Thursday, May 27th - Wisecrack o' the day ...
Friend: I think i'm gonna go out with that Sandy girl tonight.
Jens: Really? Wow. How sandy is she?
Here, watch a kickball movie.
Tuesday, May 25th - Let's go to the ol' mail bag ...
From: "Scott Kundla"
To: rapmasterjc@hotmail.com
Sent: Tuesday, May 25, 2004 10:27 AM
Subject: Kickball standings correction (as of 5/24/04)
> Jens,
>
> You asked to be corrected if there were any errors in the standings you
> posted on your website. There are two errors, both a result of one last
> game you may not have been aware of ...
> ... Ring of Fire and the Cobras played one last game on the auxilliary "card
> table" field, starting at about 9:30pm and ending at 10. While the Cobras
> started out strong, we were eventually overwhelmed by Ring of Fire, losing
> the game in the 5th inning by a score of 7-6 (or was it 8-6?). At any rate,
> the new standings should reflect the outcome of this game:
>
> Ring of Fire 2-0
> Cobras 0-3
>
> The Cobras are an honorable, albeit undeniably evil, team and Ring of Fire
> deserves the win. Just wanted to clear that up.
>
> - Scott
Thanks, Scott! Like many a fine wine, you are honorable, yet evil. The ammended standings now put the Ring of Fire (2-0) in a three-way tie with Cassius Clay (2-0) and the Headhunters (2-2). And who at Brooklyn Kickball doesn't love the term "three-way?" Let's go, 'Sleeves!
From: "VanMaarth, Robin"
To: rapmasterjc@hotmail.com
Sent: Tuesday, May 25, 2004 9:01 AM
Subject: mention our show tonight on your website.
And, well, that was it. So, i'd like to mention a show tonight. Hollow Rocket plays tonight at Black Betty, as part of the fantastic Hot Rocks Tuesday nite. Trivia with your host Jens, Dave Burton's wedding party, DJs, prizes, celebrity sightings, really good drinks. Discuss rock, kickball, Martin's record collection. Free, free, free. 10:30 or so on this one.
From: "Nathaniel Melendez"
To: "Rapman80"
Sent: Tuesday, May 25, 2004 5:31 AM
Subject: i am NOT going to help you, you have gone too far ward
I just included that because it's the Funny junk e-mail subject o' the Day
Lastly, in the real mail bag: a check from Hemming & Gilman Productions for handing out seating charts and eating salmon. Talk about a non-profit organization!
Monday, May 24th - People. I really can't go a week without writing. Where do i begin? Ah, i'll begin with kickball, like i always do. We are up to 8 teams now. I will attempt some standings now, knowing full-well some of them may be incorrect. Teams are encouraged to correct my mistakes, if i've made any. We are going to base this round of standings on wins, rather than winning percentage, until we've all played a few more.
Orphans 6-2
Los Piratas Mechanicos 5-3
Orangesleeves 3-3
Cassius Clay 2-0
Headhunters 2-2
Ring of Fire 1-0
Dub Kings 1-1
Cobras 0-2
Yes, you'll notice that, just like my beloved Mets, the 'Sleeves have crawled from the basement of the Brooklyn Kickball standings with inspired play of late, to get to .500 for the first time in franchise history. But, our exciting, 7-inning affair over the feared Piratas pales in contrast to some other highlights, including:
The Pirates and the Orphans welcoming the new teams with a "gift." Inside the box, opened along the third baseline by the captain of the Cobras, was a PIG'S HEAD from the butcher shop with blood red lettering, reading "You're Next!" This was followed by a volley of smoke bombs littering the field. There was another fight or two, one caught very impressively on film. Not that i encourage fighting in the least, mind you. But, i'll say this. First off, this *is* Brooklyn, after all, and i do enjoy the rather WWF, gang-warfare narrative arc imposed on such a genteel game as kickball. The more important point is this, though: the few conflicts that do erupt to me point out that 99% of the participants *do* get it! The people who have started actual trouble have been cast from the league, by all parties. We are all teams, and have rivalries, but mostly we are all interested in the viability of the game and our organization itself. Before i slide into any more soapboxing, i'll instead point out that one of the women involved in the fight was earlier hitting her own teammates with a gigantic dildo. The team in question later disavowed much association with the dildoing fustigater. She seemed a little off, if you ask me. And, i know i'm rambling at this point, but any day you have where someone hitting people in public with a dildo takes second place in the highlight reel to a pig's head, well, i'm glad i got in early.
