Guy Brighton's Wishful Thinking

Benny Burritos Puts The Knife In

I already complained to Benny's Burritos of Greenwich Ave by phone this evening about the slop they delivered to me which was supposed to be a Grilled Chicken Salad. Then I noticed all these knife punctures in one side of the tortilla. It's as if they were fkg around with my food before it got delivered.

DJ Dasani

So even the waiters are looking now. The waiters who fifteen minutes earlier were singing happy birthday out of tune are now looking over at the Lady signing the words of a song she's trying to recollect. It's odd to see waiters in suits and ties. Cheap suits, big shoulders, twitching at the Lady's flat notes.

Even the big chubby guy in the corner with the dark bandana who's been speaking as if he's just left Don Hills at 3am to his banker friend has shut up.

"Do you know the one?" she asks. I don't but I say I do to stop the flat notes sailing from her lungs. "Ok... the next one:" she says looking down a list of 80s and 90s classics.

Only 86 more songs to go before I can suggest the Rolling Stones.

Around 9pm, we leave an empty Jack's Oyster bar to go to the Underbar at the W in Union Square. I've never been to the Underbar before and I wonder as I descend why I've never been before. When I ascend later, I realise why.

While I'm there I meet DJ Dasani - liquid joy for your ears. Or something like that. Not hard to miss. Among the shirts and slacks and the tight dresses and heals sits a kid in vans, jeans, white t and topped with a bright blond crop of curly but receding hair. He peers through a pair of those ovesize glasses that the cooll kids are wearing - but by the size of his eyes. It looks like he needs them for real.

DJ Dasani is our DJ for our wedding. He's very nice. Can't pronounce my name and thinks Iran is somewhere near Korea. We wave the Persian songs in front of him. Just put on this 12 in this order and the crowd will be happy. Then we go Western.

The Lady brings out the paper with 100 songs that a friend of hers gave her. My god, he used to be a wedding DJ too. Didn't everybody. DJ Dasani responds to each one with a thumbs up or a shake of the hand.

When the Lady gets to a song she doesn't know she asks him how it sounds. At this point he unzips his bag and pulls out a mini keyboard. Mini-mini keyboard. So small that we have to draw near to hear the sound as he plays the notes badly.

Do you know that one?

The Lady is confused.

Dasani launches into the chorus. Oh yeah. She says and then her eyes grow wide.

Oh no.

The Lady belts out the chorus alongside the beeps and tweaks.

Somewhere a tree falls but no-one hears it. Meanwhile, the vibrations of that fall are travelling up and down my spine as I try to contain myself.

I love her so. But maybe she needs a couple of dozen singing lessons. Maybe a dozen down.

DJ Dasani is off on that beep-beep-bop-bop-op bit that that comes after "Sometimes I..." in the Moby/Seal track.

She looks me in the eyes. She's enjoying this. Going through the music for her big day. I smile back with all the genuineness I can muster.

"Ok... the next one:" she says. Only 86 more songs to go before I get DJ Dasani to murder the Rolling Stones.

Where's Guy Been?

I got engaged.

Yep. So there's been nothing to write about for the 8.5 month period since I proposed and since this day.

I get married in 21 days.

I therefore have a lot to write about.

Wed Aug 2 : Curfew

Fk. Got in at 2am and tha Lady has told me that I'm not allowed to go out later than 11.30pm ever again. Maybe I shouldn't have text her at 11pm that I was coming home in a minute. She calls me at 12 and I say "Hi - Dave's just turned up!". Line goes dead.

Forecast

sat 91, sun 93.

Almost boiling!

Sat 24th Sept : Danger

Just after I reserve the car to drive to Philly tomorrow, I get the call. It’s that crazy Irish guy from LA – in town. I promise him I can meet him for 1 drink but I’m busy (scared of the Lady’s reaction).

Fri 23rd Sept : Bank Of England

The Lady went to Philly (I have to go down on Sunday). Cards with the boys in Brooklyn. Bank Of England lost its wedge. One good hand. Nice pizza and wings.  We get a call to meet some Brits in Christie Park but  Crazy Dave drags us off to Happy Ending in LES/Chinatown. Downstairs is a mix of local Asian cats and Upper West Side tourists. A good mix of 80s alt plays. Chit chat. Chit chat. Watch the girls dance. Huh – it’s 4am already!

Wed 21st Sept: 3 Act Night

A night of three acts. Kick off at the Strand where I saw Malcolm Gladwell and John Berlin xxx have a good chat about ideas, innovation. Then scooted out when the audience questions started – lots of polite nodding to folk with their own agenda.

Then down to a party with Adriana Huffingdon at uber-blog-person Nick Denton’s apartment.  Blog types mixing with blazer and chino guys, power couples and ambitious smart ladies. It took me to long to get a glass of bubbly so I started getting anxious.

Dash back to pick up the lady from the slightly smaller apartment and then off to see a band the lady has to show her face. We get up top 42nd and the lights shine like it’s daylight. Downstairs in BB Kings a metal band from Finland are being watched by a horde of black T Shirted shaven headed guys and their rather nubile girlfriends. The exception is some skinny pale kid who is freaking out to the tunes in his iPod, ignorant of the soft rock number the guy is singing on stage: “We come from the land of cold. Although we may be bold, we hope our hearts aren’t cold.” or something like that.

Sun 18th Sept: Guy Brighton Wins Race Shocker

  Guy Brighton Wins Race Shocker 
  Originally uploaded by GuyBrighton.

Here I am a little exhausted, having gone for the longest jog of my life. One hour 45 minutes, 1996 out of 10400 runners, 13 and a bit miles. Champion of the Philly Half Marathon (next yeat, I'll be the winner maybe ;)

Many people didn't think I would make it. Crazy Dave looked at me the other night as we ambled out of the Bistro Bar and took one look at my belly and shook his head. Even the Lady got worried: "You're not doing this because of me, are you?" she asked - thinking I would blame her if I had fallen to the ground today.

I ran the race as a challenge. The Ladies brother dared me over a pint. What could I do?

I trained a little up and down the river and managed to maintain a high level of carb intake in the evenings. The brother ran for 2 hours almost everynight.

His time: 1 hour 48.

The power of social drinking.

Get in!

Friday 16th Sept : Training

  pinky-up-in-the-air 
  Originally uploaded by GuyBrighton.

Here I am with pinky up in the air training for Sunday. We're celebrating the anniversary of a British couple in Brooklyn. We're all here - and a few London based Brits are in town... it's amazing how they turn up and expect that everyone's got party favo(u)rs. It's as if London's still strung out in some youth clutching frenzy...

Not for me. Watch the pinky, I'm in training mate...