magnum condom wrappers, some lube and a copy of the Stranger. Better than a Joseph Cornell box!

El Bulli's Genius Bully Ferran Adria Destroys Times

The crowd that filtered in to the Times Center which, Lord Almighty is like some sort of spacious temple, was giddy with anticipation to see Ferran Adria, chef of El Bulli, TV personality and chef Anthony Bourdain and interlocutor Eric Asimov. They queued for an hour or more. One woman did the entire Saturday crossword puzzle, in pen, in an hour.

Once inside the auditorium, four chairs sat on the stage. "Oh my god," said the woman next to me, "who is the fourth chair for?" Red Red Wine played over the speaker. "Oh my god," said the woman next to me, "this is my ring tone." She was here to see Eric Asimov, the wine guy from the Times. "I hear he is the grandson of Isaac Asimov. Someone who knew him personally told me." He's not. He's his nephew. Drew Neirporent sat in the second row. Behind me some cute asian girl kept on looking at me like she thought I had dirty hair, which is accurate.

Soon enough Mr. Asimov sauntered on stage with a strange and compelling strut. He was followed by a very tall Bourdain and a very bull-like Adria. The fourth chair was for the translator, a very very cute Spaniard. Though Adria speaks English, he prefers Spanish. Vale! Adria was clearly the star. Bourdain was his back up. Eric Asimov said a total of about three things, none of them relevant and all of them ignored. He would ask a question and even before it was translated to Adria, the chef would be answering. His reply rarely had anything to do with Asimov's query but were consistently enlightening. He was simply reading his manifesto, interrupted occasionally by a question and pausing momentarily to allow Bouraain to interject. What really stuck with me is Ferria's insistence that he was creating a new language, a language spoken by avant garde cuisiniers around the world. With this new language he was engaging his diners in conversation. "Cuisine is a dialogue" he said on numerous occasions.

Bourdain manned up to approaching El Bulli with a hostile attitude. But after he ate there---he was the first person to actually eat with Adria---he said. it was like "Eric Clapton seeing Jimi Hendrix play." That makes Bourdain Clapton to Adria's Hendrix which is, well, a tad overly self-regarding but he said it with a smile. He then called his meal, "the most important meal on the planet." Asimov did ask one good question for which Adria's non-answer is germane. "There's not going to be an El Bulli in Las Vegas?" he asked. Adria replied, "El Bulli has become a monster. It's impossible to tame." Which is, what, a yes or just another moment of disregard?

Other tidbits: The are 70 people who work at El Bulli for 50 diners. Adria supervises their staff meal every day. The meal he's most excited for in New York? Katz's Delicatessen.

Joseph Stalin Dictator Special No Choice

For lunch yesterday I found myself in the culinary chamberpot of Midtown Manhattan. Thankfully Zach Brooks at Midtown Lunch offers a handy map of carts/delis worth their salt. Instead of getting an overpriced wilted salad from Digby's, I gamboled over to Hallo Berlin!, a German soul food cart on 54th and 5th Avenue.

Now I'm not one for ironic Stalin nostalgia (especially after reading the Gulag Archipelago...ok, ok, I'm only on Volume One which is DEPRESSING) but how could you say nyet to a special called the "Joseph Stalin Dictator Special No Choice" when it contains one Berliner Knockfrank, one Bratwurst, topped with German fries, Red & White cabbage, satueed Onion and Small Soup all for $8.00? Quite simply, you can't. Next to that the Angela Merkel Democracy Special, which comes with free choice of any two wurst and a bonus Bavarian Meatball, pales in comparison. No soup! Cabage? No good.

They Came For Israel For Vesuvio

Sad Soho bakery Vesuvio has been closed due to oven trouble according to a note in the window. For the tourists who flock, somewhat annoyingly, to the area, this is a tragedy. Israelis, Indians and Sicilians have been writing well-wishing notes. It's like the Wailing Wall. Except for one fuck who wrote, "More lies." Actually, upon reflection, that's exactly what I'd stick in the Wailing Wall too.

I Heart Joshua Stein

It took me 27 years to find this joke.

We (wifey and me) just got back from our mini-honeymoon (a night at the Bowery, a night at the Greenwich Hotel). Walking home from Tribeca on Collister Street, one of those great Tribeca alleys, we found this graffiti. Somewhat disappointingly there's a website called Rodstuartlovesthehamptons and the whole thing seems rather engineered. It's safe to say there's no website behind this piece of street prophesy:

From Gay Talese's 1961 book New york: A Serendipiter's Journey:

At 7 a.m. a floridly robust little man, looking very Parisien in a blue beret and turtle-necked sweater, moves in a hurried step along Park Avenue visiting his wealthy lady friends--making certain that each is given a brisk, before-brekfast rubdown. The uniformed doormen greet him warmly and call him either "Biz" or "Mac"
because he is Biz Mackey, a ladies' masseur extraordinaire.

Mr. Mackey is spry and straight-spined, and always carries a black leather grip containing liniments, creams and the towels of his trade. Up the elevator he goes; then, half an hour later, he is down again, and off to another lady--an opera singer, a movie actress, a lady police lieutenant.

Biz Mackey, a former featherweight prizefighter, started rubbing women the right way in Paris, in the twenties. He lost a fight during a European tour and decided he'd had enough. A friend suggested he go to school for masseurs and six months later he had his first customer--Claire Luce, the actress then starring in the Folies-Bergere.

DuMont Disaster

After a rainstorm. Dumont. 7:30. Dinner Rush. Packed. Back and Front. In and Out. In a moment, smoke. Kitchen. Fire? No. Exhaust stopped working. Diners flee to garden like bees smoked from hive. No more burgers. Anger. Disgruntled diners. New waitress. We order Strip Steak. She writes Skirt. We get Hanger. "They're the same thing in my mind," she says. Not true. Steaks on the house. Nice.

A birthday group from the outer boroughs, smoking, in front. Outside. Unhappy. "She doesn't want cake this year. She wants a fry volcano," says a fat girl smoking Parliaments. "We gotta get some fries and make them into a cone and put ketchup on them." Another guy in the party, "But these fries are mad expensive. Where's the closest McDonald's?" The Parliament girl, "We can use [Dumont's] plates. What the fuck are they gonna say? You can't use our plate?" They look at each other. "We should have gone to Falafel Chula."

[Photo: Sarah Is Me]

A Big Announcement.

Dear Friends,

I'm getting married. That's me in the World War I Italian Infantry uniform, holding a rose. The woman behind me in traditional housewife garb is my fiancée. Her name is Ana Mascarenhas Heeren. I met her the first day I ever came to New York back in 1999. That's long enough to know she is brilliant, beautiful and Brazilian. Also that I love her and will forever. Nuptials are set soon (August 29) at City Hall for families. At some point after that, we'll have a much larger raucous celebration.

JDS

Sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehit, Lion!

Clay Davis is alive and well and living as a ballsy Mexican lady who isn't afraid of lions. [NYT]