We do have a second field going now too, to accomidate all the teams. This has had some pluses as well, as the games on the auxiliary field (i refer to it as the "Card Table", like where you sit at Thanksgiving when you are a kid) tend to be a little more civilized, so people can stop feeling intimidated when they see the sorts of shenanigans that now happen routinely on the Varsity Field. Check this video out from last week to get an idea.
Okay, enough about kickball for today. When discussing writing, surprisingly few people mention how damn long it takes. I have the regular list of junk mail names for you, and there are some good ones, but let me first mention a function i worked for the second job i go to occasionally, the one where i happened across index cards with the names Ms. Anne Fudge and George B. Irish inscribed on them. Well, first, i received this e-mail from my boss, who is quite familiar with my love of interesting names, be they fictitious or cast upon real people ...
From: Sioban Healy
To: 'Jens Carstensen'
Sent: Tuesday, May 18, 2004 4:49 PM
Subject: Totally Juvenile
I know how much the funny names amuse you, so I thought that I’d share this one that I just came across as we enter the seating for the big construction lunch:
George Penesis
The worst part is, he’s sitting with a guy named John Cumminsky.
And so it was two days later that i worked the big luncheon at the Hilton on 6th and 53rd, in the Grand Ballroom. Lunch for 1200 construction bigwigs. Even as well-dressed and well-behaved as they were, the affair did take on a palpable testosteroney stink. It was pretty unmistakable. But, the good news is i basically handed out seating charts for a half hour, then enjoyed a salmon and shrimp luncheon, and watched a film about all the great public works projects Governer George Pataki has initiated for our great state, like the expansion of the 7 line to lead to the West Side Jets stadium our city so desperately needs. But, i know what you are wondering, and no, i did not get to meet George Penesis. There was a guy named Frankenberry on the list too, but i didn't really speak to anyone unless they were giving me food.
Okay, there's about one million other things i can write about today - hell, i found myself at three different barbecues this weekend - but i'm shot, and i don't really have any pictures, but stay tuned and i'll hit you with some more jive tomorrow.
Lastly, Funny junk e-mail name o' the Day: Kurt Cobern
Monday, May 17th - I'll write about kickball tomorrow, or later tonight. Today, i've resumed serious searches for more work. Well, kinda. I sent my resume to the folks at The Weekly World News, that hysterical tabloid with news about Hitler's baby you won't find anywhere else. They just happen to be hiring writers. So, today, in my mind, i've been trying to top their classic headline from 1985 COUPLE FLEES TALKING BEAR. Nothin' yet. Which is okay, because their office is in Boca Raton, FL.
I've also been sending resumes to several magazines/print publications. I'm sad that A.M. New York hasn't contacted me yet. That's a funny paper. It's only available in Manhattan, and it reads like a recap of the previous nite's airing of CNN Headline News, sprinkled with the occasional article along the lines of "Will the 2nd Avenue Subway line ever get built?" without saying anything conclusive. It's like a news version of the Outside Scoop feature in The Onion. Can you believe they haven't contacted me yet? So, there's that, and i happened across contact info for freelance writing opportunities for Spin. On the surface, a rather ideal situation, right? But, have you read Spin lately? Egads. Actually, it's not a bad magazine, or at least some of the ideas are funny. Something about the execution is irritating, though. Would i want to write for a publication i don't read? I guess i should at least consider it, at this point. But, when i got the job at Pop-Up way back in the day, at least i liked the show. Writing for Spin would seem to necessitate listening to Radiohead and throwing fake hip-hop lingo into all my articles. I just don't think i'm up to it. I also applied for a position at CourtTV. Now we're talkin!
Okay, kickball. It may be getting a little nuts. The Pirates brought a mascot, a rather fierce looking rottweiler. One of the Orphans stole the Pirates flag, and that lead to a 5-minute chase scene in center field straight out of Benny Hill. We had our first ejection, our first instant reply reversal (B.A. on the camera, J.C. as the reversed ump). The under-staffed Orangesleeves dropped two, and now we are having serious talks about *practices* and *strategy*. What has become of our little kickball league? And to think, the Times piece is supposed to come out this Sunday, and things are really gonna get exciting. There are rumors of a new team hitting the Field of Dreams next week. Anymore, i wonder how Bud Selig even sleeps at night.
