I've been in a blog funk lately. A blunk. A b-funk. Ha, I'm actually listening to P-Funk now and was wondering if George Clinton will ever remix and remaster these recordings. I think he mixed records to be heard through 70's era car stereos and boom boxes. They sound terrible through a good stereo system. All midrange, no low end. And that's through my EQ, which scoops out the mids and boosts the low and high ends. Isn't funk supposed to be about booty-shakin' bass?

I haven't been doing much lately. Went sailing with my brother on Wednesday just for the experience. The yacht club culture is an interesting one, and it's exclusive because it costs a lot of money, but the people are alright. I guess most of "the people" (whatever group) is alright, depending whether you're on the inside or the outside. But the yacht club thing is something I wouldn't otherwise touch. It certainly wasn't "me".

Maybe that's what the funk was. Last night I ended up going out with my brother for a night in Manhattan with "his" group of people. We saw "Blue Man Group" which was pretty awesome, but hanging out with those people was just so depressing. Good people, no doubt, but just not "me". How they could talk so endlessly on about food and restaurants exclusively was astounding in itself. I just politely observed the conversation, trying not to embarass my brother. I was in soul shock after I got back to my parents' house. What a waste I would feel my life would be if I lived like that, but I wouldn't feel it was a waste because that's what I would be. And the amount of money people spend in Manhattan was not a small part of what was so depressing. I'm not spending any money because my brother ends up covering me, but just the feeling of being part of the expenditure - stupid spending, really - was depressing. It seems Manhattan is just obscenely expensive.

Tonight was better.

Several weeks ago, I met a couple on the line to see "Zatoichi" and we exchanged email addresses. My brother also met them, so the "his group"/"my" group dynamic is being taken for a louie. They aren't "his" friends or "my" friends, but I'm much more particular about the people I feel comfortable hanging out with, while my brother is much more open and accepting. So, I don't know. I can hang out with them independently, and I can hang out with them with my brother, and the dynamics will just shift accordingly.

Tonight I met up with them for the Sahara Hotnights show at the Bowery Ballroom. Now the Bowery Ballroom is "my" type of venue. My brother has seen shows there, and he thinks he's hip to that, but if I wasn't his brother, I would think he was a fucking dork (alright, alright, I'm an indie snob). And I didn't mention the show to him until late, because I live in a (apparently minority) culture where you go see a band because you're a fan. You don't go to see a band you've never heard of, and I know my brother has never heard of Sahara Hotnights, and I have good reason to believe that he wouldn't independently like them if exposed to their music, either recorded or live. His taste in music is a fucking dork!

When I mentioned the Sahara Hotnights show to this couple, I guess I led myself to believe they knew them. But they didn't, they just went to the show because it was something to do, so it would have been all the same if my brother went. But I'm glad he didn't, because it made tonight an all "me" night. Instead of him driving us into Manhattan, leaving it up to him to deal with parking and New York, him paying for everything, I rode in on bike, had a natural un-self-conscious conversation, paid for everything myself, did everything the way I wanted to, and rode home on bike. And for the first time in a while I felt like myself.

Riding into Manhattan was another kick in the ass. I didn't take Riverside Drive this time, but hopped straight onto Broadway and took Broadway all the way down to the East Village, about 16 miles total. Riding in Manhattan fits my riding style perfectly - fast and aggressive, but also mindful and not stupid (I wouldn't go so far as to call it smart). I rode the same way in San Francisco, but it's like that was just training for this. I took my old school Fuji 12-speed road bike, hopefully an unattractive theft target, which was suitable for flat Manhattan, and neurotically trippple locked it outside the Bowery Ballroom - hey, let all the non-neurotic people have their bikes stolen.

Sahara Hotnights kicked so much ass. I saw them at Slim's in San Francisco, but there was a bunch of frat boy jocks who annoyed everyone within a 2 mile radius just by being themselves. I'm in love with the AC/DC-esque rhythm section. The bassist is so incredibly cool (and cute), and the drummer plays like how I think I played, but a lot better. She also has long blonde hair, which isn't often associated with rocking female drummers (rocking male drummers, yes), but she also had personality and rock star attitude which was totally great.

Afterwards, I didn't even think of taking the subway back uptown, and rode the whole way back, finding the river side path along the west side, and that made my night. It was just gorgeous riding right along the river, with unlighted sections that felt like flying. It was a cool night, perfect for riding, and call me crazy, but I love the stench of polluted waterways. OK, it wasn't that bad, but the Hudson River certainly doesn't smell good. The path went all the way up to 133rd St, where I had to get back on Broadway up to 177th St. The blocks are small, so it feels like going up in 5 block increments, and 45 blocks goes by pretty quickly.