Guy Brighton: March 2004 Archives

March 31, 2004

Miles Thirst

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WED 31st MAR : KLEINING UP THE WALLS

Out with Andrew and Phil USA Wednesday night. Not much going on. Mooching about in West Village from Other Room to Spotted Pig to Art Bar. Very quiet - even had some pasta somewhere like a good boy.

We hit the Bottega Bar at the Maritime and it was more of the same. It was just a little dull.

We thought we'd just go and have a last one at this do at an XLR8R magazine party at the Lodge on 10th Avenue we had heard about.... man! The place was crammed.

Guy, Andrew and Phil wave in a new party!!!

To the left, the right, below, all over. We hussled ourselves some space in the upstairs room and became amazed at the sheer quantities (and qualities) of all the women standing around us..... was it our magnetic sex appeal, funny accents or maybe because we found ourselves standing next to the tables of some movie stars who were celebrating the launch of this film called United States of Leland.

Free booze... oh dear. Time just past as quickly as the beer down my throat. A bit of prancing around, having fun then some guy with a bodyguard starts walking around like he owns the place. (And of course, I've come to the US to get away with that sort of behavio(u)r). I ask a few people bluntly who he is but they are too interested in him. He walks up to us and asks - hey guys, how are you enjoying the party? I was a little merry.... "Who the f*ck are you?" I said sort of quietly and then pointed my finger in a vague direction."F*ck off".

Turns out it's this guy is called Chris Klien - I think he starred in American Pyre....

I don't think he was used to people talking to him like that. He just seemed to vanish...

When I got home at 1.30am the Lady punched me four or five times, asked me why my cell phone had been turned off and then I got the silent treatment until the next day I received a 2000 word email describing what an arsehole I am.

I do feel a bit guilty. I should have called in. But after having such a good time it's hard to feel too bad.... well sort of.

(sorry Lady)

And anyway. Andrew got in at 4pm after being thrown out after having a 'disagreement' with the DJ!!! So it's all relative...

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March 30, 2004

COFFEE AND CIGARETTES

Check the trailer on this site - looks like a very cool film: http://www.coffeeandcigarettesmovie.com/

Not to be confused with this fellow's blog - but now I found it, it's worth a read.

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March 28, 2004

OPEN HOUSE : MAR 28th

Today we went Open House-ing. On Sundays, the Lady has dragged me out several times before but I have never really felt compelled to write about it.

Now I do. Now the sun shines.

So - on and off - for three months the Lady's been looking for a little one bedroom place to call home (and let me crash): "somewhere in the West Village would be nice... or maybe Greenwich, OK then Chelsea, I suppose East Village will do..."

I normally spend Sunday mornings trying to avoid the Lady who gets an impulse to tidy the apt. Tidy frantically and complain about the mess I make. Trying to avoid someone in a studio apt is a little difficult.

At first - when she got the property bug I saw this as a way of curtailing the manic scrubbing out of a lazy Sunday morning and the chance to wander the streets and explore.

For months I've wandered from East 9th to West 21st - from pokey alcoves in grey apartment slabs to dank one bedrooms in pre-civil wars. After the first three or four weeks of being buzzed-in and registering our names as we came through the door I began to have a sneaky suspicion that the Lady was often more interested in seeing how other people live. I concede that I may suffer the occasional urge whilst walking past someone's house to look through the windows (In my current financial affairs this often brings misery when I spot amazing kitchens backing out onto beautiful cared for gardens) - but I am beginning to wonder whether the Lady has any interest at all in finding a place. No longer do we just turn up to any old Open House - but she checks to see if the owner has moved yet - the ultimate find is the Private Sale (i.e. the owner's still in situ and actually there to show you their humble abode). In fact, it's as if she's started a little club filled with the fellow buyers we regulaly see on Sundays. Sometimes - normally on stair wells - she bumps into one of the club and there ensues a few remarks about the way people live.

It is only with the sun that the Lady has refocused her efforts. The sun brightened NYC so much today that suddenly there are queues of people lined up and down every stoop in the Village. All holding printed Internet pages or folded copies of the NY Times Property Section.

A feeling of being an oldtimer transcends you. You can't help but both sneer at these new upstarts and panic that they'll find that perfect home in less time than you. It's pure school playground, it's pure fraternity. Now the Lady and her club friends close ranks: at the front door they tell newcomers the wrong apartment number, as the elevators open they point them the wrong way, 'oh - that one, it's gone already' they pronounce loudly when they pass a queue outside a brownstone.