Funny junk e-mail name or current/former major league player o' the Day: Alonzo Majic
An evening with Jens
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Friday, May 14th - Yes, as fate would have it, i did not work my 2nd shift at the L.I.C. bar, but instead was able to make it in time to rendezvous with Greg Altman of Break-Up/VH1 fame to take in an evening with Yes. It seems he ran into Jon Anderson (singer) and Rick Wakeman (keyboardist) in the annals of The One, and made with the yakkity-yak-yak. He was surprised to learn the band was playing at MSG, and they were quite psyched about it. "What is it about Madison Square Garden?" El Grego asked, "is it the sound?" and Wakeman replied "nah, it's the vibe, man!" At the end of their chat, Anderson offered Greg two tix and two backstage passes. So, it was decided by many that i would make the ideal concert-going pal, and i was called. I met Greg at the Will Call window, where we were a little disappointed to see that the backstage passes were a hoax, but there were the two tickets, front row. Have you ever sat front row at an arena show? It's a pretty strange experience. At times you almost feel like you're more part of the band than the crowd, as the sound is not at all over-bearing (quite nice, actually) and you look out behind you and see a surprisingly full arena hanging on each of your 1,000,000 notes. Anyway, after persuing the selection of $30 t-shirts, almost all of which were L or XL (that Yes knows their demographic!), we took our seats, which were all the way over to stage right, the "Howe" side, if you will. Now, you know that, being a Yes fan and a bassist, i'd prefer the Squire side. But, seeing Howe play this up-close was definitely worth it. Well, first, he kinda looks like Gollum (suitable), with bad teeth, very frail looking, yet still attempting kicks while he plays some very intricate solos on his gigantic-looking hollow body. Alan White is the most boring drummer in history, but everyone else more then did their part. Jon Anderson's voice has not changed *at all*. It's pretty unbelievable. The harmonies were impeccible, and oddly, it never felt like anyone overplayed. They did a semi-acoustic set in the middle that worked better than it had the right to (maybe because we were sitting so close). Okay, they ended the show (before the encore) with a selection from Tales from Topographic Oceans and that was a goddamn snooze. But, not only was it a good opportunity for us to revel in the irony that Greg was sitting front row at Yes and yet not able, for the first time, to get stoned because of the blatant presence of security guards, but it made me realize how much i enjoyed the rest of the show. And no, they didn't play "Heart of the Sunrise", but i did have El Grego call my cell phone, to hear my self-programmed "Heart of the Sunrise" ring-tone, and everyone within earshot perked up, like dogs who's names are being called. It was pretty funny. And so, that was my Thursday. Thanks, Greg!
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Howe, Squire
Definitely not any sort of dramatization
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Funny junk e-mail name or former Yes member name of the day: Chadwick Frier
Thursday, May 13th - A change of pace today. I am at the Madison Ave. offices of Hemming & Gilman Productions - a non-profit event planning operation - doing brainless administrative tasks for big bucks. I just got done stuffing envelopes begging for promised contributions, and at the bottom of the pile, the "dessert" if you will was the ...
Funny junk e-mail name or United Way contributor name of the day: Ms. Ann Fudge, narrowly beating George B. Irish
l. to r. - B.A., two nice fellows i met last night whose names escape me
Photo: Deann Horack
And what a great photo it is!
Break up the Orangesleeves (1-1)
See, even the camera was drunk
Monday, May 10th - Looking for work today. Not finding much. Yesterday was Kickball Week 4, and the debut of the Orangesleeves, whose ranks swelled to around 20 players at one point. Also, to the right, is Betsy the Kickball Nurse, who also made her debut this week, and, with her bandages and bottle of Jaegermeister, tended to many pulled muscles from those limping pussies, The Orphans (new link included!). Although, give 'em credit, their pitcher was very good at sharing the backpack-full of margarita (including "bite and suck" hose technology) he was wearing during the game. And, also give 'em credit, they beat us 4-0 in Game 1, even though we contend we are a much better-looking team. And we are. The Pirates were a no-show, presumably because this was their dodgeball week. But, instead we got a visit from a nice fellow named Jeff who writes for the New York Times, who was there to do a profile/article/something for the paper. Rumor has it we'll be in ink in two weeks. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, the Sleeves won their 2nd game, 9-5, over the non-Orangesleeves, evening our record to 1-1. We're better than the Mets!
Did i say we were good-looking?
Week 4 Standings:
Los Piratas Mechanicos: 4 wins, 1 loss, 1 tie
Orphans: 3 wins, 1 loss
Orangesleeves: 1 win, 1 loss
Hasids: 1 win, 3 losses
Next week, the return of the Pirates? Another new team? And (confirmed) Betsy, the Kickball Nurse, leads stretches before the game. 6pm sharp, rain o' shine.
Funny junk e-mail name or current/former Major League player name o' the day: Sixto Lezcano
Saturday, May 8th - In my mailbox today ...
