In the past week, I've been asked by three different women, on three different occasions, if I was a model. One went so far as to call me "totally modelistic." While I'd like to let this attention go to my head, one thing prevents me from being able to do so. That’s because they were all completely hammered when they paid me the compliment. Oh well, I'll take what I can get.
Here are two pictures from last Thursday night. The first features some of indie film’s finest: Matt Dentler, Brian Brooks, and Eugene Hernandez…
This is Louis Schefano. Too bad you weren’t at Galapagos to experience the world’s greatest living songwriter. www.myspace.com/lou-is
On Saturday, I was a good boy and blocked out the world in order to write-write-write. The new-and-improved PING-PONG SUMMER is almost finished. But I said I wouldn’t talk about that stuff anymore, so I’ll leave it at that.
Yesterday brought another magical New York City wedding. This time, it was my good buddy James Dawson and his amazing wife Ruby. During the reception, something funny happened. My friends Dan Busch and Ed Cusati magically morphed into the coolest band ever. I don’t know their name and they haven’t written any actual music, but based on these pictures alone, I think it’s safe to call them this century’s answer to Hall & Oates. Actually, the pics are reminiscent of the artwork to Sammy’s “Tales of Great Neck Glory,” which is an unsung classic from the ‘90s. Rediscover that one while you’re at it.
I’ll leave you with today’s quote of the day, from the esteemed Matthew Ross:
“There’s no loathing like self loathing.”