Saturday, January 23, 2010

Day 168 - What’s a Jackson Pollock?

January 23rd, 2010

I think my neighborhood has become my muse. As I’ve mentioned in previous entries, I’ve recently made a deliberate effort to intertwine myself into my community in Carroll Gardens/Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. Characters that I couldn’t even make up are providing inspiration for fodder beyond my wildest dreams. My sense is that my neighborhood is comparable to what the village used to be 30 years ago. Just more expensive brownstones, less AIDS and I have not yet heard anyone singing about the RENT. Besides myself. I see my new friends possessing my favorite combination of grounded free spirit who pursue their life goals but also like to have a good time. On top of that, I’m quickly getting the vibe that these people have each other’s back. That’s solid. Like a rock.

Last night, my new expanding crew ended up at Bar Tabac, the exposed brick-esque French bar slash bistro that has become my neighborhood Regal Beagle. It is here that I found myself being bought a $30 dollar glass of scotch while “Predator” was playing on the flat screen. That's how they role at Tabac. Several of us ended up back at my friend Julie’s apartment which was located in a building that was formally a Catholic school. These were the 30 and 40 somethings involved in phase two of the night:

Myself – The tall blond Jewish comedian from the south.

Julie – The sassy real estate broker who, personality wise, is my shorter twin with black curly hair.

Anders – Half Jewish. Half Swede. I didn’t know they made those.

Paul – The nucleus that seems to bring everyone together. He’s a lawyer originally from Texas. Republican. Throws bad ass parties:

Raphael – Puerto Rican architect

Since I am an observer by trade, I’m always fascinated by the dynamic that develops among seemingly random people. I find that sometimes diversity actually makes the group vibe more seamless. Certainly more authentic. Since friends are the family that you can pick, I had to assign roles to my new friends.

Mom – Julie

Dad – Anders

Big Sis – Me

Li’l Brother – Paul

Exchange student – Raphael

If I were to write this, I would have Raphael continually asking his host family for the meaning of dubious sexual terminology. While doing jazz hands. I mentioned this to him and he really ran with my suggestion. Over the course of the night, he would approach us (with the jazziest of hands..and sometimes accompanied with spirit fingers) and ask his “host family" with his Fez-like Puerto Rican accent,

“What’s a dirty Sanchez?”

"What’s a rusty trombone?"

"What’s a Jackson Pollock?”

Now I had never heard of this Jackson Pollock that my pretend foreign exchange student brother spoke of. This morning I visited the always reliable Urban Dictionary and learned that, yes…yes indeed, the JP is an act of the sexual. I try to keep it relatively clean on here so I will only supply you the constantly mediocre Urban Dick sample sentence: “She's such an unpleasant person. I hope she gets a Jackson Pollock tonight!”

In summary, my new friends make my heart feel full and I am staying clear of lewd sexual terminology during my 365 blog entry challenge. You won't find it here. Go visit a Russian hooker’s Myspace page if you want to read about Danza slaps, pearl necklaces, donkey punches, Lucky Pierres, Mars Bar parties, teabagging, felching, tossed salads and Cincinnati bowties.

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