Bourbon Cowboy

The adventures of an urbane bar-hopping transplant to New York.

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I'm a storyteller in the New York area who is a regular on NPR's "This American Life" and at shows around the city. Moved to New York in 2006 and am working on selling a memoir of my years as a greeting card writer, and (as a personal, noncommercial obsession) a nonfiction book called "How to Love God Without Being a Jerk." My agent is Adam Chromy at Artists and Artisans. If you came here after hearing about my book on "This American Life" and Googling my name, the "How to Love God" book itself isn't in print yet, and may not even see print in its current form (I'm focusing on humorous memoir), but here's a sample I've posted in case you're curious anyway: Sample How To Love God Introduction, Pt. 1 of 3. Or just look through the archives for September 18, 2007.) The book you should be expecting is the greeting card book, about which more information is pending. Keep checking back!

Sunday, November 12, 2006

A Clear Symptom of Classic-Movie Geekery

I was hoping to write more today---specificially, I was hoping to have, by the end of today, an essay on "Why the Emergent Church Movement Can't Save Evangelicalism." I even --- gasp! --- downloaded podcasts of sermons from Mars Hill church---which started in tune with the Emergent Movement, but seems to be backpedaling now. (And if I may say it, listening to sermons for research only proves, yet again, why I can't go to church anymore. The inconsistecies are too obvious to swallow anymore.)

Anyway, normally when I want to write on the weekend, I go to a bar---usually The Patriot in TriBeCa, because it's the cheapest venue in town ($1.75 for a bottle of PBR, $3.75 for a shot of Kentucky Gentleman), so I can nurse drinks for hours while typing away at my Jurassic laptop.

Today (and tonight) however, The Patriot was home to not one, but two irritating drunks who literally sang random songs at high volume every time there was a lapse in the jukebox, which made it very hard to concentrate. What's more, the simple fact is that my muse is for shit, and after writing 10,000 words during the week (the equivalent of about 40 pages), she all of a sudden gets worn out and lazy. I got, in short, nothing done. Que lastima.

Anyway, the most alarming thing about the afternoon/evening was that, while I was sitting in the middle of the bar, I saw a distinguished, gray-haired, Latino-looking man at the end of the bar, and I actually thought, "Wow! He looks exactly like Jose Iturbi!" For those of you who don't do crosswords, Mr. Iturbi was a famous classical conductor who also mysteriously wound up in a few Hollywood films, the most prominent of which (for my money) is the Deanna Durbin vehicle One Hundred Men and a Girl. And I experienced the acute isolation that occurs when someone reminds you of a trivia fact that no one knows or gives half a damn about. I bit my tongue and watched with amazement as his every movement---the tilt of his head as he spoke, the very cadence of his words--reminded me of this guy that almost no one I know knows anything about. Thank god for blogs! I finally get this out of my system, and now I can sleep.



Blogger Tristram Shandy said...

Wow. Jose Iturbi and Kier Dullea in less than 24 hours. Who’s next?

BTW, I’m in San Francisco for another few days, so I apologize for not returning your call regarding the history and structure of the Universe. Not that my cell phone doesn’t work on the Left Coast, but, you know, sight-seeing and all…

11/13/2006 10:56 AM  

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