All Roads Lead to Corner Bistro (& 94th Street)

Just home. This was an unexpectedly long night.

I thought we'd be spending time in and around Union Square capped off by another night of gustatory confabulation, but affairs of the heart trump food cravings so we stayed in the UWS and had sushi. (I know, me and sushi, what world is this?) CS joined us at the end of dinner and we wandered around the neighborhood. I was enjoying the music which seemed not unlike the sets heard at my old high school dances, when I innocently suggested an alternative venue. CS became very determined and we trudged all the way down for a dancing good time. But there would be no dancing. I really wanted to dance, I was also completely exhausted. I could barely stand at the next no-name bar in hell, but we somehow managed to score a ride on a jet plane or something. Getting out into the stale night air with the clicky-clak of ill-shod women (on cobblestones) all around, I felt pangs of hunger and steered our group to the Corner Bistro. It ended up being a mini-high school reunion of sorts when I recognized little brother David ('93), Erica ('93), Jeff ('97) & late arrival MaryAnn ('95). We also shared our booth with K-van and L-sey. She was really cute, it's too bad she didn't speak more German, I could've asked her out right in front of her boyfriend.

Evil Dead

I got a text message in the afternoon. Would I like to see Evil Dead (the musical) tonight? Yes ma'am!

Champagne & Ragu Redux

Went to another performance of Rigoletto last night, this time at the Met. But it was chilly just like the last time I heard Rigoletto. Sometimes hearing those beautiful songs of love and betrayal are almost too much to bear, but any feelings of melancholy were allayed by all the champagne before and during the performance.

The best part of the evening, or at least the part that generated a fist-pumping celebration, was during the beginning of Act III. I'd wagered that the audience might break out into smatterings of applause when the Duke began his famous La donna è mobile (A woman is fickle) aria, V thought otherwise. A tasty morsel from Dom's was at stake!

I lost the bet, but my friend's wide, easy smile and look of joy were my consolation prize.

I'm Killing

Went to Carnegie Hall tonight, to see Josh Bell. He would be performing the Brahms Violin Concerto, but we'd have to wait until after the intermission to hear it. I knew it was the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra tonight, but I wasn't sure about the conductor. Looked inside the Playbill and noted that tonight's conductor was Sir Andrew Davis. I turned to V and said something like, "Is he Sir Colin Davis's brother?" She replied, "I was just about to say that." (I win, this one time, I actually win!) So far that was the highlight of my night. (Though the free booze and MarieBelle chocolates at our pre-concert stop weren't bad either.) But there's more, because tonight I was killing. After the Coriolan Overture was finished, there was a brief pause while additional musicians piled onto the stage for the next piece, Sofia Gubaidulina's Feast During a Plague. There were at least four percussionists on stage, not including the pianist or the two harpists. I cracked, "What is this Mahler?" and the woman to my left thought it was pretty funny. I would've walked out right there (to leave on a high note), but the music was about to start again and I still had to stick around to retrieve my new baby.