Social experiment contest again.
I have one extra ticket to go see Atmosphere on Monday, July 27 at Webster Hall. Doors open at 7:00PM. Write an interesting story about yourself, or something to convince me to bring you, and I’ll pick the best one over the weekend to come with me.
I’m a comedian/writer by night, looking for some random experiences. I have done this contest before, when I had an extra ticket to see the Ting Tings (some of you might have even participated in that contest). The contest was actually quite a success, and I got some interesting anecdotes, shitty jokes, and random-ass spew of emails. I thought it was quite Post-Secret-esque and am going to continue doing this. If you think something like this is completely weird in a bad way, we probably wouldn’t have fun anyway. If you think this is strange, though still slightly entertaining, then give it a shot. It’s a cool excuse to meet interesting people. Convince me.
This contest will go on for two weeks. I will make a decision Friday, July 24, and contact you then. This way you have early enough notice to know if you can go on July 27, the following Monday. If you send a late submission, and it’s REEEEALLLY good, it might work.
Now, get writing!
FAQ
What can I write that’s good enough to get your attention?
Funny isn’t always the best answer. Think about it this way: I have yet to receive a story that is a moving drama. You never know. True stories are always good, doesn’t have to be made up.
How do I know you aren’t the Craiglist killer?
Yeah, that fucker is a buzzkill, especially for cool New Yorkers who have always done some interesting takes on meeting people online. Basically, here’s how we’ll do our best to make sure we aren’t freaks (Hey, for all I know, YOU could be the Craigslist killer). We’d be meeting in completely public places. I’d meet you at Webster Hall. There will be no “coming back to my place for a creepy massage and then I hack you with a machete” going on.
I am already your friend and know you. Can I win?
No.
Filed under: audio, great finds, recommendations | Tags: babies, Irked Minions, music, Ratatat, Rick Lucy, White Town, Your Woman
You trust me to send you the best musical discoveries.
You trust me to hold your babies.
You trust me to give you Rick Lucy – Irked Minions.
Think White Town’s Your Woman laid on a hot Ratatat track.
Filed under: recommendations, stand-up journal, video | Tags: drink, entertainment, fr.og, France Origine, headliner, Her Space Holiday, Lafayette, music, riff, song, Spring, stand-up, status
Hanging out at Fr.og (France Origine on Spring/Lafayette) the other night, and the bartender not only introduced a great drink, he was playing some pretty great music. If you’re into the whole Postal Service vibe, check out Her Space Holiday – the song I embedded is called My Girlfriend’s Boyfriend. I’ve been sharing this on my facebook status for the past day, but since I’m gonna update my status soon, I wanted it to have a more permanent spot.
I always watch out for your entertainment, don’t I?
On another note, I’m prepping for my first ten minute set tonight – so anyone who comes out to support me tomorrow will see a first. You’re in for a treat since 2 more minutes (over 8 minutes) gives me some extra time to go on a riff. More on this tomorrow.
I wonder when I’ll ever get a 30 minute set? Headliner? Too much to dream about right now? Maybe. But it’s in the back of my mind.
Filed under: observations | Tags: climax, death, experience, fall, gravity, music, pavement
I strolled along 100 Street near Columbus Avenue, hearing an argument from an apartment building. The moment lead me to imagine the climax of a person flying out the window, dropping to the cement 30 stories below. The sensation of flying must be a wonderful experience. Gravity is a wonderful force. The streets we walk on are a wonderful development of society. Flying out a window plus gravity plus the streets we walk on – probably not so wonderful.
Actually, not so wonderful is a bit of an understatement.
Distressing. Horrid. Dreadful. Probably more appropriate.
But aside from the appropriateness, (which is much more of a secondary issue) what does a 180 pound body crashing into the pavement from 300 feet above sound like?
I imagine it sounds like my heart beating.
It sounds like panic.
It sounds like my saying “Holy fucking shit,” to myself.
I wonder – does he hear the same things? Does he hear his own death at the end? Or is the last thing he hears the split second before he hits the ground?
Music. Music is what he hears all the way down. I don’t mean harmony and notes, exactly – I don’t think the last thing a person does falling to his immediate death is humming One Republic’s “Stop and Stare.” Music as in composition – a composition of the vividness of his memories, the burn from his fleeting emotions. Some will sound like frantic anxiety, some like acquiescent calm. The end theme to his ending credits. The transition that flows directly to the other side. The score that no one else can ever describe. Simply, music.
