at my apartment, join us...

WE ARE THE WILEY: A Benefit for Jon Wiley


A circle of Brooklyn-based friends have joined together to throw a benefit for beloved, local musician, Jon Wiley. We Are the Wiley: A Benefit Concert for Jon Wiley will feature Adam Green, Lightspeed Champion, DJ Johnny Tropical, and Chairlift at The Shank—an art space and concert venue in Williamsburg, Brooklyn—on Thursday, July 9, 2009 at 8PM.

On March 5, 2009, professional guitarist, bassist, and keyboardist, Jon Wiley awoke without feeling or mobility in his arms and legs. He was subsequently diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and incurred more than $30,000 worth of medical bills for his week-long hospital stay. After a lengthy recovery process, Jon has regained most feeling in his limbs and has gone on in recent months to record and perform with Lightspeed Champion, Adam Green, and his solo project, SpaceCamp. However, he is still without the means to afford his own healthcare.

Join us to celebrate the extraordinary talent of Jon Wiley, and raise funds to cover the expenses of a musician in need. This is a concrete opportunity to help a friend who, like so many artists and musicians in the United States, lack affordable healthcare. Jon’s story highlights the importance of healthcare for every person and the value of living each day to the fullest.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

We Are the Wiley: A Benefit Concert for Jon Wiley

@The Shank

98 Bayard Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

CHAIRLIFT + LIGHTSPEED CHAMPION + ADAM GREEN w/DJ Set by Johnny Tropical

Doors at 8PM (all ages)

Tickets $15 - all proceeds go to Wiley's medical bills.



To make a donation, go here:

http://wearethewiley.blogspot.com/


Thank you for your support!

getting to know you.

Pick up lines that don't work:

Scenario: Me standing outside of a bar alone.

Guy walking up to door: I like your scarf.

(I'm wearing a plain, cream colored scarf, that I found in the lost and found in a bar.)

Me: Thanks

Insert long pause while he stares at me.

Him: Well, do you like anything about me?

Door guy: No, she doesn't. Keep moving.

Thank you, no, I don't care. In fact, I really don't like the bright red cardigan tied around your neck.

***

Boy (overweight and sweating): What instrument do you play?

Girl: Percussion. Um. Do you play anything?

Boy: The most musical experience I have is after I eat bean burritos.

I heard this and the only thing I thought was, what kind of parents does this guy have?

***

In general, these don't work either:

You're hot.

Do I know you?

Have we met?

I can't stop looking at your eyes.

I want to ask you something, something personal, but I'll wait until tomorrow.

***

The bottom line is: I'm a terrible girlfriend. AND. I don't even want to date anyone. I know a lot cute guys. I would rather keep hanging out with them then play the oh-so-awkward "get to know you" game.

In recent news...I have my first soap opera audition this week. Send good vibes. I had no clue I fit that profile. If that doesn't work out - I'm taking off to Asia and Europe. Surprise! Totally bored in New York.

in your face boners, sarcastic but stylish burkas

A couple of days ago, I was sitting towards the back of my regular tea spot in Brooklyn with a good friend. A guy we both know, and see around a lot stopped by our table on his way to the restroom in the back. Neither of us know the guy very well. My friend stood up to say hi to him. I stayed sitting. I was half paying attention to him, and half paying attention to my book. However, I immediately noticed my friend giving me all sorts of weird looks with his eyes. I eventually put my book down to look straight at him. I didn't need to raise my eyes far to see what the looks were for. As soon as my head hit eye level, I had a giant boner pointing right at me. This guy we know, he is one of those guys who wears his pants really low (he's also Dominican, and from Brooklyn if that helps with the image description you most likely want in your head). His pants were literally so low - that a full boner could rest on the top of his jeans for everyone to see, pointing straight out - with minimal constriction. Thank god he remembered to button up his boxers. Thank god his boxers had buttons! The funny part is, I really don't think he had a CLUE about the state of his "privates." My friend rushed the conversation as quick as he possibly could. I didn't say a word. It took everything in me not to laugh (and point). After a few minutes, he headed to the restroom as if everything was right in his world. If he wasn't aware of the situation while he was talking to us - he definitely discovered his prize upon entering the restroom. He did stay in there for an extraordinarily long time. So - it looks like he did something about it, as well. Needless to say, my friend and I are still laughing about it three days later.

