Power Love

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19 December 2008


The whole reason we went to New York in the first place was because I am a media mogul and I had to check in with my peeps and make sure they were buying up the media world during this trying economic time, which is having no effect on me whatsoever because I’m filthy rich and I own 75% of the world.

In addition, we were also going to New York because me and Margot and Bobby and Megan had pieces that we wrote that Bohemian Archaeology was performing on a stage at City Winery, a wine bar in Soho, or possibly another neighborhood. I read a lot of fashion blogs and all the stylish people seem to be just randomly walking around Soho in their fashiony garb and just, like, you know, randomly being fashionable and eating, like, bagels, but low calorie bagels, without cream cheese. Anyhoo, I think me and Margot were dressed fashionably, and hence, that is why I think we were in Soho. It might have been the West Village, though. Or, possibly, Spain. Also, Margot wore fishnets. I did not get a picture. I am kicking myself as I write this for not getting a picture of the fishnets. And I mean, actual fishnets. Not hole-y nylons. I mean, nets with which you catch fish.

The staff at the wine bar was way on top of the whole checking in/box office thing and they were most definitely “facilitating.” I was also “helping” with box office, but I must say, I was a bit out of my “element.” Usually when I “work” box office, it’s at a 2nd Story event, and there is a lot of paper around and a few pens and people leave me alone and that is where I shine, because then I can write notes about my cool alt rock country punk death metal band and also compose treatises on the state of the world wherein I elect myself Overseer of All and then promptly fire the mayor of Chicago and plow and salt the streets and then everyone lives happily ever after. However, in my capacity as Overseer of All, I probably will not plow and salt the streets in summer. I will pave them in gold for the many parades I will have in my honor, though, so keep an eye out for the press release on that.

Moving on. “Working box office” really meant “handing out programs.” Of which I had a pile to take home with me, but I was accosted by paparazzi on my way out of the show and they stole my programs and thank god that’s all they took because really what they wanted was my blood. And my tailor’s name (my tailor’s name is “Target”). The space of the bar was gorgeous—open floor, stage at the back, blonde wood floors, blonde wood four-top tables. Barrels in the back room to make wine and imprison beer drinkers. The bathroom was downstairs. I kept getting confused and walked into the men’s bathroom by mistake. Many times. They might want to reconsider their signage. I’m sure my confusion had everything to do with the signage and nothing to do with the wine.

The show: I am impressed by what I learn when someone else tells a story I wrote. Especially since the someone else who told my story was Jordana, who is so amazing to me, my frontal lobe explodes when I think about it. I think the audience was really into it. I also think the audience really loved the intermission when I got up on one of the blonde wood tables and did my interpretive dance to Michael Jackson’s, “Billie Jean.” Talk about shining! Wow!

After the show, we went to a bar. I talked with two Irishmen about Blago. They knew a lot about it. “We talk about politics at the dinner table in Ireland,” they told me, “not like you Americans here. No one talks politics here.” “Come to Chicago,” I said. “We talk politics there.” And then we discussed bangers and mash.

The night ended in the morning, which was awesome because travelling back to Chicago on three hours of sleep is just about the best way to travel ever. And while I love Chicago in a way that makes my heart ache, I can see how people feel the same about New York. We will be back.