But what really happens is that the Lady finally makes an offer on a sweet 1 bedroom in West Village only to find that these new fiends have driven the price up 35K. In a panic, she puts in an offer on a dull north facing slab: it's got 4 offers already, dear - over the asking price.

She looks at the Pre-Agreed Mortgage Advice thingy letter and compares the amount she can borrow with the amount she has to pay.

We think : Google search - banks, west village, new york, security weakness

Posted by Guy Brighton at 9:31 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 27, 2004

SAT 27th MAR: MISSING JUSTIN

In the evening I went to a restaurant very similar to that old London favorite(?) Break for the Border.... I can't be arsed to report anything - except that when we came home - after barracking the taxi driver for the route he took - we nearly ran Justin Timberlake over on a crossing in Meatpacking. I mean if I was jumping up and down waving at screaming girls I'd expect to be knocked down too.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 9:15 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

SAT 27th MAR: DOV CHARNEY IN AMERICAN APPAREL

So I'm writing an article for my company on American Apparel and their great products and philosophy. I've been staring all week at their site, other blogs* talking about American Apparel and reading interviews with the brilliant if a bit crazy main man Dov Charney.

What would top the piece would be to get some feedback from their press office about the brand, I've been thinking. But who do I bump into in the Broadway AA store on Saturday afternoon but Dov!! I had to say hello. Man, I got nervous but we soon started speaking about my article and also about him setting up a new location in London.....

American Apparel Broadway Store Where The Event Happened

What a day! I'll post the article when I'm finished.

You should check out the site and also what other people have said about American Apparel clothing:

Wiretap
Cool Hunting
Sound Commons
The Broad Room
Kray Brown
Placeholder, coffee and clothing
Dynamic Driveller
Achewood
What Is The Message
Cool/Lame
Young & WithIt
Madame Insane
Grow Real
5500
Zero Boutique
Digs Magazine Forum
Hackneyed Central
Confessions of a girl in love
Vanessa Pam and Me
Solipsist
Hometown Unicorn
Tongues & Thumbs
Valloq.com
Up4
Secretly Ironic
Are Those My Panties On Your Face
Rupture
Urban Dryad
American Apparel Customer Feedback Page

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SAT 27th MAR: NYC Persian Parade on Madison Avenue

Went and saw the Persian Parade along Madison. The Lady has got up at 6am to help decorate a float with flowers. Everyone seemed so funny... and so nosy.

Iranian / Persian Parade along Madison Avenue 2004

20 Photos>>>

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March 26, 2004

FRI 26th MAR : QUIET NIGHT OUT IN BROOKLYN

One of those nights you search but you cannot find.....

A camera-phone photography, erm, special:

Looks comfortable just lying here a minute...

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COOL SITE : CRIMSON ROOM

http://www.datacraft.co.jp/takagism/index_e.html

Clues

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March 24, 2004

WED 24TH MAR : SUN IS SHINING

WEATHER IS SWEET

Makes you want, want to move your dancing feet!

Spring is here. The sun is shinging. I get my fist pay check/cheque (in cash) for the first time in 2 years. And suddenly we realise that these days are perfect for lunches in SoHo.

And all the things you forget about New York start to reappear. Today it's tattoos. I forgot that so many girls had so many tattoos up and down their forearms. Hmm - tattoos and vests. New York City, baby.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 9:35 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Man sues gym for a million for all pain no gain

"A Manhattan couch potato who hoped to get into shape for the new year landed in the hospital, thanks to an overzealous personal trainer at Crunch Fitness, according to a $1.1 million lawsuit made public yesterday." From Daily News

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March 20, 2004

SAT 20th MAR : PHILLY BACK STREETS

The Lady and her family left to visit the other Iranian families in the neighborhood (ten of them all day). I was left to wander the streets oh Philly. Here are some of the photos from South Street and 9th Avenue.

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March 19, 2004

MAR 19th: GOOD EGG

"I'm still in the office," I tell the Lady. There's a silence that echoes all the way from Philadelphia. It's the last straw, she must be thinking.

"Don't be silly," I tell her, "I'm in the line waiting to by my Amtrak ticket!" She tells me her family can;t wait but I can;t tell whether she can't either.... (cont.)