***

That same day I had to work at my dreadful bar job (I'm so desperate to get out of a bar, I asked my yoga studio for a receptionist application the other day...free drinks or free yoga...got to look at perks). I had thrown a black scarf around my head while getting ready to leave. My friend said to me, going for the Muslim look today - because you sure look like one. I told him there were a couple people on the lower east side who definitely don't love me, and love to talk about it. I can't help but to egg them on by doing small meaningless things that are slightly out of the norm. If I show up to work looking like a Muslim, and they are already looking for reasons to talk about me, I'm just doing the nice thing and helping them out. But come on, what do you really say about a girl who always wears head wraps, but today left most of the "wrap" - undone? Man, that girl...today she showed up to work with a piece of fabric over her head! I mean, who knows? It cracks me up either way. Anyway. I continued to say to my friend, I mean, it's not like tons of Muslims hang out at a Southwestern bar with a mechanical bull on a regular basis...or, ever. About fifteen minutes into work a group of five people walked in. The only five people in the bar. That's right, three of them were Muslim. I laughed to myself, and then sent a text to my friend. Two hours later we were hosting a 250-person party for a pharmaceutical company. I'm not exaggerating when I say at least two fifths of them were Muslim (mostly Muslim females). As for the rest? Two fifths were Asian, and one fifth were white or "other". I couldn't believe it! I can almost guarantee that I have never seen a Muslim person at the bar I work at. Those of you who don't think you can manifest things with your mind - you are totally wrong! Ha! But really? Is the pharmaceutical market that segregated? The funny part is - of the fifth that were white - a large percentage were blonde girls with fake boobs, matching tank tops, way too much make-up, and self-tanner lubricated skin.

Does anyone use tumblr?

I just started one.

dirtynails.tumblr.com

back back back

Oh, dear. It's been awhile. Sorry everyone.

So.

I moved back to Brooklyn. I was a little weary about it as I grew quite attached to the West Village (who wouldn't, besides those so devoted to Williamsburg's tight pants scene). I have lived in MANY places since moving to New York. See below:

East Village
West Village
Long Island City
South Williamsburg (Rodney)
South Williamsburg (under the bridge)
East Williamsburg (Graham)
South Williamsburg (Broadway)
Bed-Stuy (Malcom X area)
Bed-Stuy (Marcy Project area)
Bushwick (hipster dorm area)
and now...Mccarren Park area,.

I seem to always be taking sublets instead of leases. Add in a broken lease, a crazy ex boyfriend, and some not so ideal living conditions and I seem to be "always on the move." Transient. Vagabond. Homeless? Well, sometimes. However, I have gotten to know a lot of neighborhoods. I first arrived to New York with three bags, myself, and two hundred dollars. My cab took me to 10th Street and Avenue C. I was supposed to be meeting my subleter - who was not there. I called her only to find out she was in Jersey saying goodbye to family (she was going to Africa for awhile) and running late - could I wait a few hours? I looked around frighteningly - Tompkins Square Park scared the hell out of me (I was used to a different definition of "park"), and the East Village/Alphabet City streets - although I liked the architecture, seemed a bit shady. I waited for about an hour on my new apartment's stoop steps - that is, until a nice guy who lived in the building offered to store my three bags in his apartment (until the girl returned). This left me with time to explore, and in minutes I realized the East Village was in fact, my dream neighborhood. It contained everything I wanted, every reason why I chose to dash so quickly from vile Iowa. After an hour or so of walking, I sat down on ninth and A at Pick Me Up Cafe and drank Americanos until I got the call that this girl had finally decided to come back from Jersey.

