May the Brute Force Be With You

Fuerzabruta means brute force in espanol and describes this Argentinian contribution to off Broadway perfectly.The show is a collection of phantasmagoric dances, visual effects and evocative imagery.If you are into a relaxing theatre experience, then proceed with your plans with caution. This is a truly interactive sensory experience.You can stand and gaze in awe or you can dance your pants off to the dynamic techno blasting from all directions.



We were herded through the room like cattle with about 100 of our closest friends, dodging smoke and bright lights. We could not even try to be lame. The dancers made very attempt to find us and smash pizza boxes filled with confetti over our heads. The randomness that ensued made it difficult to find the meaning behind the show. I took it as a fanciful parade of technical originality and surreal visuals. It's meant to stimulate the eyes and ears and have you hop around for absolutely no reason at all.


The highlight of the show was the aquatic sequence where a clear shallow pool was placed just inches over the audience's heads. Mermaid-like dancers splashed around above us, illuminated by shades of red and blue. The show ended with three people in business suits running on treadmills for their dear lives. The fact that only one person made it to the end is apparently something to celebrate since the music started blaring and everyone was forced to dance like no one's business. This awkward ending would have made me uncomfortable, but alas, we were saved by the superfluous amounts of rain pouring from the ceiling. The energy from the show had us all hyped for a night on the town despite our soggy attire.

Daryl Roth Theatre 101E. 15th. St. (Union Square East)

All Hail the 7!

After many hours of deep pondering, we have come to the conclusion that the 7 train is by far the most efficient and culturally eclectic train in the city. The herculean task of transporting during rush hour is filled with 6 train fondlers and 1 train robotic suits. The 7 train maintains its unique character and is elevated most of the way, giving great views of the city. This international express stops at a cornucopia of ethnically diverse neighborhoods from Queens to Manhattan. It starts in Flushing at Main St and rolls through Shea Stadium, Flushing Meadows, Jackson Heights, Long Island City and right on into Times Square. Although you can sense the obvious gentrification as you get closer to Manhattan, the 7 train will have you traveling around the world as you pass neighborhoods that are Chinese, Irish, Italian, Turkish, Romanian, Indian and Mexican. You will never have to wait long in either direction because of its average wait time of 7 minutes. So wait 7 minutes, jump on the 7, and introduce yourself to 7 people from 7 different backgrounds.

The Wonderful World of The Creek

It all seemed like a mirage. We were desperate for a Promethean addition to our typical LIC evening. We walked aimlessly into the hot summer air searching desperately for the one place that would make us feel alive, invigorated and serve guacamole. We had just about given up when a vision appeared through the diaphanous haze. This vision, this force breezed through the doors with a guitar and landed directly into our hearts.

"Do you guys like music?" he said. We were intrigued. Of course we liked music. How absurd to even ask such a thing. We looked up to the establishment he had come from and lo and behold, with rays of light gleaming from the sign was THE CREEK.

We sauntered in and began the grand tour from our new Australian friend, Adam. Dear sweet Adam began to tell us of all the glorious events such as comedy shows, Team America movie showings, DJ dance your pants off nights and slideshows of why Dick Cheney is evil. He showed us the dark and mysterious Cave where all the events take place and we were left in amazement and absolute wonder. Aussie Adam then took us upstairs to the sunlit filled and awe inspiring deck. I felt a twinkle in my eye as I gazed out at the tiki torches and mounds of guac and chips being served. We sat down and soaked in the sun for what would become many of a great happy hour.

It is at our usual outside bar area that we have been fortunate enough to run into the almighty and powerful forces of people such as Shaundu, our reefer miracle worker and duck-and-hide Patrick, the questionably humorous comedian. Our days at the Creek have been filled with mounds of guac, pools of margaritas and all the people of the week one's little heart could desire, all smack dab in the middle of LIC.

If you care to join: The Creek is located at 10-93 Jackson Ave Long Island City, NY 11101. Happy Hour 3-7 pm weekdays, 2 for 1 Margaritas! (Yes, 7$ for two pints of glorious gita)

Hug Your Local Ferry

To say the least, we were ferry excited to leave the hustle and bustle of Manhattan's busy streets and venture into the mystical land of Staten Island. Our eyes were all aglow as we boarded the boat and gazed out into the waters of the East River. We came with a purpose: to complete the Staten Island Ferry Challenge. The competitors must board the boat, buy a beer, and finish before docking, as you cannot take beer off of the boat, and must exit the boat when it docks at SI. The ride totals twenty minutes, hence the challenge! We quickly found the Saloon Deck, and purchased two refreshing Corona's for $3.75 a piece. We clinked our bottle necks and went up several decks to bask in the golden light of a sunset ferry ride while the golden Corona's quenched our thirst.

At docking time, we sprinted around the turnstiles, only to board the boat once again. The friendly men at the Saloon Deck's snack bar remembered our thirsty faces and cracked our Corona's with glee. A hint to future challengers: the deck where you board the ferry, (opposite of the exit) will likely be scarce of people, and therefore room for dancing and/or sunbathing will be had.