I hang 30 minutes in scruffy Penn Station. You can see where they tried to make the place a little more pleasant but it's still full of the types of people who like to hang out at the station: when waiting for a coffee the lady behind the counter asks the tiny guy beside me, "Small black?" "Fuck!" he replies, "Everywhere I motherfucking go..."

I get collected by The Lady and her father. They are both smiling. Everyone has to be poisitve for the New Year! In the suburbs of Philly we eat beautiful white fish with saffron rice and Cornish Chicken. One of the brothers is a little restless due to the volume of red wine he's consumed waiting for his dinner, waiting for me.

At 1.48am we dance and hug and put something sweet in our mouthes. The brother has a bit of a wrestle with his father and younger brother. They tell me about the egg trick: about 10 minutes either side of the equinox you can balance an egg on it's end. I doubt them but try, fail, try, fail, think 'this is just my luck', try - bloody hell it works:

Good Egg Trick By Guy Brighton

!!!

Good signs for a good new year.

HAPPY PERSIAN NEW YEAR Y'ALL

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March 18, 2004

THUR 18th MAR: PREPARING FOR A NEW YEAR

Andrew gives me a call and we decide to go and have a quick pint after work. Nothing too crazy. I promised to be home early to help clean the apartment as is tradition for Persian New Year on Friday night. The Lady is at a friend's eating Korean so I don't feel the rush.

Andrew and I meet in the pub opposite the store of the company where he was made redundant from on Tuesday (Tommy Hilfiger) . Maybe not the best choice of bars. There's something going on down at Tribeca Grand: Heavy.com is relaunching with a Sky vodka free bar between 8 and 9. It's quiet as we turn up but remembering how things changed at that other bar on top of Soho House NY the other week; we order two each. Now a little conscious that 'Double fisting' is not an admired sport in this town, Andrew and I shuffle over the to the corner to hide away our second drinks. From there we can admire DJ El - and, boy, there's a lot to admire. The mixing may not be world class, but who cares from where we're standing.

The room fill soon with (mainly) white hip-hop boys and girls and a few fashion types. Not really 'fills' - it gets rammed. The music's bumping and it feels good to be with a tribe for once: moody, attitude, absorbed. A couple of lads look like they're wearing school uniform. I don't think I could fit in mine anymore. Andrew certainly couldn't.

The bar closes just as I get to the front for a third. Of course, we leave and Andrew suggests we call it a night. I say 'just another one' - of course he agrees and we even phone our girlfriends to tell them what we're doing - wow, we're getting well trained.

We take a stroll and have a poor pint of Stella at a 'jazz bar' close to the Grand. The jazz had finished (it was just past 9!) and when I ask the barman to top up the beer because of the large head he looks at me as if I was cheap. This will be the last one, I promise myself. Then Andrew gets a call. There's something happening at a place opposite Samba Sushi in the Village. Fancy it?

Well it's on the way home. It won't hurt. It's a walk and we enter a restaurant squashed into a triangular parcel of land. It seems they are drumming up custom by turning the place over to a DJ on a Thursday every month. I talk to a Hong Kong-American girl. We talk about immigration; I talk about my girlfriend. Oh, my girlfriend! Heineken down my gob, I say my goodbyes and rush home only to be distracted by an empty stomach. What can you do at this time of night but detour to get a Gyro....

Somehow it's 11.30 when I get home but I can't understand that as I have had so little to drink. The Lady is at home. Oh my god! I can't even make a lame attempt at waking up the neighbours by vacuuming the living room! The place is filthy, she accuses me.

Back to square one.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:34 PM | Comments (0)

BOOKS IN 25 WORDS

How's this for a reference guide: http://ilx.wh3rd.net/thread.php?msgid=4328588

Posted by Guy Brighton at 3:34 PM | Comments (0)

THUR 18th MAR: OMAROSA NO LONGER WANTS TO BE AN APPRENTICE

The lady with a name like a pudding who was on the show about Trump I watched before the weather got better now wants to become a senator! Read more at New Yorkish.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 2:09 PM | Comments (0)

March 17, 2004

WED 17th MAR: VON CURRY

The Lady joins me and her cousin at Von. I was a little unaware at how St Patrick's Day fever sweeps the younger, fratty crowd and not wanting to pay the cover at the Irish Bar Swifts has led me to one of my favourite bars - thankfully. The Lady hasn't seen her cousin for a while and he's good humored enough to bring The Lady into good mood. She suggests food - I suggest curry. The cousin agrees. One more pint of black gold for the road. The Lady tells me on the way back from the bar that I shouldn't spend my money like this : but I am saved: the barman bought me a drink or two. Well done, Von.

