Saturday morning I had to rush back to New York from Chicago for all sorts of reasons, one of which was that Mitch Clark (who you may remember me meeting in Utah over spring break and going to Sizzler with while I was there) was in town for the weekend and I wanted to maximize my Mitch-Exposure. The Fursts were throwing Mitch a pancake lunch party, so as soon as I got in I headed up to that.
Shortly after meeting Mitch in March I decided I wanted to write her a song, a song called "Mitch Clark is Coming to My House", an alternate-version of the LCD Soundsystem song "Daft Punk is Playing at My House." I spent a month and a half thinking about writing the song and two airplane flights writing the song and a lot of time imagining myself singing the song. Since I couldn't stop telling Mitch that I had a surprise for her and much of the party was structured around the notion of the song, it was a sure thing that I'd be performing it. It was probably the first time I had "sung" by myself in front of people since 8th grade.
Anyway, the song began with me imagining I was getting a call from my doorman telling me that Mitch Clark was coming to my house, my house.
It's funny how, even though you think you might know a whole made up song, you wind up reading the whole thing.
But soon I really got into it . . .
And even improvised a "cowbell" solo.
Some of my audience seemed only marginally entertained (probably cuz they didn't know the original song.)
While others were slightly more entertained (particularly Jo and Dirk, also visiting the NYC from the SLC).
But all that matters is that I got tears of joy from the Guest of Honor.
And even incorporated a big finish into my finish.
Later Ashley and Paul performed their old maraca routine, which, you know, is pretty good as she's a Latina American Idol and all.
After most of the pancake eaters had left Amber prepared Morgan for a photoshoot with Mitch.
We went out to Broadway for the shoot.
Garrett took some pictures of the picture-taking too, along with the guy in the white shirt there behind him. He was just some guy that crossed the street, took a picture, and walked off. I figured that if he got to take a picture of my friends, I got to try to take a picture of him
Someday soon (November, I think) you might see this picture (or one a lot like it) somewhere in a Modern Bride article about napkin folds . . . wait, I mean, a picture nothing like this one, a picture that's just of Mitch and Morgan, pretending to be engaged.
And this is everyone. Yes, I gave Morgan my shirt to match Mitch. Yes, I happened to have a spare shirt in my bag.
Much later we all went to see the Faint at Webster hall. Here's Jeff, Craig, and Jenna. Kristin was there too, but maybe she was too little to show up in this photo? I don't know.
Here's Jo and Dirk and a blurry Mitch.
It was my second time seeing the Faint. They're consistently awesome. I stand by my previous evaluation of the band, when you see them live, you wouldn't know that they weren't the world's biggest rock band (let alone a band that 9 out of 10 Americans have never even heard of).
Just look at how hard they're rocking!
Maybe this is my best concert photo ever?
And check out the constructivist-looking projections going on back there.
Full disclosure: the Faint were sort of opening for Bright Eyes. But who cares about Bright Eyes? (I mean, who cares about Bright Eyes that isn't crying too hard right now to be reading Steady Mobbin'?)
We lasted around three songs before we had had enough of his feelings and headed for other adventures and we probably wouldn't have lasted so long if Nick Zinner of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs wasn't playing guitar for Mr. Sensitive.