Monthly Archives: August 2004

Press is hot. Truth is out. Ready? The two REAL reasons I got a New York zip code have finally culminated in one weekend: 1. Hot 97 and 2. Nas, live and purportedly assisted by my spirit guide Jadakiss, in … Continue reading →

A little note: The other night, on the corner of Seventh Ave. and Eighth St., we met with an industrial-sized dumpster filled with people, looking for free gems like ants on honey. I climbed in after I saw a lady … Continue reading →

M. Night Shyamalan’s Spielberg fetish: so thorough! I really missed Amazing Stories!

Scott Giampino, ex of Touch and Go/The Showbox in Seattle, is one of the nicest people I can think of, so perhaps you might paypal him some dollares to get him, Ali and Max back on their feet: “As most … Continue reading →

Things are all Animal House here on the Slope. Crashing on Steven’s couch with two roommates, which brings the total occupancy to 4. (Four! Mwahhahaha… four! People waiting for the shower at eight am!!) Coffee-deprived grownups say the snottiest things, … Continue reading →

Here is the reason you should start reading the Fader: Elliot Aronow in editorial masthead total non-shocker, like finally. He looks like a young [Bob Dylan] [Sean Penn] [Dustin Hoffman], will make you wait for him on the corner (mysterious), … Continue reading →

So Owen came to play, and it was basically like being in Portland. Owen, who used to live in P-Town but now kicks it in a tour van, is my good friend and one-time intern (if you are a publicist … Continue reading →

In the simplest terms, I moved to NYC to get my ass kicked. Tonight, after a run-in with Terror Squad and a woman named Jennifer, my calves and arches went with it. She is like, level four Andre from Dance … Continue reading →