The curry house adds to the harmony of the evening: crappy, tacky decor and badly suited waiters reminds me of home - actually a night in Camden when I worked at Tony Stone Images on Bayham Street - when Jason, Diz and a whole gang of us went for a curry after the pub. I am amazed at how thoughts trickle back sometimes.

The toilets are appalling - so right on theme there. Mainly due to the square headed, square bodied 40-something jock who staggers out of it reeling from side to side as if he's on a boat. He pulls down a coat stand as the green Mardi-Gra beads around his neck snags on a hook. When I return to our table I catch a look at his table. He sits there swaying back and forward trying to stretch his eyes open to focus on the menu. His girlfriend wears beads too but these are not as obvious as the green flashing shamrocks dangling from her lobes. Her son sits opposite: an NYU guy probably. Weedy but clever; sat in glasses. Squareman probably thinks he's a homo. Homo probably resents the fact Squareman touches his mother's skin. I pity Homo's girlfriend. She's different: dark as if she's Jewish or Italian and sober. The pissheads must have come into town for the Parade and Flashing-Shamrocks must have pleaded with Squareman that they atleast have dinner with her son. The poor son has consequently dragged out his new girlfriend. Bad move. She looks uncomfortable but I wish she'd sit back and enjoy the ride like I am: Squareman is now gripping the sides of the table as he looks down at the floor beside them at the Popadoms and accompaniments lying on the floor. He shrugs his shoulders, lifts his head and knocks the plate rice from the hand of the recently arrived waiter. The waiter makes no expression as if he's seen this 100 times before. Maybe, he's been trained in Camden?

At home the Lady and I were closer. We watched the great Pieces of April from her bead. She enjoyed it so much we stayed up and talked about the film. We tried to talk about us, but it was awkward and difficult. Tomorrow, maybe.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:09 PM | Comments (0)

OFFICIAL HOT PRODUCT LIST

errr.... from a small poll of folk in London and New York. Your comments??

>> Mini IPod
>>Smartphones / Blackberry (the new blue one) / new nokia phone ( textile covers)
>>WiFi
>>New DVD technology: HD DVD and Blue Light DVD & DVD Audio discs and Super Audio CDs.
>>Tivo
>>Satellite radio
>>Lily Pulitzer
>>Anti-cellulite shoes
>>Todd Oldham designs at La-Z-Boy
>>Plasma TV
>>Blueberry
>>World’s smallest disk drive
>>Micro-Apartments: 'cubes' for city living.
>>Garden Claw

Posted by Guy Brighton at 12:20 PM | Comments (0)

WED 17th MAR: CELEBRATE ANOTHER GREAT BRIT

It feels fine that the world today celebrates another great Brit : St. Patrick.

...ok, ok, so he had a Roman nose and had a wee accent ....

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March 16, 2004

TUE 16th MAR: HEAD DOWN

I return from work. Maybe too happy from the frivolity of my post-blogs earlier in the day. It's late. I stayed back in a vain attempt to find email addresses of Hollywood Agents to send my script: Ralph Five Bellies. With everything else falling down around me (money, working visa, relationship, living arrangements) I have to begin to find new opportunities for myself. They will not come to me. Anyway, it's late - but the Lady's not home. I tidy up a little; fold clothes in a poor imitation of the Benetton Store training the Lady tried to instill in me. I think of home and I think of my parents. I switch on the PC and decide to send some pictures home; quickly. I burn a disk but I need to check all the photos are appropriate. The Lady enters. What am I doing sending a picture of her family to my folks? Why haven't I cleaned the bathroom? Look at this mess.

She gets into bed and watches a bad Net Flix choice: Freaky Friday. I finish up and get into bed too. She ignores me so I watch Jamie Lee Curtis swap bodies with her daughter. I think about that scene in Trading Places when Dan Ackroyd first comes back to her apartment. The Lady is already asleep and I have watched too much to turn the film off now. Pure punishment.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:11 PM | Comments (0)