Last night, i performed my first ever bartending shift. It was at LIC Bar, owned by the same couple who own the coffeeshop i currently work at. They called me at 8:30, just as i'd gotten off my shift there. "Can you work? It's okay that you haven't trained" and i said sure. Of course, other than pouring beer, i was pretty unqualified for the position. But, i like money and booze equally, so it was too good to pass up. So, after playing drums for a spell with Big Greg and Big James (not to be confused with Greg and James of The Break-Up), i biked back up to the bar and listened to Hear Come the Warm Jets four times in a row and made nice with the local Irish transplants, hoping against hope that no one ordered a cosmopolitan. Martin and Josh finally arrived around 1 am and, taking advantage of both my new job and the fact that no one else was in the bar at that point, we experimented with all kinds of Malibu drinks. It was like our own little Spring Break, as you can see.
Funny junk e-mail name or current/former Major League player name o' the day: Amos Anzualda
Thursday, May 6th - A lovely day, perhaps one suited for going to the track. I thought of this last night, en route to see Black Cat Revolver at Lit. I thought it would be nice to call Kickball Kev and see if he wanted to go to Belmont today. You out there may question the wisdom of someone with a part-time gig at a coffeeshop blowing time at a track in Long Island, but a nice day is a nice day, and i have yet to find the bet-making booth at Shea Stadium (shit, *there's* an idea). So, i made a deal with myself. Post time is at 1pm, if i got up early enough to contact Kev, make it to the train and be on time for the first race, and not the 8th like that drunk bastard Jeff did last year, well, i would do it. Predictably, i woke up at 11:45. And, so, this.
Yesterday was Cinco de Mayo, one of the few occasions for me to get nostalgic over Denver. Not Denver specifically, but the fact that Cinco de Mayo is actually celebrated there. Here, you say "¡It's Cinco de Mayo!" and the responses are almost always either "what?" or "so?" Fortunately, i have a friend or two of Mexican heritage who understand the significance of that day, especially in terms of margarita and tamale consumption. So, at midnight on the Cinco, right after my charming debacle of a show, tequila was imbibed. And last night, after the rock show, i found myself at Beauty Bar, amidst much of the same company, and i decided to order a margarita, which made me probably the gayest person in a 10 block radius. I switched to scotch around 12:30 for Seis de Mayo. Yum.
I'm not sure what to say about my show. Well, i'll say this: my backing band (Jesse Blockton and Marc Levitt on the twin guitar attack first made famous in Cover Me Badd, R. van Maarth on the buckets) is fantastic. I got almost Dean Martin-drunk but was still nervous anyway, and my bass sabotaged me repeatedly by leaping off its strap and landing on the floor with a deep belligerant crash. Back in the Girl Harbor days, i could drop the bass and just kinda pick it up, put it back on and resume rocking. But that's not an option when you are singing. This is when i discovered just how much i like my band, as i was forced to hold my unteathered bass by the neck in one hand and dance around while singing, thinking all the while "hey, the band sounds pretty great!" Oh, and i occasionally forgot words. Maybe i should have a giant Lucinda Williams-style song book on stage, but that would probably end up on the floor, too. In short, i have absolutely no idea how the whole came across other than charming/entertaining/fun. Not what i was going for exactly, but i'll take it. The good news is i really, REALLY like singing and playing bass. That Sting was really on to something. So, combined with that discovery and the fact that now i feel like i have something to prove, i'm going to get another show, practice a little more assiduously (a little!) and find some X-tra strength duct tape to hold my bass on with.
Photos were taken of the show, but not by my camera. Hopefully i see one someday. Actually, i hope i don't. The always-sweaty Johnny Rauberts and Spirit Award recipient Damien Paris are doing Soul by Committee today, so maybe i'll try and force my way in on that. Or maybe i'll look for work. Maybe it's too nice out to do either.
Funny junk e-mail name or current/former Major League player name o' the day: Stubby Clapp
Monday, May 3rd - A rainy morning, listening to Elvis. Coffee at the coffeeshop is free today, as it is the owner's daughter's 1st birthday. I wonder if the kid gets any. Of course, being connected like i am! i'm getting my coffee for free as it is. I woke fitfully at 8 am from one of the creepier dreams i've had maybe ever. I won't go into details, but it will be a long while before i eat shrimp again. You may see by my notice at the top that i'm playing a show tomorrow. I'll be giving away "advance copies" of my CD Sings Seven Songs Sweetly. I'll be playing bass, singing and generally trying to avoid peeing in my pants. Should be good for a Tuesday nite.
A rundown of recent activities on a busy, busy weekend ...
