Posted 3:01 AM by sport

Gee... been having a bout of bloglassitude of late, eh?
Well, there's been a lot going on. I'll save the real news for later, but a mention of a long lovely day of NYC rambling this week. I'll indicate with asterisks where I've decided to digress into abject lies.

Went in planning to see Kelly Copper's exhibit of works derived from the frames of found home movies, and took this as an opportunity to visit other friends in town. First to David Garland's place, where he played me some of the new songs from his just-completed humdinger of an album. His best set yet, this thing, and the new ones are incredible. Beaming with pride to have collaborated on a few of the album's selections. After this treat David, his wife Anne and I were shocked by a huge BOOM somewhere out there. The instant, inevitable and obvious worry. *David and Anne, cowering in sudden, helpless fear, looked to me for... I dunno, answers... reassurance... the usual. "Never fear" I shouted.*

I went down to investigate, troubled to see a bunch of emergency vehicles heading straight for the Ed Sullivan theater, home of David Letterman's show, which was my next stop. Turned out to be an electrical fire, which blew out a manhole lid. So I returned, *calming the Garlands and the rest of the building's terrified occupants. Brushing off the mass "hurrahs" with a modest shrug, I signed a few autographs, kissed a few babies* and walked to the park with David for a chat and a cuppa. After that I headed back to the theater to meet my young nephew David and up to the writers' offices for a long-postponed visit with chum Steve Young. I mean chum as "buddy" ...not a bucket of fish-guts meant to lure sharks, which would be one hell of a rude thing to call one's buddy.

And while on the subject of blogwise clarity... when I say David at this here post-Garland point in the narrative, I mean young David the nephew, but not when I say Young, which is when I mean Steve, who writes for yet another David I've never met, so don't even worry about that, since THAT David was on sick leave anyway. Of course, later I was to meet up with Steve Espinola, who is - of course - not Steve Young, so bear in mind that any later references to Steve - meaning, references concerning the period after (young nephew) David and I leave Steve (Young - writer) (which hasn't even happened yet in the current tale, since we're just arriving at David's offices to meet Steve after I left David to meet David, who'd later accompany me to meet up with Steve) - mean Espinola. But it seems like if I singled out Steve Young for "last name" treatment, it'd be a sort of rude thing to do with such an esteemed buddy, who is no mere bucket of shark-lure to be bandied about off the side of the "first-name-basis-boat" as it were.

Steve hosted us as graciously as ever, despite constant interruptions from people expecting him to write funny stuff for the show. *This impertinence was not to be tolerated, and I told Steve that if he insisted on entertaining America instead of amusing us, we'd take our business elsewhere. Things got tense, and if it hadn't been for my reluctance to set a bad example for David, it could have degenerated into a real brannigan. As it was, things took an ominous turn. Young stood upon his desk, coiled and ready to strike with a very heavy-looking vintage box camera as I goaded him on with a potted palm I'd dragged in from the hall (a defensive precaution dictated by previous, similarly atavistic visits to the office of this loose cannon). "Come on, comedy-man... take your shot; I'm so scared I forgot to laugh!" I spat. Steve just snarled: "Bah! Let's see you sing yer ditties with 'xelfielloR' imprinted across your skull, Caruso!"

Sanity prevailed and, after a round of sweaty apologies,* David and I said bye to Steve and headed downtown to Kelly's exhibit at Anthology Film Archives. Kelly was, as it happened, the only Kelly in the evening's plans, which must be a relief to you, even though I find it a little obnoxious on your part that this should seem like a "relief" since, as delightfully singular a person as Kelly is, you have no right to assume that another "Kelly" would somehow represent a surfeit of "Kellys" or be - in any way, shape or form - "a Kelly too far." How DARE YOU!

*I'm so pissed,* I'll continue at another time.
But before I go, I promised big news, and the big news is... it's official:
Shelley is pregnant!
Look for our newest release in December.
I am astonished. We are delighted.
Hommina hommina!
But what to name the baby? These things can get confusing.