MUG OF BEER RECOMMENDATIONS

7 Tips from www.manhattanusersguide.com/

1. Blind Tiger Ale House, 518 Hudson [10th] 212.675.3848. Over two dozen draught micros. March 10: 5 on draft from Colorado's New Belgium brewery.
2. Brewsky's, 41 E. 7th [2nd/3rd] 212.420.0671. A dozen on tap, over 170 bottles.
3. Burp Castle, 41 E. 7th [2nd/3rd] 212.982.4576. A dozen on tap, over 170 bottles.
4. d.b.a., 41 1st Ave. [2nd/3rd] 212.475.5097. Over a dozen on draft, plus three hand-drawn cask ales.
5. Ginger Man, 11 E. 36th [5th/Mad] 212.532.3740. Sixty or so brews on tap.
6. Loreley, 7 Rivington [Bowery] 212.253.7077. A dozen German brews on draft, another dozen in bottles. Tasting March 19th of special German beers, plus full dinner.
7. Waterfront Ale House, 540 2nd [30th] 212.696.4104 and 155 Atlantic [Clinton/Henry] 718.522.3794. Twenty on tap.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 4:16 PM | Comments (0)

YAHOO LAUNCHES SEX SEARCH : YASEXHOO!

....or they let someone else do it.

Sex leading the development of the Internet as per usual

And hey! When I Yahoo! myself my blog comes up fifth in the sauce ranking:http://www.yasexhoo.com

Posted by Guy Brighton at 10:01 AM | Comments (0)

March 15, 2004

MON 15th MAR: POOR THAI FOR FIRST PLACE

The Lady and I tried to repair the weekend's events by trying a Thai on Hudson which will remain nameless. We sat opposite each other and forced our smiles: trying to ignore either the whiff of damp or the fragrant waiter who should have been a Thai Elvis impersonator. The food was limp and unlovingly prepared - despite the chirpy cries of the waiter, "Every-fing Alrigh'?"

In times like this, the Lady always thinks everything is a sign: the manufactured food was a symbol of our relationship. I wish she was concentrating on the eternal optimism of the waiter instead...

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:01 PM | Comments (0)

MON 15th MAR: MORE IMPORTANT NEWS

Nichelle's Newsletter on the closure of one of the best bars in Brooklyn (Halcyon): http://www.nichellenewsletter.blogspot.com/

Posted by Guy Brighton at 2:53 PM | Comments (0)

March 14, 2004

MON 15th MAR: Spain loses its PM

From the Daily Telegraph:

"The election will be remembered as heralding the rise of ‘‘euro isolationism''. Large numbers of Spanish voters succumbed to the delusion that if Mr Aznar, had not lent support to the Anglo-American coalition, then their homeland would be safer............The desire not to take our enemies at face value, in word and deed, is the hallmark of much of contemporary Europe."

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:08 PM | Comments (0)

PHOTOS OF WASHINGTON DC

Images from my recent trip.

Grant Statue, Capitol Hill Washington DC

Everyone's favourite home, Capitol Hill Washington DC

Lincoln Memorial Building in Washington DC

Inside the train station in Washington DC

Posted by Guy Brighton at 10:51 PM | Comments (0)

GETTING SPOTTED IN MANHATTAN.COM

Qayyum Hafeez writes: "I liked your blog and I have added it to my favorite blog list on my website www.manhattan.com. I screened approximately 700 blogs related to New York or by New Yorkers and selected only about 70 of them."

700 websites?? I don't know how he found the time to create the site as well. Good luck to him.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 6:26 PM | Comments (0)

March 13, 2004

SUNDAY 13th MAR: RE-REGRET

It must be time of the year or something: I spent Sunday pleading with The Lady like a slimy toad for her not to chuck me. Yes, the only reason I was in New York was because of her, I pleaded. I promised her that I'll never go with her to a rock gig again (Bowery Ballroom) and drink a decent quantity of Stella and actually do more than nod my head to the music like all the New Yorkers do. Yes - I will not dance, I will not shout out at the band, nor mention in front of her record-co-colleagues that this band is crappier than the first (British Sea Power vs. Kaito) nor will I leap from a moving taxi on the way home then slam the door on her foot and storm away, down the streets of Greenwich Village looking for a small person to have a fight with....

Agreed solution: Alcohol reduction, therapy thingymagigstuff

Posted by Guy Brighton at 8:51 AM | Comments (0)

FRI 12th MAR: QUINTESSENTIALLY BRITISH ART

Had an enjoyable evening at an event held by Quintessentially for the Armory Show on the Hudon River. Conrad Shawcross, Saatchi sometime fave, gave a great interview and Guy here rubbed shoulders with the hoi paloi of the Brit art crowd whilst quaffing the generous quantities of champagne as laid on by Ben Elliot and his gang.

