Come Copy Me: Copycat Night at Otto's

A lot of things have kept me in after my nights in the salt mines: morning job interviews, morning angst, general unease, but last night I went out to Otto's Shrunken Head, a mangy yet adorable bar with a back room for rock and roll, situated on the eastern heel of 14th St. (And also the site of my baby shower almost 17 years ago--I had a live dj spinning only songs containing the word "baby." There are a LOT, you know.)

Late night coffee shop

Left work at 9 pm, and made my way up the 1st Avenue bike lane instead of continuing on home. I was starving, so checked out an Avenue B coffee shop--still open at 10 pm (because the back room becomes a bar featuring a fireplace with glowing fake log) and picked up a mozzarella sandwich that the bald but luxuriously bearded barrista offered to drizzle with balsamic. He actually said, "Do you want me to drizzle this with balsamic?" So much energy at 10 pm. I stood out on the sidewalk, eating, making crumbs for rats and vermin. My bike locked up under a streetlight on B, I was heartened I got carded at the door at Otto's, which tonight was featuring bands participating in the bi-weekly eight-year long Copycat cover series. (I've so far only attended the Kinks' installment.)

Otto's has a photo booth.

Tonight was New Wave night--and I'm already getting neurotic by how much text I'm generating here--so I'll make this short. The thing I love about NYC is that I can be a middle-aged woman alone--a mom, even--out late on a week night, and I'm invisible in a good way. I fit in. No one cares. At least I like to think so.

Probably not.

Michael T's band went on first. Michael T might be as old as me: he's an androgynous, flamboyant front man, who does a lot of the Bryan Ferry segments in the performance arty tribute thing he belongs to: Kate Loves Bryan. (See video above!) He also has his own band called the Vanities. Tonight, he and his band covered The Cars, Blondie, Bowie, Ramones, Vapors--and Michael T provided necessary context and metadata.

I stayed an hour, bike down Ave B at eleven. Did not see any rats.

My fellow late night, mid-weekers

performing for the camera

crushing on my new sandals & all the concrete in this structure

on our last day in arizona, c. and i had a little outing to meegs (i.e. mi amigos) for seafood tostadas, guacamole a la mesa, tortilla soup, red chile enchiladas, and limeade.

then we went to tempe and visited the arizona state university art museum.  this is a little gem of a museum.  i love the scale of the place--not too big or crowded and constructed in an interesting under/above ground design using mostly concrete.

i don't know what my problem is, but i have a hard time spending a long time in one museum.  90 minutes is max for me, an hour leaves me wanting just a little more, but happy to go still.  when we lived in nyc, i used to visit the met frequently & in short bursts.

this place you can do thoroughly in an hour.

birthday cake building

we spent most of our time in two exhibits.  the first was called "performing for the camera" and was an exhibit of staged/performative photography.  there were a couple of really moving pieces in there (and a SUPER ugly--on purpose, i'm sure--cindy sherman).  one series i loved was by spencer tunick--large scale crowds of nude people.  my favorite was a photo shot in flanders of the backs of nude figures lying on their sides with their legs all pointed in the same direction.  it made me think wow--how could the same species be so diverse?  everyone has basically the same equipment, but so many different varieties.  maybe that's not so profound, but it was striking at the moment.

miracle stories gallery

yasumasa morimura as jodie foster

then there were some self-portraits by yasumasa morimura as catherine denueuve, bridgette bardot, and frida khalo. he's way rad.

another exhibit featrured video monitors and sound recordings of people telling stories of miracles.  the videos recorded only the speakers' hands, and you couldn't tell which hands went with which voice, or really distinguish the different speakers unless you chose to wear the headphones dotted around the room to hone in on one of the stories.  in one story, a woman told of her husband wrestling a demon in a dream trying to protect her, and the next morning when she woke up, a large tumor that had been on her face for thirteen years had disappeared.  another girl told about her dog getting hit by a truck, then coming back to life.

both exhibits were thought provoking in that both had a strong bent towards illuminating the threads that bind, rather than divide, humanity.  i guess i'm gettin' all soft in my old age.  it was a happy thought upon leaving the gallery that we have more in common than we do differences.

i went to the music building, right next to the gallery, where i studied violin for three years as a teen and used to practice in the practice rooms.  the building is nicknamed "the birthday cake" for obvious reasons.

it's also thought provoking to remember your much younger self, right? visits home will make you do this, sometimes painfully.  as we're taught to do in yoga, i worked on observing those thoughts about my younger self and trying not to judge her, resent her, harsh on her, or wish she'd been different.  i've gotten a little better at that over the years.

how do you feel about your younger self?

looking forward: to my own bed.

inspiration:  similarities, not difference

legwear: i kinda have a crush on my new sandals