A good place to go for breakfast in East Williamsburg when you’re shell-shocked after a national tragedy is Lola’s Cafe.
Order the tomato soup and grilled cheese special and converse with friends about the space shuttle explosion and politics.
Ignore the eye-rolling of the pretty 20-year-old girl sporting an asymetrical ‘do and Flashdance garb at the next table.
(“Grief and political convictions are so 90’s. We’re busy creating the future sound of NYC over here.”)
Seriously, I can’t say enough good things about Lola’s. Inexpensive, quality comfort food. Relaxed atmosphere. Better food than the Garden Grill; better service than Phoebe’s.
Last night I went to the Knitting Factory to see Iron & Wine. Sam Beam replicated some of the juicy harmonies from the album with the help of his sister, Sarah (Sara?). And James Mercer of The Shins filled in beautifully on one of the songs (“Upward Over the Mountain,” if memory serves).
Later, during Mercer’s set, Beam helped out on a bang-up version of “New Slang.” (“. . . I’d a danced like the king of the eyesores . . .”) They were so good together that one enthusiastic fellow up front next to me called a friend–“Listen to this, man. No just listen.”–and held his cell phone in front of the speaker.
The tour continues tonight in Boston, tomorrow in Philly, and then meanders down to Virginia, over to California, and winds up in London, Leeds, Glasgow, Sweden, and Norway. The price ($10) was right, so do try to catch them.
We missed Rosie Thomas’ set, unfortunately, because we wanted to catch up with Sam and some other folks we know from Max’s film school days.
Afterward, Sam had to retrieve his car (which had been towed in Queens, poor guy) so he could drive to Boston today. The rest of us, including some hungry and patient girlfriends of mine, went out for drinks and late-night junk food.
We got home around 4, but I’d had enough to drink that I woke up at 8:30 a.m. and couldn’t go back to sleep.
(This is a new trick my body plays on me as I age. I can sleep until noon, no problem, most weekends, if I don’t have much to drink. Otherwise, the time I wake up is directly proportionate to the number of drinks I consume. Last night I only had 3 drinks, but I am small and most of them were on an empty stomach.)
Naturally I haven’t written a word of my novel draft this weekend. Or accomplished anything, really, beyond changing the cat litter and putting away some visual clutter.
I was planning to go to a late brunch and an afternoon reading today, but now I’m wondering how bad it would be if I cancelled.