While also taking the SIF challenge, be sure to check out Olafur Eliasson's waterfalls.. Two of them can be seen, and they will create an interesting dialogue between comrades. Even if the visible structures do not instill the ideals of nature upon you, its still nice to enjoy momentous public art.

A boat and four beers for only $15. How can you go wrong? Clearly, we are easily entertained. But with the classic challenge of pounding down a beer to Staten Island and back while saluting the fist pumping Statue of Liberty, life is a beautiful thing. So when all else fails, sail off into the sunset and spend some quality time with the beloved Staten Island Ferry.

The Festival of Life

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. No, sorry it was just the grandest of times. The Coney Island Siren Festival was a sweaty debacle filled with live music, beer islands, log flumes and that questionable ocean water.

We began our journey through throngs of people, eclectic people. Ranging from your classic hipster to bums with trash cans as legs. However visually stimulating this scene was, we knew it was time to start breaking open the cervezas. What was the beer of choice you ask? Tecate. We wanted to get rowdy. Mexican style.






I was just about to sling back a fresh one when from what did my wondering eyes did appear? A man! A man in a suit...in 90 degree weather...clutching to a stuffed walrus for dear life. This man was elusive, mysterious and just downright sexy. I found myself pining for him and using my x-ray superpower to determine what was under that suit. He strutted through the crowds, determined. On a mission. Into my heart...

We decided to move onto the music and soak in all the tunes that we could. Bands like Broken Social Scene, Helio Sequence, RA RA Riot and Jaguar Love were rocking out and we were breaking sweats. It was around this time that we noticed the monument erected from the heavens that would be our meeting place for the friends and randoms. We gazed into the sky and lo and behold-THE RING OF FIRE. All hail the RING OF FIRE! It was the ultimate vomit machine glowing in the summer sun. It was time to meet and greet and the ring of fire was our North Star.


It was around this time that Jules started to really feel the Mexican inside her and whip out everyone's favorite accessory: the paper bag hat and matching beer can bracelet. These accessories are treasured fashion gems and a steal! All for the bargain price of pride and dignity! She rocked it like a lady and we awed and ogled at the high praise it got from the crowd. We decided that our fashion contribution to society was made and headed towards the park.

The park was alive with excitement and offered us the temptation of vomit inducing scramblers, urine log flumes and pina coladas served out of a breasty lady. All this excitement made us have to retreat to the restroom. We were left with two choices. Pay a quarter and stand in line for a cool half hour or use the biggest toilet in the world. Despite the looming recession, we decided to stick to paying and waited in line. But the big toilet was still calling and so we headed down to the beach.

After the beach we decided to sit and relax on beer island. Ahh beer island, where the beers flow like waterfalls and people mysteriously disappear into the bushes. We pulled up some seats and started shooting the shit into dusk. Big G and I had smoked all of our blessed piggies (pot ciggies) and were forced to fulfill our oral fixation with pizza. A pizza perfect ending to our time at the blessed beer island.

Our day at Coney Island was a truly heartwarming experience but we felt we needed more. And Jules' new flyer mask was just not cutting it. We decided to venture into the deepest depths of Brooklyn and visit Brooklyn Dave: your quintessential easy going, don't give a flaming hell, all around stand up guy. Sweet Ol' Brooklyn Dave directed us to his place of work: Royal Oak. It was at the Royal Oak that we were revived of our depleting energy and given a jolt of our life power with a refreshing beer. Brooklyn Dave was simply unstoppable and so we were left with Smelly NO. 16. Oh the times we shared with smelly no.16! We all sat lovingly close on the window sill and basked in the glorious times we had shared that day. Smelly NO. 16 was a lover and not a hater...and how could you be when your noxious odor was enveloping the entire bar? But we did not discriminate. How could we? We were no prize pigs ourselves. Smelly No. 16 was gracious enough to serve us free beer and grace us with his smelly tales. We laughed. We cried. We smelled good ol NO.16 deep into the summer night...and before we knew it the sun was rising and the world was illuminated once again, welcoming new debacles and of course, debauchery.

Self Reflection

reflection in a mirror. soul exposed my self expression reflected through words. images. entities. forces. art. changing before me is this reflection in a mirror.

Hi. I'm me--
It has become glaringly absurd
this hunt for me
believing that when I was
hunted down
I'd find not only me
but a whole herd
past me's, future me's
the whole cart load
and all the years
and where have I gotten to
in this point of time
this isn't the same mirror
I gazed into years ago

.Gregory Corso.

Brooklyn Impression Sunrise

All nights lead to the morning. Most choose to break during the interlude, the hours of sunrise, but we few take this as our time of day. I've had many relations with dawn in different cities, different countries. One New York night took us all around, from the meat packing district, to a midtown Serbian party, to the lower east side. Different folks, different drinks, different dance parties. A night of Handsome Bobs and cocky Male Models. As I got off the E in LIC, I knew the night could not end without the dawn. I found myself by the G, taking me to Greenpoint, where I found what I was looking for.


Art emanating life, life emanating art. Until we realize that it is all a cycle, we are each prowling around until sunrise. Some in dreams, some walking around in restless nights. This sunrise was the substance Impressionist paintings are made of.