January 25

Hi All!
I am back in NY and oh, does it feel good. Of course, no sooner have I landed than I have to turn around and take off again. I start shooting a show in Florida at the end of next week and then go directly after to shoot another show in Japan, China and Hawaii. So much for new year's resolutions.... (mine was to stay put for a while.)

Before I go, I will be doing a surprise (not so surprise now, eh?) song with Crystal Ponzio during her show at the lovely Rockwood Music Hall. Given that I'll only be doing a single song, that leaves the rest of the night to drink and catch up with you, so if you feel like stopping by, come in and say hi!
Details are below.

1/25/08
7PM at Rockwood Music Hall
196 Allen St. btwn Houston and Stanton
No Cover
www.crystalponzio.com

"I'll be followed on stage by Emily King, who was just nominated for a Grammy! …and Susan Cagle…who used to play in the subway and then wrote a song about Oprah and now she's famous....
Hope to see you there and please make sure to bring some love."

Crystal

Three Notes From Three Strangers

poetry shouldn't be taken too seriously. that said, here's some poetry.

Three Notes From Three Strangers
Over at Terminal 5 tonight, the band Mars Volta is playing. A friend is there. She beams up at the stage from below. Another friend has just gotten off work, has stumbled into her apartment. She is tired, never wants to leave home again. Another is already at home, has been all day. Is staring into the mirror and running a bath.

They call it an idiom, a term or phrase whose meaning cannot be deduced from literal definitions. Whichever man or woman said this one knew something about something. “The grass is always greener,” s/he said.

It's night.
The world is turned from the light and I'm taking my pants off.
I recently got three notes from three strangers.
They said that they’d like my pants- like to put them aside.
Why, I thought, when they're not their size?

The phone is ringing. An ex-boyfriend. A friend. I left him.
We make plans. To meet. For coffee.
“I love you,” he says, before goodbye.
I love him, I think.
I don’t reply.

The him is an other, a boy, a man-
an unusual creature I can’t get a handle on.
But still I try. And want. And wait. And don't know why.

I got three notes from three strangers.

yet another reason to be a vegetarian:

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/15/business/15cnd-clone.html?_r=1&hp&oref=slogin