Kickbrawl, subjects unknown
(This photo made possible by a grant from the Dailey Foundation)
Game One - Los Piratas Mechanicos 2, Orphans 1
Game Two - Carstensens 7, Non-Carstensens 5
Game Three - Orphans 7, Los Piratas Mechanicos 6 (extra innings)
Game Four - Non-Carstensens 7, Carstensens 6 (extra innings)
... and now the pitch. I want to finally form my own team, called the Orangesleeves. Everyone except me hates the name Orangesleeves, but i like how old-timey and non-threatening it sounds, like White Sox or Maple Leafs. Drop me a line if you want in. Requirements are a shirt with orange sleeves and a willingness to rumble with shit-talking pirates, or Team Coral Room, if those pussies ever get their act together. Dames encouraged.
I will also be decorous enough to not get any fine establishments in trouble by blabbing which bar by the Field of Dreams serves margaritas to take away, but it was a very pleasant discovery, especially in the wake of the new edict at The Hat. Yes, The Hat no longer serves margaritas to go, which of course was the only reason to go there. Yes, apparently 15 years of tradition vanishes due to some bullshit crackdown. New York is turning into Denver right before our eyes. This was only one bit of bad news we received on Friday, among some very fun activities. The night started with the first (well, my first) Critical Mass bike ride of the year. I have no idea how many bikes were in it this time around, but it may not be an exaggeration to say a couple thousand. We started in Union Square, headed to the West Side highway, through Times Square just at dark, then through both tunnels surrounding the Helmsley Building at 40th St. The night was beautiful, and so was the one wreck i witnessed: two shirtless dirtheads on trashy BMXs, running into each other then flying headlong into a four-foot tall pile of curbside garbage bags. They both sprang right back on their feet and continued riding, to the amusement and amazement of everyone.
It was after the bikeride, but before the subsequent Giraffes Welcome Home show, that we made the grisly discovery at the Hat. So instead the four of us (mineself, Kickball Kev, Roomie and late addition Sheri Barclay on her rusty one-speed) went across the street for cheep, too-sweet margaritas at Taco Loco. Conversation took a weird but interesting turn towards world geography, where we then engaged in a "name an African country" contest. I won. The results of the "name a country in the Western Hemisphere" contest are still being hotly debated, after i unsuccessfully challenged Kevin that Antigua was not a country. What, you don't do things like this on a Friday night?
And so it was off to a very full Luna Lounge to see the Giraffes. I knew i couldn't stay long, as i (ostensibly) had to play drums for Creme Blush at the world's creepiest club, Boogaloo, at midnight. I got to stick around to see half of the Giraffes' set, and it seriously may have been the best performance i've seen by them yet. They were tight, belligerant, and their new songs are amazing. Alas, i had to split, and roomie joined me on his bike, and we rode over to the Williamsburg Bridge into the bowels of the South streets, to Boogaloo. I'd never been to Boogaloo before that night, but i'm here to say that, despite the veneer of being a somewhat ritzy club at first blush, the place makes the Mars Bar look like a night at the Chili's. And, no, not in a good way. It may be conjecture to talk of the club's coked-out, townie "vibe", but it's not a reach. And, do i need to add that the night was TRIPLE booked? Oh, and there's only one microphone, and no one at the club had any idea the show was even happening. So, instead of playing (and thankfully, i only bothered bringing drumsticks), i instead stood outside of the club, on Marcy Ave., just below the tracks of J train, for about an hour, watching Nicole and Satski berate some hapless bar employee until they were paid $200 to leave. I thought that was great. But, a weird way to end the evening. Best of all, Josh stuck around for a few extra minutes, only to be encountered by an affable but very bugged-out fellow, who told Josh that if anyone gave him any shit, that he "had his back", then proceeding to open up his coat and show him the impressive firearm he happened to be carrying. Josh wisely found that to be a good time to leave the area. I'm never going to Boogaloo again, not that i'll ever have a reason to.
You may have noticed there's a photo on the website today. This is because Kevin gave me his camera!! I thought this was a very sweet thing to do. He said it made sense, as when i have cameras, i tend to take pictures pretty religiously, whereas he tends to forget to even bring it. So, he gave me the base, the cords and the camera for my use. Thank you, Kevin Dailey, and sorry i didn't get any photos of the actual brawl. Best of all, among the pics still in the camera when i got it, was the photo of Chuck D., who incidentally did not make it to Kickball Week 3.
Alright, i would pontifficate on Chuck D. here, on why i feared (from an asthetic standpoint) going to that show, on how there remains no evidence of Public Enemy's very existance in current hip-hop, but i should really get some work done, and you can probably guess what i would've said anyway.
Funny junk e-mail name or current/former Major League player name o' the day: Terrmel Sledge
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