Here we go I was away, I've got got to do. Here I am.
To the lighthouse 
the end is that faith and we decided to remove from the metropolis to the north got shit more possible in the Hudson Valley. In my days of hard work, constantly browsing I found a wonderful bed & breakfast in a lighthouse in Saugerties, near Woodstock, the place is the name of the festival in 1969 that is not taking them (do not ask why `). The only day available was 2 on Thursday, the day of the new snow bastard. The lighthouse, in any event, on the right.
And so, after two and a half hours by bus in the snow and heeling half hour of taxi driver obese makes me knees in a millimeter crack, we reach the lighthouse. The delay means that the bus arrived at high tide, so we have to walk slowly on the Esopus River, hoping they will not give the ice crunching under our weight ... We get soaked and frozen to the lighthouse where the keeper Patrick is waiting for us with hot tea (I love Patrick). Given the adverse weather conditions, we holed up in the lighthouse, where I devoted myself to reading the local newspapers. The first page of Ulster News is devoted to three boys Saugerties who founded a league of wrestling every weekend and pretend menarsi for an audience of 4-5 children, with no ring, won with a plastic toy belt WWF. The names of art are simply Fantastic Demented Vincent, Max Delirium and Damien (my favorite). Look at them and laugh forever (left).
The Belle & Sebastian are on my dick (both) we start Friday, with regret, of Saugerties, where the sun is shining but the wind kills. We should come to New York to 16.30, well ahead of the meeting with Belle & Sebastian for autographs and mini-concert, set for 18 at the Virgin Union Square. And yet. The bus leaves late and the traffic goes crazy. Rush hour on Friday. The years to get to Port Authority, where the criterion `we the front nose. Centuries, before it reaches the 1, after passing the 2, 3, 3, 2 and 3. Arrival at the 18 Hudson Street, I take my The Life Pursuit digipack with DVD and a mega-book full of crap, $ 15 on sale at the President's Day, and step into the Virgin Isolée to arrive at 18:32 and see the van of Belle & Sebastian that puts the arrow on the left and dips in traffic forever. In my ranking of the most favorite of all groups at number 1 are stable the Baby Shakes, the second lowest in the fall Belle & Sebastian. Madonna is the top (but if the game).
Emancipation of a Neanderthal: Kid Congo (ah, Coope, do not read) the evening on Tonic, we give a precise goal: the errata to the my last post. The Tonic is the place with the most famous sperimentaloide in musical choices from around the Lower East Side, the decor is sparse, peeling walls and some small light up the scene. On the eve of the final of the Festival is dedicated to Kid Congo (Cramps, Gun Club, Bad Seeds, MTV's Wa-Wa and other), which features not one but two albums. A thousand bands play a couple of pieces, with opening (or at least are the first that I see) entrusted to Botany, which seem quite interesting and lively ... I'll try 'stuff.
Then is the turn of the Size Queens, which are a bit 'shit but they have the legendary Bob Bert on drums, founder of Sonic Youth with tons of meat and hair dye accumulated in the years. I take this opportunity for me to autograph his shirt vintage Sonic Youth, the one that already autograph `Kim in his own way (is not true, but James can understand ... other than pass). `Vecchiazzano enabled once a tirade and drunk onstage with Kid Congo and a couple of assholes: Julee Cruise is, that the soundtrack of Twin Peaks, who sings the soundtrack of Twin Peaks (with an effort of imagination) and another piece. Ethereal, up to concerns. I think of Bob and Laura's cousin who speaks to the contrary with the nano. Good times those. In the right picture, a vacuum cleaner.
enabled once the beginning of the feast bruttisimo Kid Congo Powers (left side ... add long hair), with a reunion of the Congo Norvell (with Jim Sclavunos, sometimes Sonic Youth, Teenage Jesus & The Jerks, Bad Seeds, Lydia Lunch, Dentrolarmadio and others), in which the simian festive singing and yells, already drunk (you see me? Shimmering.) The pieces are not bad, typical post-No Wave mid 80s, funny and noisy in the right place. Change of scenery, as it is for the current group of celebrated, the Kid Congo and the Pink Monkey Birds, with special guest Thalia Zedek (Live Skull, Uzi, Skarsi). All in all, not so great '. But by then the true goal of the evening was already achieved.
Corrigenda to the previous post undisturbed in a corner, surrounded by half a cocktail, put on its 33 rounds of 70s and 80s disco music a character in half between Ian Brown and Michi of Super-Ok!, which is around furtively among the people at the concerts, looking drunk. Approach him to ask him about his book and when he realizes what I'm talking (after giving me directions to the library around the corner), is strengthened and presenting me a hug. Toothless, with breath mumbles embarrassing that his book should be out in a month or two. At that point, complete my mission and overcome the embarrassment for the figure of nerd. But I promised, at least to myself. So, I get the left-hander Ian suffered a manuscript drunk. `That'll bring to the proper authorities. To all of you a preview:
Rockaway Beach / Winter sea mashup 
And last Sunday, a little 'for the curiosity to see the place immortalized by Raomnz, a little' why is the sea in winter is cool, we go up in Rockaway Beach, Long Island. The sun is shining and try to warm up but the wind eventually got the better ... The beach is enormous, a vast expanse of broken shells and dog shit, some old and we are awaiting death. Lunch Pizzas by Cyrus, who unexpectedly is managed by a real Ciro di Napoli. How many are there? Lobanovsky process? rockaway is an Irish enclave, and every window reminds me that soon will arrive is the St. Patrick's Day ... yum yum.
On the way back we stop in Brooklyn Heights, the place where I had the opportunity to meet Cesare Cremonini and his Dance Band, just in time to shoot some breathtaking (like this right here) and frozen away in Chinatown, for a dinner that is a dream come true for someone like me, read the great "Angels of desolation" by Kerouac. And I leave you with this pearl of the comments.
