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thatgirlallison08 at gmail dot com
Honestly? I really don’t like Valentine’s Day. I’m very happy that my man is flying up tonight to see me, but we’re not going out to dinner (we did have reservations but I asked him if he’d mind if we got Levain, beer, and chicken wings instead at a pub on the UWS - he was happy to oblige). But this date just happened to fall on a weekend so we said, why not!
I’ve had a terrible habit of breaking up with guys that I’m seeing, casually or otherwise, within 1-7 days of this holiday. I can’t take the pressure.
So, since I technically have a valentine this year, and the pressure is basically off (no parading around like we’re all pro-Valentine’s Day), I’m trying to calm down and just have fun eating some chocolate.
We’re doing a cheesy Valentine’s Day thing at work and we all had to make “card bags” and mine properly reflects my feelings towards the holiday:
Happy chocolate, cupcake, and sex day!
After I went to my friend’s bar in East Williamsburg (i.e. Bushwick!) by myself a few weeks ago and experienced what it was like to hang out by myself at a bar again, I really liked it. Spending time solo has become a thing of the past unfortunately. I’ve developed a set of built-in friends who I can usually wrangle to go with me to lots of places so that leaves very little time for hanging out by myself.
In college I’d often spend one night a week at my favorite spot on West Broadway, Edwards. I was friendly with the staff and they had really, really good fries. I’d often bring in a book, or maybe a notebook if I was in the midst of writing a play, chat with the other regulars, and generally have an awesome, low-key time.
Well, I’ve started to reclaim my solo time again. I finished The Tipping Point down at Edwards last Saturday night and after took the L train to East Bushwick. While this has been good and well, and lots of fun, I’ve also noticed myself regressing back to my 23-year-old self in which I’m always on the look-out for a cute guy to chat with. It’s stupid… and very depressing.
I’ve also gotten sick of drinking (for now). I had three beers last Saturday and felt pretty lousy after. I don’t like feeling drunk or hungover the next morning (and I’m a lightweight so this happens easily). The last few nights I’ve wanted to go have dinner in one of my favorite neighborhood bars with a pint, but as soon as I sit down, I change my mind, leave, and get dinner at Whole Foods (or I, you know, cook).
I’m not really sure what the point of this is. I think it’s just to say that re-discovering alone time is awesome. It doesn’t mean I’m a loner or don’t adore my friends, but sometimes you just have to be alone with the thoughts in your head. Or chatting it up with strangers (ie. new friends) at the bar of your favorite restaurant.
Sometimes you just need a break to refocus on yourself.
I’d bought a ticket a few weeks back for Cuatro! at the CBGB festival and completely forgot what day it was for until about two days ago. Luckily Tanya was also going, so after a long day of work yesterday, and a delicious meal of authentic tacos at a tiny little place called Oaxaca on a street called ‘Extra Place,’ I met up with her at the Anthology Film Center on 2nd and 2nd.
Because the band, and CBGB’s, is awful at planning, they booked the premiere of this film on the same night as Broadway Idiot, and since Broadway Idiot had a talkback afterward, of course everyone went there. There were probably 15 people at Cuatro!, but we didn’t care. We were there to have fun.
It also made me want to pick up my guitar (which has been sitting in it’s case for a few weeks now) again. Which is always awesome too.
I look forward to see Broadway Idiot soon, and all the future documentaries to come from Green Day (fingers crossed, right?).
Nothing describes a Green Day concert on the floor better than the title of a song off of Tre, “Brutal Love.” You will sweat. You will get kicked. You will get stepped on. You will get shoved. You may find yourself in a mosh pit. You may even get kicked in the head by a crowd surfer. But all the while you’re smiling because there’s no place you’d rather be than down in front, and center, at a Green Day concert.
My friends and I were about midway back when we finally made our way down to the floor at Barclays. The venue was far from capacity and the opening act (Best Coast) was far from going onstage. If this was as far as we got, that’d be fine (but we knew we’d get closer eventually).
Non-equity tours have an admittedly sour reputation of being the poor, red headed younger sibling of equity tours. I saw the first non-equity tour of Rent in 2002 and it was a disaster, to say the least. With that in mind, one can assume my expectations were low for the non-equity tour of American Idiot. The equity tour had been somewhat of a let down last year after the Boston Opera House swallowed up what little energy the half-recycled touring cast had. So, while expectations were low, my friends and I happily headed to Hartford yesterday to see the show we loved that we hasn’t seen in over a year. I picked up two copies of Rolling Stone so we could read about our favorite rockstar on the way up.
We got Hartford and were thoroughly saddened when the city lacked people and open restaurants. I believe there were a whopping sum of two open restaurants open across Bushnell Park from the theatre. The funny thing was that every Hartford native we came across apologized for their city and its lack of, well, everything. After (way too much) searching we eventually found a lovely little restaurant called Salute and parked ourselves at the bar. Minutes later a sea of suits (WASPS) started filing in. Apparently a new Connecticut Supreme Court justice named Andrew had just been sworn in and we were lunching at the site of his celebratory party. Soon after the suits became overwhelming we paid and went back to meet our friend who’d overslept and missed our bus (no worries, he caught the next one). We relaxed and charged our phones as we waited for the doors to the Bushnell Theater opened.
The theatre was large but not as big as the Boston Opera House. We had awesome seats, Row D, though they were still 8 or so rows back, but they were closer than we’d had in Boston. But finally it was fuck time.