How do I regard that building? With some ambivalence. True: It's ugly; they didn't build the housing they promised; it does nothing good and does some bad things. But those Develop Don't Destroy Brooklyn people -- aren't they all sort of landed aristocracy? The reason they Love Brownstone Brooklyn is that they own a piece of Brownstone Brooklyn. They already got theirs. A tiny violin plays. (Am I thinking about it wrong? Educate me. Wait, don't.) So I am mostly mad at Barclays Center for taking away O'Connor's, which is still shrouded in white plywood, its sparkling concrete-and-glass upstairs protruding from the roof like a second head. And I do kind of like the funny little moss-wave they built in the plaza by the entrance, fulfilling, I guess some line-item requirement for greenery. To the point, though: Barclays Center is real nice inside. It's very controlled and a little too nice, like a strip club is nice -- in spite of you. At various points along the winding ramp that led up to the nosebleed seats, there was a little wagon that sold Brooklyn Brewery beers, a little wagon that sold fancy sausages, a little pizza wagon. Our seats were almost at the top of the stadium, and we experienced the same feeling vertiginous peril you get at Yankee Stadium when we side-stepped our way through the row to get to them. We were a few seats over from Eve and Jon and several other people that we knew.
Look, basketball is not quite my thing. At least, it is not quite my thing, yet. But the quarters went by quickly, and it was exciting to see a sports team zipping around the court and actually, you know, exerting themselves. And it turns out there are still some goony, character-actor types, like Kosta Koufos on the Nuggets, who add a welcome bit of, uh, personality. So I'm not quite sure how to evaluate the proceedings, but it seemed like the Nets beat Denver pretty handily. In between quarters, there were funny little pageants on the court, like a class of Greek Orthodox elementary school kids playing a five minute expo game. A slightly confused-looking community organizer was trundled out to be honored for her contributions. There were no dunks.
The following Saturday, Nina and I stopped by the Mercury Lounge to see bands. Ski Lodge was opening for Ex-Cops, who I thought Nina would get a kick out of. I think they were the early show. Ski Lodge is one of those bands that doesn't move around a lot. The two guitar players and the bassist wore their instruments high up on their chests and strummed them in a very deliberate and controlled way. The lead singer sounded a bit like Morrissey and had a pale blue Oxford shirt on that he tucked into his pants. The band sounded like The Smiths. They were okay. Ex-Cops were a bit more exciting. I guess they're properly a two-piece, a guy and a lady, but they had a bass player and a drummer up on stage with them. They've got a very hip look -- the lady's improbably good-looking, in a particularly North Brooklyn sort of way; the guy is carefully scruffy, sports a denim jacket and a baseball cap with a flipped-up brim like the skater skeleton on Cerebral Ballzy's album cover. They played tightly controlled, high speed punky pop songs, bopping in place as the lights flashed around them. The best thing in their set was a song called Broken Chinese Chairs. As we were leaving, I heard someone call my name. It turned out that my friend Adam from high school had been at the show with a lady friend. We cross-introduced each other and chatted for a while on Houston Street. We agreed in our assessment of the bands. Nina and I complimented him on his success: We'd learned on Facebook just days earlier that not only had he made a feature film but that it had won the top prize at SXSW. I hadn't seen him in years.
Nina and I stopped at Cake Shop afterwards so I could check something. Had Andy Bodor put a copy of our record up for sale in the "Cake Shop Recommends" bin? Indeed he had. Internet, now I can die.
Time passes.
Things that used to be small milestones for me but which I hardly notice now:
- Swapping out a used-up razor blade
- Buying a new brick of supermarket cheese
- Renting a movie
- Buying a new pair of jeans
- Getting a haircut from Edward
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