counting backwards

Sandwich, Do What You Will

Waiting for the S79 back to Staten Island at 86th Street and 4th Avenue, I walked into a deli/grocer to buy a half-gallon of milk and a sandwich.

I asked for what I always ask for at small deli sandwich counters: chicken cutlet on a roll with lettuce and mayo. I guess I’m a creature of habit. But there’s something about the breaded chicken cutlets at small deli sandwich counters that makes my mouth water. In fact, as I type this, my stomach is growling.

In any case, it’s a simple order, but you’d be surprised how often it gets messed up. I guess the way I say “mayo” makes people think “tomato,” because I always end up picking a few of them out of my meal (I don’t ever send anything back, I figure I was just fated to eat the thing as is).

When I got my sandwich, I walked back outside toward the bus stop. I barely reached the intersection before I was tearing into the warm, wax paper-wrapped bundle.

It wasn’t the sandwich I’d ordered. The chicken cutlets were there, piled three thick, but the lettuce was not. Instead there were tomatoes—or something resembling tomatoes—lacquered in mayo, and cheese, which looked and tasted like Muenster.

Of course, I ate it anyway. And it was good. In fact, as good if not better than any of the correctly prepared chicken cutlet sandwiches I’ve ordered over the years. Maybe the sandwich maker just misheard me, but maybe he just knew better. And who am I to argue with destiny?

Jameson, A Love Story

The newly opened Double Windsor in Park Slope serves Jameson on the rocks in bucket-sized glasses for a reasonable price. If this is how they like to attract customers, I’d say they’re doing a damn fine job.

Here’s to a blurry Rocktober.

Sunn O))) at Brooklyn Masonic Temple | Beyond Race

I built this show up to mythic proportions in my mind. I’m not sure why. I find drone metal boring in most cases, but I couldn’t wait to see Sunn O))). I was looking for a unique experience. Their performance was definitely like nothing I’d ever experienced. Their music had such an intimidating physicality about it. But the theatrics were a bit much. I mean, I get it. You’re creepy, and the first five minutes of deep chanting and fog machine got under my skin. After a half an hour of it, I almost left out of boredom. Still, black metal legend Attila Csihar was unreal; like a living nightmare.

I really loved the show, but I actually wanted to have more of a visceral reaction to it. I wanted to either fall into a trance or run out of the room screaming in tongues and vomiting. I guess that’s a pretty tall order, though.

The Zeros and Jemina Pearl @ Southpaw | Beyond Race

I wish I had one of them fancy cameras everyone else on Tumblr seems to have. One day. In the meantime, I’ll be taking blurry photos and trying not to look like a dork as I jot down notes at rock shows in the New York area. This is only the third concert review I’ve written in the past 5 years, so I know I’m rusty, but this one gave me hope that I might be headed in the right direction.

This show was a blast. I’m ashamed to say that I wasn’t that familiar with The Zeros, before Tuesday, but they really wound up the crowd. Jemina Pearl is a lot of fun to watch also—very expressive. Good times at Southpaw on a lovely night in Park Slope.

Lame Pony Rides

Outside the Feast of Santa Rosalia (I think that’s what it was called) on 18th Ave. in Brooklyn, a father watched as his daughter rode one of those coin operated mechanical horses. It whirred and shook and rocked in the most unimpressive manner imaginable. The father watched glumly. The daughter looked like she was having a remarkable time.

I remembered a time I rode a similar contraption. It was parked outside of a Shop Rite, as is often the case, but instead of a horse, it was fashioned in the shape of a dragon, which is my second favorite creature—real or imagined—ranked just behind narwhals. I begged for a quarter to ride the thing and ignored my parents’ warnings that I’d be disappointed. Eventually they cracked, and I got a quarter.

The ride was brief and unsatisfying. It shook and shimmied, and I think a warped soundtrack accompanied its gimpy movements. Nevertheless, I convinced myself that the experience was an enjoyable one. I sat with the dragon long after the ride was over, because it looked so cool, and was so brightly painted. It was designed to amuse, and I couldn’t blame it for not having much to work with.