I grew attached to the East Village and leaving it to be homeless wasn't exactly ideal. After my not so fun homeless stint (at age 18 - hello, scary), I spent a month on Rodney and South 5th and then moved to Long Island City for seven months. I loved Long Island City. However, my apartment was conveniently located next door to the Queensbridge Projects due to my faith in a scum bag broker (note: never use broker). I was a little bit too far from what I loved about LIC and eventually moved to Bed-Stuy. Where I stayed for awhile. I loved Bed-Stuy. In fact, I still love it. This was the mark of a two year Brooklyn run. It wasn't until a catastrophic break-up that I moved to the West Village. I left for Asia, came back, spent a month in Bushwick (which after Hong Kong - kind of freaked me out), and then ran back to the West Village.

So. Here I am. I'm in a huge warehouse space. After some altercations with the roommate situation, I'm incredibly happy with the living situation. The area is a little bit desolate - but as soon as it's warm outside, I'll be walking outside to one of my favorite "parks."

I have had to get use to a few things Brooklyn is filled with....

It's dirty here. There is trash everywhere. Rats ON the streets. Bad streets. It's loud. Construction (see - gentrification). Why do couples fight so much in public? Drug busts. People are rude in Brooklyn, so rude. Today while waiting to board the infamous L train, some chick ran up to me, grabbed my elbow and pushed me aside - so that SHE could get on first. It was absolutely absurd. As if we ALL weren't trying to get on that exact train. This is why Hong Kong might be on to something with designated lines to board trains and people who monitor that it does happen (I know that would be disastrous here, but still). And oh yeah, Brooklyn is NOT safe. I got mugged by kitchen knifepoint a couple of weeks ago. Not okay.

***

So. For those of you who live in New York but are from the midwest...it's really easy to accumulate a pile of stories that your friends in the midwest "would never believe." People are weird here. That's it. You can almost do whatever you want in this city and get away with it. This past weekend I saw something that actually shocked me. The human carpet. Has anyone seen this guy? He rolls himself up in a carpet (with holes for his arms and a flap for his face). He places himself amongst some hipster party crowd and lays there. He likes to get stepped on. In fact, he placed himself in front of my bar this past Friday and stuck a sign to the bar that said, "Step on Carpet." I'm serious. He laid there ALL night while dozens of kids jumped, stepped, and danced on him and enjoyed it. Or, got off to it? Sick. Seriously, what a sick man.

Williamsburg needs hipster trading cards. With all the key players - the promoters, the hype bands, the well known bartenders, DJs...with all the vital hipster stats. List of significant exes? Drug of choice? Thrift store of choice? I bet we could get one of those crazy locals on the street to sell them....anyone in?

Anyway. I'm happy to be back in Brooklyn, I really am.

Promise I won't wait so long to post again (in fact, "the work it takes to be a lower east side hipster" is on the way).

still in bed at 3 AM

While checking up on a friend I miss and love dearly - he mentioned he needs to quit smoking weed.

I asked him why and he replied...

I'm just so lazy on weed, and then I'm gonna have to quit drinking and then all I'm gonna have is jesus and I'm gonna have to kill myself if I become a jesus freak.

Miss you, dear.

***

A little more then irritated that I will be missing Obama's inauguration speech. Apparently an appointment with Vera Wang is just that important.

And....WHAT IS UP WITH THE WEATHER? THIS IS NOT THE MIDWEST!!!!!!!!!

hating it.

slurpee enthusiasts

The meatpacking district has grown on me. I have spent the last few weeks solely hanging out in my neighborhood. It's a much needed break from the Lower East Side and Williamsburg. New York is amazing in the sense that by avoiding an area two miles away, I feel like I am in a different city. My only ventures out of my neighborhood are to my yoga studio - Upper East Side. Not exactly my first pick on fave neighborhoods on the planet. However, there are two movie theaters within two blocks of my studio, three vegan/vegetarian restaurants, several health conscious bodegas, Central Park, the MET, Guggenheim, a cute pink diner, and it's....nice? If anything, the subway ride is always interesting. I take the express 4/5/6 line from the Union Square L stop. The express train is usually packed. Half the people are typical Upper East Side residents. Half of them are going a little farther up - Harlem.

