She Meant Nothing To Me, Honest
Today has been given over to tending the Cutesome, and I am thus "working from home" - 400 words and counting. This is not so bad as I feared. What I had feared was endless breaks for A-Team re-runs on the Sleuth Channel, spurious coffee breaks and limited progress. Ho-hum - we will see what the afternoon brings.
This morning's news from Atlantic Yards land concerns the launch of an advisory board for Develop Don't Destroy composed of celebrities (Rosie Perez, Heath Ledger, Steve Buscemi), authors (Lethem, Foer), and eminent domain celebrities (Suzette Kelo, who is to fighting eminent domain what "Fitness celebrity" John Basedow is to fitness*). Oh, and Bob Law, whose eponymous shops litter Vanderbilt Avenue, and who is described as an activist and radio personality (Actually, the man has the chops, as you can read here. Bobbins, my googling skills are today).
I'm normally not a fan of these advisory board thingamybobs - indeed in my time I've even killed one on the grounds of extreme uselessness. Their purpose is most apparent at the start of their lives, and after that they fade into vestigiality. But the two things worth noting are that the launch did at least stir Gawker from its Us Weekly-gorged torpor. It also shows that if the stupid project can irritate celebrities living in Boerum Hill and Park Slope, it must be pretty massive and unpleasant.
Now time for a confession. I ambled towards DUMBO yesterday with a celebrity mp3-blogger et fils, looking for a party. Turned out that there was merely an eensy-weensy bit of Kidz Rock capping a bike tour of some sort. I dare say Gothamist was around somewhere. Wasn't that inspiring.
But it was while looking for a frozen margarita we were accosted by to hep types, who clearly recognised us as some depraved sort of fellow traveller. "Dude, where's the art at?," they muttered at us in salutation. Mig-Hole's direction skillz proved to be more than match for mine, and we pointed them towards the abandoned ABC warehouse, where the Columbia MFA programme was having a show.
Not that much interesting stuff there, truth be told, except for an exhibit recognising the fact that hipster karaoke now counts as art. But there was free Brooklyn Pennant. Bugger. Now, here's an ethical dilemma. Did I promise never to drink the stuff, or never to pay for the stuff ever again? I think I've been clear on the subject - none should have passed my lips. But as you can tell from the tense construction, it did, and I'm ashamed at being such a hypocrite. In my defence, I'll note that it was free, and that it was a tad early to be chugging wine.
Still, must do better. Talking of posh w*nkers shirking their responsibilities, here's something from Fluffy. Fluffy were rough contemporaries of Kenickie, fiercely intelligent northern working class girls. Fluffy, on the other hand, were nasty, southern, posh and stupid. Which meant they made better punk rock. They formed in 1994, and were gone about three years later. Christgau was apparently fond of them.
They signed to former Geffen A&R man Tom Zutaut's The Enclave label, but unfortunately Zutaut did not get much more out of them than a live EP before they disbanded. Pity, mostly.
Fluffy - "Deny Everything"
Start searching for "5 Live" here
*Interestingly enough, Basedow's publicist, Manta Communications, is based in Farmingdale, NY. And having done a bit of elementary googling, I now realise that the similarities between Kelo and Basedow are limited, because Basedow has proclaimed himself a celebrity, and is the basis for a few complaints. Sorry!