Saturday, March 6, 2010

God Street Wine - Grown Up? No. Just Grandma.

"Love can be crazy/Love can be cruel/but I'd rather die a sinner/than a holy fool."-God Street Wine

Grandma Bavosa, may you "sleep in the stars..." I love you. Thanks for raising the best son, who became my DAD of all time. I'll miss you.

Funny how in '09 for JamBase and other mags, websites, and holy shit-verbally--I spewed thousands, if not GABILLIONS of words, tonight, I'm at a loss for any, where only a glass of red wine can suffice, melded with a tear in my eye.

Now, we march on.

This past Christmas, I decided to stay at my Aunt Carol's. It's the same picture from the past oh, 25, or so years, but THIS year, 2009, I did the GROWN UP thing, and --STAYED. Realizing that it might have been THE last Christmas with her. Well, it turned out to be the case. First, I hurt for my Dad. You rock, my man. Thanks for taking me to see Jerry, although I snuck out with the Lizzo's to see 7.13.94, a RIDICULOUSLY epic PHISH show-know them, ha!--nowadays. (That makes me sooooo much cooler than my friends. They hate me for it, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE you for it, bcause I'm that much cooler for it). Love. Second, I thank my Grandma, who on that Christmas night, relayed some stories that my dad had previously tried to keep under lock-n;key became revealed. In other words, as much as I like to think I am a rebel in the fam, I wasn't the first. Now, I realize my grandma was the one the start that trend.

While many will say she passed away of a broken heart missing my Grandpa from a year or two ago, she was the most resilient, stuborn, best-meatball-cooking-Grandma, this side of God STreet Wine Westchester ever knew...

..and it's funny that the GSW website renews itself on the eve (3/4/10), that she decides to not throw in the towel, but rather pass on the torch to, well, US.

So, tonight, this bottle of red WINE, yes, ironic, but true, is to you Olive, and thanks or the dirt on my Dad this past Christmas. It's priceless, you know.

You will be missed, I hope you playing slots in heaven with Grandpa, after he shoots a 72 playing golf. Erin and I love you guys. Thanks for raising the best Dad, Aunt, and ridiculously funny uncle of all time.


Your long-haired (yes, still) Grandson.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Friday, March 14, 2008

Thank You Meester Minor...

RIP Martin.

As I sit here, alone in my apartment in NYC on a rainy Friday night, my mind does what it does best: think, ponder, and reminisce. Reminisce about a simpler time, the dinner with my girl and moms digesting in my belly, and the music that has been the single constant in MY life (much like Desmond Hume in LOST).

I am normally conscious of my fellow neighbors, but tonight, in sweatpants, I can't help but tap the trigger known as the volume to one that seemingly tries to reach through the stars and straight to heaven...where our good friend -- THE MEESTER -- Martin Fierro, has gone.

If nothing else, his music and corny-ass jokes will live on.

"Cole's Law" is ringing through my ears, as I wallow in the comfort known as life...and music. Probably my favorite sax player *EVER* for the style and grace he exuded, I will always think of Zero bringing me into the "Pits of Thunder" at The Wetlands in the mid-90's, the sit ins with the Steve Kimock Band at the Great American Music Hall in San Fran, and for one more magical visit over the last few years.

Always a humble musician, and more humble human, he will be sorely missed...especially by my ears.

Thanks Meester.

"Be sure to wear Zero underpants."

Friday, January 25, 2008

Sippin' the Sweet Life...

Hornsby. Champagne. The girl you HEART.

Shit feels gooooooooooooooood. Mellow, relaxed, and a maestro on the keys as the wild concrete jungle winds down around me.

After a week that saw me sign on for *MY* first apartment (fuck, better late than never), make over $100,000 at "real" work (a LOT of which is mine), and cut my hair this morning by myself (not a ton, but ENOUGH) in the bathroom since I was SO motivated by this week's events, I can;t help but smile, smile, smile.

I can't help but think for all the bad luck I've had over the years (fuckin' field goals wide left!), this week showed me hard work PAYS-THE-FUCK-OFF. BIG-TIME.

Let me start here : almost 2 years ago, I flat out QUIT my dream job at the editorial side of Rolling Stone. I was a wild-man, filled with the spirit of life, but defeated with the fact that my favorite band, my favorite thing in a lot of ways (School! How many peeps say THAT?!?!?!), and the fact that the family dynamic was changing. As much as i am a (phish) "KID," I never knew what being a "kid" felt like again until the joys of my family's life emerged from the womb. Timmy, Jr., Christian, and Isabella (sorry Matt, but I always think of 12.30.97 = a shade before my newest niece...whoops!), are true miracles.

Life, my friends, is a fickle and funny thing.

Watching them, along with other children open presents on Christmas morning at my house, I, for the first time in my life, realized why parents work so hard all year to get that bonus check -- to see the look on their kids' faces. It is, in a word, simply: PRICELESS.

But, back to my point before I Ramble on (like Rose), there's another thing I'm almost of proud of as my nieces and nephews this week, and it's NOT the $$$$. It's the fact that I will be published in Relix come this April, something I have always wanted (in some ways more than RS, but never thought would make sense.

Well, it does. I learned from my 6th grade science teacher to "always stick by your guns." Well, my guns have taken me from New Rochelle, across the wonerdrful U.S. of A. severla times in chase of Hemingway, Hunter S. Thompson, and the constant high, only to land me back home where I truly belong; where my blood runs deep : NYC.

So, on this Friday night, which once used to be the biggest concert, pu$$y, and beer night of the week, I am comfortable sitting by the Bose iPod contraption that produces such amazing sounds, sippin' my bubbly, watching my girl make guacamole, smile, and realizing that the pen is much mightier than the sword (but not the guitar).

Thanks and love to you all...


Sunday, December 2, 2007

Not Gonna Catch the Midnight Rambler...

Every once in a while, the ritual of going to witness live music--yes, again and again, over and over--pays off in ways so profound and spiritual when you least expect it.

Levon Helm
, most notably of The Band fame, helped eight of my friends and I experience just such a night.

Probably one of the most intimate, and homey nights of music I have ever been a part of, it was tough to put into words, but I tried. Mixing classic Band tunes with selections from his first solo offeort in over 25 years, Dirt Farmer, Helm still showed his versatility and craftsmanship on the drums. His voice, once almost silented--permanently--from throat cancer was never so sweet to hear. I urge everyone to do is make sure that you witness one of these before you die. Truly magical, and nothing like it, but a must for any fan of Helm and the Band.

As always, you can read about it here : Helm | 11.17 | Woodstock, NY

Owwwwwww-ooh! Werewolves of Braodway...

In the typical Grateful Dead spirit, PHIL LESH and FRIENDS kicked off a ten-night stand on Broadway, at NYC's Nokia Theatre. Iwas lucky enough to catch nine, which saw guests such as Ryan Adams show up for a few nights. My favorites were 11/10, the RA shows, and Halloween for the circus it always in...especially here in the epicenter of the universe of freaks.

Here is my Halloween review for Jambase. I hope it's not too scary!

Woo-hahahahahah!!!! & Friends | 10.31.07 | NYC

Wednesday, November 28, 2007