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The LogThe Party Girl Strikes Again! It's The Mid-September Party Roundup! People have been asking me lately why the Log hasn't been updated. Apart from being surprised that anyone was evening reading it, I have to admit that I have been busy. When I say busy, I don't mean the kind of busy you tell an unwanted suitor when he keeps calling you for a date. Sorry, I'm really busy with work and I can't go to the cinema with you this weekend. Or ever, for that matter. When I'm busy I mean the kind of busy that literally keeps me out of my house, much to the chagrin of Pookie, my fearless cat. There's work, so that eats up eight hours of my day. Then afterwards I run my 7-mile loop -- again, another hour or so I'll never get back. After a shower and some clean socks, I'm off to my Evening Plans, which could be anything from a rehearsal for Melodia, the women's ensemble I sing with or going to see a show in an effort to quell my passion/obsession for music. There's also the wildcard evenings, the ones where I wander aimlessly around Nolita admiring Sigerson Morrison shoes or sitting in Union Square watching bad skateboarding and uber-liberals spout propaganda through megaphones. Ah, election years. Most importantly, now that summer is over, most of New York has washed up on shore again from their vacations and there are parties to attend. The music world is starting its blitzkrieg pre-Christmas marketing and the publishing industry has roused itself from its August-long nap. There are other gatherings as well. Friends of mine are pairing up, marrying, breeding and I must show up at their celebrations, gift in hand. There have been birthdays, housewarmings and one dinner in honor of a college friend relocating to Florida. (Clearly, she missed the memo about hurricane season.) So for anyone who has wondered where I've been or why their e-mails have not been returned, I have two words for you: Champagne Hangover. Okay, and maybe a few more: Tuesday, Sept. 14th, 2004 I walked down from Gramercy and after a few awkward minutes pretending to look for my friends who weren't coming anyway, I was thrilled to see my buddy Bruce Mason there with a couple of his assorted publishing cohorts. We indulged in the free bourbon at the bar, some of us taking it with ginger ale, others with bitters and we schmoozed and carried on. I left when I worried I wouldn't be able to tell north from south anymore and went home. Secretary was on one of the movie channels and I watched that before going to bed. James Spader is so handsome in that film that sometimes I can't look directly at him. It's like looking at the sun.
Friday, Sept. 17th, 2004 Regardless, Sara and a hodge podge of others who used to sing with the Young People's Chorus of New York went down to karaoke staple Planet Rose to fete her day of birth. My normal karaoke choice, "Manic Monday" by the Bangles wasn't available (Huh?!) nor was anything by Debbie Gibson. (Ergo, no one could be "Lost in your Eyes.") I went out on a limb and opened up with "She Bangs," my homage to William Hung and then segued into, "I Miss You" by Blink-182. I closed up with "Why Can't I" by Liz Phair. I have to admit that as much as I lurk around downtown Manhattan, I have no shame admitting that I like Blink-182. Sure, at times they can be a little McRock, but "I Miss You" is a beautiful song and written in the key of D Major, one of my favorite keys. Anyway, songs were sung, my friend Jon oogled the NYU girls who for some reason decided to croon a Celine Dion song and I found out that Abby's 22-year-old sister whom I had never met before went on a date with a musician friend of mine after meeting him at some Ludlow street haunt. Worlds are truly colliding. Saturday, Sept. 18th, 2004 Once there everything fell into place. The guests were the usual suspects from my artsy Syracuse crowd. Between the amazing lemon chicken and the ziti, I don't think I needed to eat for a good day afterwards. In this day of catered events, I have a lot of respect for meals that are cooked for thirty people and yet taste like they were prepared for four. Afterwards we all went over to Sunnyside, Queens and boozed and schmoozed a little more while having our way with the jukebox. It was low-key wholesome fun, which in New York City can sometimes be a little hard to come by. Monday, Sept. 20th And what's not to like about a place with high ceilings, flattering lighting and faux oak doors in the bathroom? (Or maybe they're not faux? All I know is that the bathroom's pretty cozy.) The DJ at Lotus is always quality and the bartenders snap to attention the minute you approach them. The party for "My Old Man" served two great drinks, a pink, fizzy martini thing and a bourbon mixer. These were never in short supply. It was also one of those warm New York nights and the mammoth front doors of Lotus were open and sometimes it seemed like people just wandered in from the street. This is a good thing, methinks. I was surprised by how many people I knew at the party. Sometimes these events scare me because they can be full of jaded publishing types talking shop in little clusters. This is a problem for someone like myself who goes to most parties alone. (Unlike Eminem, I don't need a posse when I go out in public.) Sohn's party attracted a friendly bunch of bloggers, editors, publicists and a few photographers. If you happen to see some of the photos from the event please do not look at the ones of me. I am terribly shiny in all of them, and this brings me great shame. By the way, buy Amy's book, "My Old Man." It's a great read, especially if you are young and hip and are familiar with the Cobble Hill section of Brooklyn. I would live there, and I'm as Manhattan as they come. Wednesday, Sept. 22, 2004 The Damianis are an Italian family that have been selling brilliant diamonds and jewelry since 1924. In honor of this benchmark they invited about 300 of their nearest and dearest to Le Cirque and filled them with amazing food and booze and let a few trusted journalists (ahem!) know in advance that Gweneth Paltrow would be their new spokeswoman . Guests came in sharp dresses and shiny suits. There were models, actors, trophy wives and even a few fledging writers having their way with all the free champagne. The next day I read that Brini Maxwell, Tatum O'Neal, and LeVar Burton of "Reading Rainbow" fame were all in attendance, among many others that I couldn't recognize. That's high living.
Thursday, Sept. 23, 2004 I came a little late and slipped onto a bench in the back of the room, which was pretty full. It was a young, hip crowd who paid $25 for the screening, a free copy of Ned's book as well as an open bar of assorted Brooklyn lagers. Although it was a little rowdy during Ned's reading, during which he wore only a burlap sack, a hush came over the crowd when "Donnie Darko" came on. What is it about that movie that captivates people? Is it that we all want to get in touch with our former teen angst? Are we hopelessly charmed by the boyish good looks of Jake Gyllenhall? Or do we secretly want to be a member of Sparkle Motion? The Brooklyn Weiss started to make me sleepy so I stopped canoodling the cat that was wandering around the room and headed back to Manhattan. I thought it was strange how warm out it was, and it's almost the end of September. At home I cranked the air conditioning and fell asleep with the lights still on. Pookie, protesting being abandoned for too many days, curled up alone on my couch. *** This morning I woke up to a bank account full of money, thanks to direct
deposit of my paycheck. I slept in, which meant until 6:15 AM, and took
a cab to work. I bought myself a bagel with lox and cream cheese for
breakfast, my payday staple. Tonight I have a mellow dinner with a friend
planned. The rest of the weekend is pretty much unclaimed. Maybe that's
not such a bad thing. |
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