There was one guy at the bar who was making a bit of noise. I looked at him but I couldn't place him: thities, dark hair. "I lived their 6 years and I didn't have one friend," he told a couple of sycophants. Then I remembered: he was the the actor in BBC's mid-nineties hit Game On! The one who had a phobia about going outside and had no mates. Then the actor got replaced by another. The way he was going on, no wonder he hadn't had any mates or any work since that show. Art imitates life imitates art.

MATTHEW MALONE(SEASON 1 ONLY) - BEN CHAPLIN

Posted by Guy Brighton at 8:26 AM | Comments (0)

March 12, 2004

FRI 12th MAR: GONNA GO HOME AND TAKE A PICTURE?

Downer: So I am reeling from information received last night. Saw Phil USA in Moes Bar in Brooklyn. He's just got a new job at AX in Union Square. 'You do know that they're not giving out anymore H1B's until October!' he says. Shit.... So here I am , working for free with a guy to try to get his business off the ground, with a promise of a job when business kicks in, and now he can't hire me. What do I do now?. Go home? Agony.

Online dating gone bad?? Headshots / Beautiful Agony

Upper: People are trying to make a web business from photos and videos of people's expressions when they... erm. http://www.beautifulagony.com/. Joy.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 1:20 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

March 11, 2004

THUR 11th MAR: SMART VIEW NEW YORK CITY

Yahoo have just launched Smart View which lets you check out local services near you with the click of a button.

Something for the lady in my local area.

Something for me in my local area.

Fun just to compare the concentration of Indian versus Mexican versus Italian restaurants. 'Whay's that then??' you think.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 5:15 PM | Comments (0)

OFAH

Rodney: Where was your dad?

Trigger: Oh he died a few years before I was born.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 12:02 PM | Comments (0)

March 10, 2004

TUE 9th MAR: IMPRESSING THE LADIES

So I get chucked out last night, temporarily, as the Lady had her 'dinner club' with a few of her friends. After reading the freebies over a pint or two of Guinness in Old Town bar; I end up having a drink with a guy I know over here called J.R. Bobby Dobbs in Upper West Side at a dive on the corner of 110 and Amsterdam....

We sit at the bar and the chap shows a healthy interest in the girls, especially the bar-maid. Me, I'm watching my pint of Sam Adams going down nicely.

Bobby calls over the barmaid and I can't hear what he's saying but she gives him this gorgeous radiating smile and says, 'that's the nicest thing anyone's said to me in ages'. I sit there; avoid thinking that I've never made a woman smile at me like that; and ask him what he said.

He tells me that he told her that he went to school with Earl C and that if he had known that someone like her was today wearing an old school T Shirt featuring his name and dancing and moving herself around like that he would have been very pleased.'

'Nice thing to say,' I respond.

He says,' Yeah - but the jokes on her'

I say, 'who's Earl C?'

He says, 'Ask Urban Outfitters or whoever made her tee-shirt - cos' I don't know!'

Posted by Guy Brighton at 2:28 PM | Comments (0)

March 9, 2004

TUE 9th MAR: HAPP-NY1-NESS

Am I just a happy soul or should I get worried about my NY1 habit?: I wake up early to check the weather 'on the ones' with Pat on NY1, I sing along to the ad-jingles to We The People and Sleepeasy. I predict that that woman outside the mall is going to say, 'What? Free?!! It must be good!"

I've only been back 2 days.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 11:37 AM | Comments (0)

March 8, 2004

SUN 7th MAR: TAKE OFF TO WHERE?

I woke with a lot of anticipation, mixed feelings and anxiety. I was worried about JFK Immigration, whether the 'job' I had was going to pay, where I was going to keep getting my money from in the meantime, how the Lady and I were going to get on, and about leaving my family and friends.

The day in London was grey, the trains were 'up-the-spout' and I really felt it when I said goodbye to my folks.

But there's something about New York that I have never felt anywhere else. I get in to JFK and breeze Immigration (OK, they went through my bag and I couldn't fit my Parker coat back in the bag after - and the Custom's lady ignored me when I asked if she could sit on my bag...). I decide to Air-Train & A Subway Line it: I can see the city, I can smell the city. With every stop the A Train takes me the more my heart races, the more adrenalin runs through me.

I get off at 14th Street and I'm arching my neck up at now-familiar buildings. The yellow cabs drive past me and I feel part of the city.... even contributing to the city.

