bugs bunny and the alibi...
well, here we are.
the alibi. for those of you who don't know what the alibi is, it is a closet posing as a bar in historic murray hill. i have physically been in the alibi once, several years ago for a shed scene (truckasaurus, american gladiator x, grabbag, etc....) concert. i was maybe all of 18 and payed little attention to the place. however, lately, as the least likely of likely people have been making regular trips there, it's name has been coming up in conversation just as regularly. like the charming and typical anecdote (now stop me if you've heard this one) about the topless barwench (+50) with pasties made of duct tape. i know. well, despite the few invites i've received to haunt there, i have yet to make a visit. actually as i've declined in the past, i will continue to decline and this is why.... recently, with my interest in real estate, i was looking at a retail rental on edgewood. the walk through was set up with the landlord who put me in contact with the contractor who was staying in the space while finishing the rebuild on it. he was a mid forties contractor who's skin looked like a petrified tree stump in some remote desert and i was tempted to introduce him to a toothbrush as his teeth looked like a snowglobe relief of stone henge. for the purpose of the story we will call him doc(d.o.c- dirty old contractor) doc let me in to the building and told me to feel free to show myself around and "holler" if i needed anything. i nodded and began my tour which took me to the small storage room that housed the air handler. a small set of narrow stairs led to the air unit which rested on a small landing. at that exact moment, as i walked up the stairs, i can not recall what my thoughts were. but i can tell you what they were not, they were not "oh, i will walk up this stairway and almost fall back down the stairs because i will be getting ready to set my hand down on a marble tile from the bathroom with about 40 lines of cocaine cut on it and then try to get the fuck out of this place as fast as i can because i am in fucking shock." i wasn't thinking that but that is exactly what happened. i politely said thanks to doc and then hurried out but not before he mentioned that if i got the space he would be more than happy to help me build it to suit my needs. so i then asked him, playing it cool, if he had a card or a number where i could get in touch with him. he said that if i needed him, i should go to the alibi and ask for "doc". i gestured that i understood and then went out the door and sped home to hide under my covers where i remained for the rest of the week. needless to say i haven't been back to the property and probably never will. now i don't want anyone to think i'm some sort of prude. i have party habits and i know that everyone else has them too. if that guy does forty lines of cocaine a night, more power to him... i just don't want to know it. the crux of this story is simply i don't go to the alibi. however, if you choose to go there give a "what's up?" to doc, that is if the guy is still alive. and that is all there is to it.
a note to those of you with double residency here at live journal and at myspace, look up my band, DANG! we have a page and some songs. beautiful!
and in other news, i love my girlfriend. she blows my mind on a daily basis. look for your invitations to the wedding by post shortly.
on to the next piece of business for the night, the holidays are here again. i'm as excited as a contractor with forty lines of coke! can i get a second for that motion?
hoorah!!!!
well that's all the time we have. tune in for our next installment, same standard place, same standard time,
clinton / gore 94'
the alibi. for those of you who don't know what the alibi is, it is a closet posing as a bar in historic murray hill. i have physically been in the alibi once, several years ago for a shed scene (truckasaurus, american gladiator x, grabbag, etc....) concert. i was maybe all of 18 and payed little attention to the place. however, lately, as the least likely of likely people have been making regular trips there, it's name has been coming up in conversation just as regularly. like the charming and typical anecdote (now stop me if you've heard this one) about the topless barwench (+50) with pasties made of duct tape. i know. well, despite the few invites i've received to haunt there, i have yet to make a visit. actually as i've declined in the past, i will continue to decline and this is why.... recently, with my interest in real estate, i was looking at a retail rental on edgewood. the walk through was set up with the landlord who put me in contact with the contractor who was staying in the space while finishing the rebuild on it. he was a mid forties contractor who's skin looked like a petrified tree stump in some remote desert and i was tempted to introduce him to a toothbrush as his teeth looked like a snowglobe relief of stone henge. for the purpose of the story we will call him doc(d.o.c- dirty old contractor) doc let me in to the building and told me to feel free to show myself around and "holler" if i needed anything. i nodded and began my tour which took me to the small storage room that housed the air handler. a small set of narrow stairs led to the air unit which rested on a small landing. at that exact moment, as i walked up the stairs, i can not recall what my thoughts were. but i can tell you what they were not, they were not "oh, i will walk up this stairway and almost fall back down the stairs because i will be getting ready to set my hand down on a marble tile from the bathroom with about 40 lines of cocaine cut on it and then try to get the fuck out of this place as fast as i can because i am in fucking shock." i wasn't thinking that but that is exactly what happened. i politely said thanks to doc and then hurried out but not before he mentioned that if i got the space he would be more than happy to help me build it to suit my needs. so i then asked him, playing it cool, if he had a card or a number where i could get in touch with him. he said that if i needed him, i should go to the alibi and ask for "doc". i gestured that i understood and then went out the door and sped home to hide under my covers where i remained for the rest of the week. needless to say i haven't been back to the property and probably never will. now i don't want anyone to think i'm some sort of prude. i have party habits and i know that everyone else has them too. if that guy does forty lines of cocaine a night, more power to him... i just don't want to know it. the crux of this story is simply i don't go to the alibi. however, if you choose to go there give a "what's up?" to doc, that is if the guy is still alive. and that is all there is to it.
a note to those of you with double residency here at live journal and at myspace, look up my band, DANG! we have a page and some songs. beautiful!
and in other news, i love my girlfriend. she blows my mind on a daily basis. look for your invitations to the wedding by post shortly.
on to the next piece of business for the night, the holidays are here again. i'm as excited as a contractor with forty lines of coke! can i get a second for that motion?
hoorah!!!!
well that's all the time we have. tune in for our next installment, same standard place, same standard time,
clinton / gore 94'