Wednesday, June 20, 2007

The Shiney Apple welcomes Yours Truly with tasty, crunchy goodness of the vibe and visual varieties.
Staying at the sumptuous Gramercy Park Hotel which feels like a few other joints where I've laid my non-weary head over the years. Hyper-designed and definitely not how you would wish your everyday spaces to appear, but a lovely cinematic setting.
It is a wonderful thing to feel encompassed by a Hotel Plan: the scent, the lighting, the furnishings all thought out.
Last night dined at Gotham and Alfred was there and we talked for a bit and then introduced him to Sparky when she arrived. He sent over champagne and then hung at the table for a bit and then suggested a tasting menu. We supped on multiple courses, each with a different plate, all paired with excellent wine choices explained by the sommeliere. It was all a gift from Alfred. We left a hefty tip for the non-hovering, attentive helpers.
It was raining and we walked in the wet streets and then saw a fire on the top floor of a building just off Union Square.
The fire company blocked off several blocks and just the short walk rendered us with smokey hair. We hung out in Jade Lounge, not allowed to just enter the Rose Lounge until a certain amount of time, for some reason, the inner doorman not impressed enough, no, actually, he was communicating with the outer, on-the-street doorman via earpieces and cuff mic, and the outer doorman said we had to wait, despite the guest status. Finally, we could enter the Rose Lounge which is an art-teeming rathskellar. Gilbert and George, Picasso, Haring on the walls.
Famous people dotted throughout the room and rumour hovered about that White Stripes not only were staying in this very hotel, but had announced after their gig, onstage, that the after-party was in that very room. Not sure if Meg was there, might have been.
Time to go and see art and then more art and then more art.

Love the art walk, Love the art talk.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

Just what are You looking at, You query.
This is Jamie Robinson, a teen, the toppermost rock guitar (Your non-verbal, readerly word association just shuffled to word god ... after guitar. but no) player, as voted upon by six judges of varied renown last night.
Saw a guitar maven who I know quite well, V, and the lovely Jess beforehand and he voted in the prelim round and basically (him being of good reasoning skills and impeccable tastes and such) said to watch out for this kid, that he'd win.
In the midst of one of his original compostions, he thumped out Pachelbel's Canon which was completely remarkable.
Yours Truly shot this whole stringed extravaganza, WNED's North American Rock Guitar Competition, for Them.
Photographing live rock and roll is one of thee most favoured things in this life.
YT blogs from the corner of Elizabeth and Prince, as is my Shiney Apple wont, with, I'm sure, a few stray corn kernels on my cheeks, my nose sniffling merrily from the plethora of El Yucateco habanero sauce just snarfled.
Here in the SA for a few days, a summer respite.
To see Serra, Gurskey, et al.
Meeting up with Sparky shortly to meander, wend, hear some music down at VisionFest, and then same tomorrow night as Fred is performing his cellic magique.

Magiqual, Mystery Love.