And of course: I see the lady. She opens her front door and she brings so much colour to my monotone blues.

I have lovely 'London' style gastropub dinner with her at The Spotted Pig.

I go to bed happy and warm.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 5:23 PM | Comments (0)

March 6, 2004

SAT 6th MAR: FINAL SATURDAY

Saturday was my final full day in the UK. I had to decide between going out with friends or hanging with my mum in the evening. I decided to go and watch the rugby in Soho in the afternoon - but got sent to Finsbury Park instead. I told everyone I was going home early but of course I got my arm twisted after the game ended (about 5pm) to go to into Soho for a night out at Freedom bar.

I ummed and arred and said I'll go for one more - altho' I was sure I'd stay all night. Thankfully the decision was made for me: I turned up to see 300 sweaty people in the basement of once gay bar Freedom girating, supping bottles of water and seemingly having the times of their lives - at 6.45pm!! No biscuits for me today thank you.

An evening in with mum and Parkinson on the TV. Perfect.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 4:48 PM | Comments (0)

March 5, 2004

FRI 5th MAR: BLOG CHECK

So I have had a little time on my hands - waiting for the flight back to NYC on Sunday. So I had a look around the blog directories for some interesting blogs (hey - if you can't wait for people to read your own rubbish/trash, then go and read someone else's!)

For some sub-concious reason my search was on 'New York' and 'British' or 'English'. After a good look 2 blogs I can really recommend to you folks are The Donut Girl and Felix & Rhian - one of whom isn't British and one of whom is actually living in Antartica....

On another tack: Also check out Leah's site which is great fun - if only for her top 100.

Post blog post: OK. OK. So I found another: www.newyorkish.com. Guy.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 12:45 PM | Comments (0)

FRI 5th MAR: IMMIGRATION AGAIN

I am currently mentally preparing myself for the questioning at EWR airport on Sunday. You hear so many stories of guys being sent home that I get worried about the prospect.

Anyway, at least I won't behave like this fool - Samantha Marson who told customs that she had three bombs in her bags at Miami International - 3 times. She obviously didn't read my tips on entering the USA. The story is a couple months old but as I returned home, I have only just heard about this. It is just shocking someone is so plain stupid - yeah, I can see someone say it once - but we all know how those guys on Customs like to play it macho - surely no-one would dare to joke twice more?? It's like going to a police station and telling them I have a gun in my pocket.

Posted by Guy Brighton at 8:33 AM | Comments (0)

March 4, 2004

THUR 4th MAR: BEARING MY CHEST, LOSING MY SOUL

I wake up in the morning and I'm lost. It's not my parent's house, it's not the Lady's New York apartment. From the sofa, I see the three hundred My Little Ponies and various barbie dolls: it's my thirty eight year old sister's flat in Westminster.

The stinging headache kicks in and I remember sitting outside my sister's front door for about an hour last night waiting for her to come home. She had to shake me awake - very little came out of my mouth that made sense. I just waited patiently for her to find a duvet and the next thing is - I awake this morning to feel like this....

It's 11 o'clock already. I wonder how on earth the others from the Market Bar last night got to work this morning. I am already fully clothed so I de-horizontalize myself and stumble to the front door. I remember the Harrods bag with goodies that a friend gave me to bring to the Lady in New York. I find it: Although a little crumpled, somehow it has survived and there is nothing leaking from it.

Soon I am walking along the street, my parker coat wrapped under one arm, the Harrods bag swinging from the other. The hair on one side of my head is matted down in the wrong direction and on the other it is spiked up - and that's just my beard.

At Victoria station a woman in a nice uniform hands me a flyer and shows me the way onto a bus. Did you know the London Big Bus tour only takes one hour twenty two minutes? Enough time for some extra shut eye.

I get off and thank the helpful lady and head for my intended destination. On the train I read the text messages of the battle I had with the friend I fell out with when we stumbled into Atlantic Bar at 1am. Did you know it's still open? It is also a long walk from Victoria Station - especially to find the station closed in the middle of the night for engineering works. The exact reason for the fall out is now a mystery and regrets set in.

At East Croydon station I realise that this is the fourth time this fortnight that I have come home looking like this. When will I grow up? I hope I don't meet an old school friend.