Today I got on the train at five thirty PM (on a Friday). Nothing tops Hong Kong style packed subways (except maybe, Tokyo), but I still find myself rubbing against people I would rather not be within miles of. So. Today. Across the aisle was a Dominican father, his Asian chick friend, and his daughter. He was downing a huge Sam's Club style box of sour gummy Lifesavers (have to admit - sounds delicious). His daughter was pulling on his jacket and asking for a piece of candy. He loudly mocked her for a few subway stops. Oh, just because Mommy isn't around you think I am going to give you a piece of candy? And then laughing, he would put a Lifesaver up to her mouth and then pull it away (several times). He then gave her a lecture on cavities. To which the girl replied (while pouting), I have always wanted a cavity. Painful to watch. Luckily, the train became more packed and he was quickly out of view. A very large Dominican middle-aged women (missing a lot of teeth) moved in front of me. She was accompanied by a black teenage girl. The lady is yelling. And I'm not exaggerating. The oh-so-typical-New York-subway-aggravated "I'm going to tell everyone on this train just how much my life sucks" spiel. She was mad about a number of things. One of them being that she was running late to a movie. She didn't know she had to pick up her kids. Something about a train ticket she spent money on. And some other money related things. She then looks at the teenage girl and says, Why you looking at me like that for? You think you are helping? No you are not. I'm in a motherfucking bad spot. I'll tell you - I'm in a fucking bad place right now, you don't want to mess with me. This kind of interaction went on for another minute or so. The lady yells again, I SAID I'm in a motherfucking bad spot. That's right. I'm in a real, real bad place right now - no one wants to cross my path. To the right of me is an older man. Almost distinguished - but a little bit unraveled. He looks at her, huffs, and says loudly, Yeah and your language is in an even worse spot. He shakes his head and moves next to the happy sour gummy family. Offended, the lady leans over (fully accosting me), looks at him and says, Yeah and you think it's any of your goddamn business? You think anyone here knows what kind of motherfucking bad place I am in? The cute guy with the briefcase and suit jacket makes eye contact with me. We both hold back laughter. The old man turns to the "father" and says, I'll tell you...these subway rides... The father, while popping those gummies like Brazilians pop Ecstasy replies, This is New York son, this is the New York City subway. That's right, New York, I love it. Train doors open, I push my way through the lower class Gossip Girl mess and head to yoga.

It's cold tonight. Really cold. I know, I know, it's waay colder in Iowa. But you all have cars. And the L train stops running at Union Square after eleven PM for the month. Which means I have a long walk to get home. I got off the train tonight. I see a gang of kids with purple dyed hair doing karate chops through the crowded mess of people trying to walk up the staircase. In Hong Kong, this never happens. It's crowded as hell, but the people are always moving in an orderly fashion. In New York, we all get the privilege of standing and waiting for something to happen. Something that will allow us to walk up the stairs. I finally start climbing the steps and am tripped. Thinking it's the gang of kids - I quickly turn around and say, Seriously, how old are you guys? The one with the mohawk says, You got the wrong fucked up guy. Ha! And I thought I was fucked up. He was right. A skinny downtown boy in black is literally falling up the stairs. His boyfriend is doing everything he can to hold him up. And then, as another people jam begins, the guy starts puking everywhere. From the looks of the vomit - I can only assume he is a 7-eleven cherry Slurpee enthusiast. Never seen anything like it before. The gang of kids start cheering and clapping. Everyone else attempts to move away (but can't because we are all stuck in the stairwell).

New York. The funny thing is - this kind of stuff doesn't even phase me. It's more like an annoying mosquito bite that won't go away.

On a positive note - my friends played in Brooklyn tonight. Good enough band to bring me out of West Village hiding. SpaceCamp. Check them out.

Also, William Bennett gallery (65 Greene Street) has a Salvador Dali print exhibit running. Worth checking out. Also worth checking out the basement. Miro, Picasso, Chagall, and Calder pieces. Also some Erin Morrison - who I am loving.

Tired and I need to sleep.