Pisco Sin Fronteras

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Outdoorsy? Yes, I think I will.

Bite into MY Hot Sauce Confidence

I admit I have a problem: I love hot sauce.

I brag about eating the spiciest food.
I look for the most piquant and zesty meals when I eat out.
And when I cook, you can count on it leaving a lasting fuego inside your mouth that will follow you to sleep that night.

From the popular Cholulah to the Ocean Deck Rasta Sauce in Daytona, I have searched for the hottest sauces this wide world has to offer. And while Dave's Insanity hot sauce was at the top of the list for a while (and yes, it will still certainly remove rust from you bike frame), I have found another hot sauce that has challenged my spice-taking abilities: the Vicious Viper.

Almost suffering a cardiac arrest from just taking a minute drop of this stuff on my tongue, I advise a smaller-than-necessary amount for full plates of food (we're talking one drop people, it will ruin your food, and insides). And if you ever find something that is regularly available to purchase that is hotter than this stuff, I salute you.

Long live the spice.

Where are your parents anyways?

Let's face it, New York is a pretty awesome place to be. Tons of people, lots to do and best yet, it never stops, day or night. It can be a little overwhelming at first and getting accustomed to the largeness of it all is quite daunting, but once you get the hang of it, it becomes...do I say it?...yes, home.

We got a good laugh at this one.

One of my favorite things to do is to go and hang out in the parks. A day off, the sun shining and plenty of people to watch. We got the guy selling ice cold waters, Coronas and even made on the spot mojitos, some people flying kites, others doing karate, and, my favorite, the kid wearing a funny, slightly inappropriate birthday hat. He was quite fond of the hat and didn't have a clue why people kept taking his picture.

Next stop: Peru.

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I always knew it....

I just knew I would find proof someday. Not entirely true...but wittily comic.

Macaroni and cheese. For your ears.

Who doesn't like something written by a band from Portland named "Starfucker"? Either way, pretty rad.

Check it. HERE. BOSS.

Orlando Orshmando

1) Go to Ocean Deck. Best wings I've ever had in my life, and yes, I bought a bottle of Rasta Hot Sauce. Delightful.
2) I went rooting for the Cavs in the Eastern conference finals when they were playing the Magic. I was the only one cheering at LaBron's last minute shot. Too bad Orlando won it out;
and....
3) Any Bar Mitzvah's must be celebrated at the Daytona International Airport. Check out the awesome view of that control tower. Thanks mom and dad! Maybe the kid wants to be a pilot. Either way, Mazel Tov!

"Wagner Bar Mitzvah. Guests Only. Mazel Tov Isaac!

Life. Explained.

Simply illustrated. Truely complex.

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"Boy A" - Easily a best of 2008

If you haven't seen a GREAT film in a while, I suggest you check out "Boy A". Premiering at Tribeca Film Festival in 2008, it really hasn't been given the credit it deserves. Artistic, emotional film that grasps the true realities of rehabilitation, which leads to a man chasing himself through a new identity, true love and the reality that can't exist in between.

It is a "small, huge film" which, needs to be seen by any person, film junkie or not. I found myself caught up in the true art and storytelling of young director John Crowly, and even more notable performance by Andrew Garfield. Never heard of either of them? My point exactly. A great film, massively overlooked.

"Boy A" Movie Trailer

Who settles for a tied game?

I have a new hobby to look forward to every Sunday from now until October and it's spelled k-i-c-k-b-a-l-l.

Brooklyn Kickball.

Kickball will always have a place in every beating heart, and, well, if you're dumb enough to not seek out a game from time to time, you probably need to rethink your priorities.

Every Sunday we play. Rain or shine, snow (not too much in Brooklyn) or wind, we play. It is a time to bond with your fellow teammates over the terrible call at third and question as to whether or not the ump really knows the rules (which some cases they are too busy taking swigs of whiskey to catch a close call - shhh, everyone's doing it). It is a time to laugh, drink and be merry, more or less forget about the stresses that accumulate during a long week.

This week we played Brooklyn United. A fast, well-played team. Quick on the bases and some relatively good kicking legs. We did find out that their former team name was "Prison" because they have a teammate that was (and still is) put behind bars for beating someone over the head with a shovel in Kentucky. Oh the characters at kickball.

So, if I'm bringing my game face every Sunday to the field, slip and sliding through the mud, making diving catches to my face, nearly pulling my shoulder out of it's socket when whipping the yellow ball to first base, and constantly looking over my shoulder to make sure someone on the other team isn't pulling out concealed weapons, please....

NO TIED GAMES.

It's all I ask. Kickball is a time for me and my team, Zeus' Beard (akst bout us), to show that we are better than you. No tied games after 5 short innings.

Book down. Balls up. Finish the game.

The Morning After

I didn't really know where to start with this blog, so I thought that I guess I should begin with what's happening right now. And as I go, everything will work itself out - as it usually does.

I work for 4th Row Films in New York. Our most recent project screened at the Tribeca Film Festival last night and it was the first time I have been apart of the festival itself. Titled "Making the Boys" our documentary examines the groundbreaking play, and later feature film, "The Boys in the Band" written by Mart Crowly. There were cameras and a sold out theater, free drinks and some rather famous people (if you know who you're looking for). After the show, we held our after party at Elmo Restaurant and Lounge (7th Ave, between 19th and 20th). Perfect pink curtains and a disco ball fit the gay-theme of things, and of course my boss playing DJ. I think he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he didn't have control over the tunes and a double shot of chilled Cuervo in his hands at all times - hold the fruit. Makes for a hell of a time.

If there is one picture that describes what the morning after Tribeca is like, it might look like this:

Yikes.

"Bluebird" by Charles Bukowski

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?

If you don't like this song, we can't be friends.

Wanna go ride bikes?