As the train to Caterham pulls in I hear, 'Brighton!'. I look round - it's Mr. Armstrong, my old maniac geography teacher from when I was doing my A-Levels. He looks the same except now grey. He travels with me unimpressed or maybe disbelieving my talk of living in New York. Academics only respect academics I conclude. He talks of boys from my era that I cannot remember; boys who still live locally but are some way connected to the Old Boys sporting association.

At the station he offers me a lift. The radio plays REM's 'Losing My Religion'. He drops me off at my house and I feel that I am 13 again and I've met a teacher during summer holidays. I must stop wearing hoodies and jeans and wear something else: jackets with leather elbow patches perhaps. Good bye Mr. Armstrong.

My parents are pleased to see me but I have to tell them that I'll speak later. I try to sleep but I get the fear. There's a pain in my chest that I've had since I went to (old) York and I can see the blocked valve in my heart everytime I close my eyes.

I decide to drag my self back to Croydon to a walk-in medical centre. Good old NHS.

On the bus there a guy sat behind me starts playing a game with his phone. Sound on full. When I ask if he can turn it down, he actually apologizes and turns the phone off!

Is it always the way??: whenever you go see the doctor you also happen to have been living the most unhealthy week of your life. To the nurse I describe the night before - minus the drama - and my intake of alcohol, cigarettes etc since I came to London. I become a leper - I think, if only they could read my blog they'll know that I didn't enjoy smoking so much...

When I take my top off, the nurse has trouble working out how to use the EPG machine but finally with the help of four others it's running. I feel like one of those Trekkie borgs and my blood is already running high. 'Hmmm,' she hums and then goes and consults the results with the rest of the clinic. The conclusion is that if in doubt I should pop along to the hospital to get fully tested.

I say - ok, I'll get may jacket. She stops me getting up: no, you can't go upstairs - you have chest pains. Two minutes later a paramedic walks through the door in full regalia. I get the full review about my social life - this time I am forced to admit the ten pints of Guinness, three bottles of pilsner lager, five jack and cokes and a glass of pink champagne I had last night. I decide not to mention the half of Guinness I had with my dad at the Cutty Sark pub on the river in Greenwich during the day.

Two more minutes later two ambulance women tough enough to be police officers walk into the room. I have to explain my social life to them too - luckily I am now well rehearsed. They try to make me feel bad for my behaviour but I look at them and I know they must have a good drink to relieve the pressure. A chair with wheels appears and I am asked to sit in it. It's OK, I'll just walk there. Oh no - there are rules now. I sit in it - they put a red grand-dad's blanket on me and strap me in - so I don't hurt my arms. As I am wheeled out, the ladies on reception look down at me horrified. They must be thinking, 'I know he stunk of alcohol but...'

In the ambulance they run another EPG. People ogle through the back door at all the leads connected to my naked torso. Then I am strapped in more and the blue lights go on, the siren sounds and we dash through the streets of Croydon towards Mayday Hosipital. 'Isn't this little dramatic?', I ask. But rules are rules. I imagine that we go over a lot of pavements and curbs and avoid the odd pedestrian. The driver swears at the traffic like a miner in a Geordie pub after work.

At A&E I get the old ER treatment and get banged through into the emergency ward. A kind nurse asks about my social life again as another one sticks some sort of straw in arm. I think of saying, 'oi nurse, stop giving me the needle'.

For twenty minutes I seem centre of attention. The doctor is sweet but frowns when I say that I have been away from my girlfriend and thus been out and about a bit.

The hospital's EPG comes back and says I'm clear. Getting dumped is quick here. I get shunted out into the public ward to lie alongside the old and the drunk whilst I wait three hours for my blood results. I look up at my reflection in the black glass dome of a 'hidden' camera in the dusty poly-tiled ceiling and I think, 'this is what it's going to look like when I die'.

It's hard to feel depressed for too long in a hospital becuase it is a tropical region of love. The staff are all in love with each other and the patients are all in love with the doctors and especially the nurses. What makes you fall in love with all the nurses around you? You think everyone of them are so wonderful, so kind. I feel sad for the constant flow of old people coming in altho it helps me stand out a bit in front of the nurses. Or maybe it is the hairy chest and small pot belly.

The blood test is fine. I've been there so long I fail to be relieved and I am discharged before I even get to discuss what alternative reason there may be for the pain in my chest.

Thanks to the ambulance ride, I have to ask the receptionist 'where am I?' She gives me a kind smile and says in slow English, 'It's OK dear. Would like to see a doctor?'