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April 29, 2007
Sunday Morning
I can't recall the last time I voluntarily got up before 9am on a Sunday. The world is my oyster! Though I do enjoy catching up on my sleep and waking up in the afternoon on the weekends, it can be rather depressing to only have a few hours of daylight. Now I have the whole day ahead of me. Ahhhh...
Friday night met up with an old friend I hadn't seen in nearly a decade. Tommy from Texas. Tommy and I met in a summer film program for promising (uh) high schoolers at Northwestern. Tommy was more or less the same as I remembered him, except he had acquired a dozen tattoos and a career as a drummer in a punk band. His band the Krum Bums are in the midst of a world tour right now and they were making a one-night stop in New York, at this funky Polish nightclub in Greenpoint. I don't really listen to that flavor of punk music anymore but I got to say they put on one hell of a show. The members of the band are mostly Mexican and at one point the lead singer did a shout out to the crowd, "Any dirty Mexicans in the house?" which was met with dead silence. Pretty funny. It was also an all-ages show and Rafe and I were probably the oldest people in the crowd. When I went to the bathroom, the stalls were packed with girls sneaking smokes and gossiping and redoing their eyeliner. Outside there was moshing. Real live moshing. The last time I moshed myself was probably twelve years ago. I lost a shoe and got a black eye. I was lucky I didn't get seriously injured. It's dangerous! It's surprising to me that there's still a punk scene like that, the same kind that's been around for decades. The show was a blast though and the music was so loud and base-heavy I felt as though I was about to go into cardiac arrest.
Later we met up in the East Village with Tommy and had shots of Jameson and many rounds of beer and talked about Texas. Just a fun night. I woke up Saturday thinking I had something important to do but I couldn't remember what. I couldn't even think straight. All I had were visions of mohawks dancing in my head. What was it I was I supposed to do?
Fuck. Taxes! I nearly forgot I had a appointment with Mr. Lupo. I rushed down to Court Street- his office is right next to Raccuglia's Funeral Home. Old school. He was waiting for me out front, arms crossed across his belly. "You Goldberg?" "Yes," I huffed, out of breath, apologizing for being late. "Step inside my office," he grumbled. Inside his office he had, I kid you not, a framed poster of THE GODFATHER. He was quick and surprisingly friendly and the whole process was relatively painless. Sure I was a bit overdue thanks to the assholes at H&R Block (never go there!) but it's ok, I'm all good now. Lupo did me right.
With that weight lifted off my shoulders, and it being Spring and all, I strolled around the hood, got an iced coffee down at D'Amicos, and gawked at the increasing number of fancy new boutiques and young-looking couples with strollers and dogs. We've reached maximum capacity here. The neighborhood doesn't need any more of anything (including babies and pugs). Let's just chill out for a bit. Later I met up with Rafe and we walked down to the oddly desolate Macy's in downtown Brooklyn. That place is only good for a pants crisis, as in "I have no pants to wear! I need pants!" Usually I'm the one with the crisis but this time it was Rafe. He had literally bore holes into the seats of all his work pants (don't ask me how). I kind of like Macy's though, there's something reassuring about it. Growing up my dad used to love taking us to there. He still does. "They have such good sales!" I don't think he's realized that they're always having a sale. I haven't ever gone home to visit without at least one pilgrimage to the store [cue Tradition song from Fiddler on the Roof]
Later, saddled with shopping bags full of new pants, we went out for an early dinner at Hibino, this new Japanese restaurant on a quiet stretch of Henry Street. I'd been dying to go there since it first opened, but everytime we tried to go before it had always been too full. Even when we got there yesterday at opening time, 5:30, there was a crowd of people drooling like zombies waiting to be let in. But it was worth the wait. Their specialty is Kyoto-style home cooking and Obanzai (Japanese tapas) and man do I love me some tapas. But that wasn't the only thing- we sampled an array of tasty morsels. Mmmelt in your mouth sushi. The freshest creamiest homemade tofu (and normally I don't even like tofu). Braised short rib so tender like the best Jewish brisket. One of the best restaurants I've been to in a long while. Clean thoughtful design, attentive smiley service, artful presentation, totally unpretentious and really reasonable prices.
Go. Go now. Best bet is to go at 5:30 right when they open. Bring your own sake.
After, we came home and, drugged by the deliciousness of the evening, promptly fell asleep. Just a little catnappppp.....
I woke up at 11:30 disoriented and crabby and went right back to bed. But now I'm up! Up and awake but still kind of crabby.
Posted by debbie at April 29, 2007 9:41 AM