Tuesday, March 13, 2007

rock and roll hall of fame induction night

we'll save the commentary for whether there should even be a rock and roll hall of fame for another night. just not up for the rant right now.

I've been waiting for about an hour to get a call from my friend and editor Mr. Harvilla who is currently in penguin clothes at the Waldorf-Astoria to meet him in the city as somehow I was (I assume mistakenly) invited to an after-party for Ronnie Spector (she and the other Ronettes were inducted tonight along with Grandmaster Flash, Van Halen, R.E.M. and Patti Smith). and though the after-party had a midnight start time, the call has not come.

and now, after searching for the live Internet feed (found the feed but am missing ActiveX or Windows Media Player 24.73 or something and dammit I have enough downloads on my computer), I know why.

R.E.M., the last of the night's inductees (I think), didn't walk onstage to accept until 12:02 according to AOL's live blog. I'm sure the whole show is running long (way long) as awards shows (don't get me started) are want to do, but it looks like Eddie Vedder's introduction of the men from Athens timed out at fifteen minutes. which is probably longer than the four will take to accept their honor. and considering we've got the "all-star" jam left to go my suspicion and inclination is that I'll pass the rest of the evening without crossing the threshold of my apartment.

good thing I got some ironing done earlier.

listening to right now (despite the induction of Patti Smith and R.E.M. on the same night): The Byrds' Sweetheart of the Rodeo (though I did listen to Document and Radio Ethiopia (see above) earlier)

weirdest thing that happened to me today: I'm walking to Lenny's to grab lunch and I see this guy leaning against a lamppost who looks a lot like Tom Chiarella. Tom's the fairly recently appointed literary or fiction editor at Esquire (I forget which and when I went to find out (or remind myself) I discovered that Esquire has the slowest website of all time; I also learned that Esquire now has a Music Awards issue (currently up), which is interesting since not too many years back when I was trying my best to show some well-deserved love to Dexter Romweber (the exceedingly rare truly unique musician), Esquire "didn't do music." but now it seems they do. damn, wish I knew something about music writing so I could contribute. oh yeah).
despite the fact that Mr. Chiarella is on the masthead of the multiple aforementioned periodical, he don't live here (Tom lives in Greencastle, IN, soon-to-be former home of a Delta Zeta sorority chapter). but lots of men who look like Mr. Chiarella do live in New York. yet nevertheless I caught myself staring. so I looked away, because you don't want to get caught staring at a guy who looks like Tom Chiarella (leather jacket, shades, not small, kindly brooding, et al).
so I walked on by, but did a doubletake after the pass, and despite wearing the earbuds (I believe Arcade Fire was playing) I could tell that the guy was yelling after me and therefore it had to be Tom.
which it was.
world's worst phone call returner, by the way. if Tom Chiarella ever calls you, don't call him back. it's the only way you'll ever get ahead in the "you owe me a phone call" game with him.

(just got my "just before 1 a.m." booty call from Mr. Harvilla, btw. we have decided to bypass the Ronnie Spector festivities)

weirdest thing that happened to me last week: on one of NYC's drier, windier, colder days (it's a bit warmer now, thank you) I returned to my desk after venturing outside for a smoke. the phone was ringing. I answered it. and when my goatee touched the receiver, the thing zotzed, shorted out, died. right after some white sparks flew. a bit disconcerting as I am neither the unflappable nor the unsinkable Molly Brown.

all right. Esquire's website seems to functioning now and Tom's official title is "Fiction Editor and Writer at Large."
we here at http://dockellis.blogspot.com/ are happy to set the record straight.

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