Night On Earth

Last night was an action-packed night in a sea of nights that are packed with action and other things. First, I had rock practice with my rock band Valley Lodge. We have a rock show coming up this Saturday at Mercury Lounge so we decided to fire up the asskicking machine just to make sure everything was working properly. It seemed to be, though I’m still having trouble getting the hair right.

After practice, I wandered downtown from our Chelsea practice spot and eventually bellied up to the counter at La Taza De Oro on 8th Avenue between 14th and 15th streets, my favorite place to dine alone in New York City. I enjoy eating here with other people too, but the fact of the matter is that most of the time I can’t get people to eat here with me. They say it’s too “heavy” or it gives them “diarrhea” or they saw “roaches” last time they were there. Personally, I don’t have a problem with any of these things. To me diarrhea is just nature’s way of telling you that you’re living life to its fullest and also maybe you should not put so much hot sauce on next time. And as for the roaches, they’re just plain adorable. And aren’t lobster, shrimp, and crawfish and all that just the roaches of the sea? People don’t seem to have a problem with them. I mean, some people do, but hopefully you see my point. If roaches were just a little bigger it would be only a matter of time before someone tried to figure out a way to charge $12.50 a dozen for those things. Hey, I’m just saying. As long as we’re on the topic, I suppose I should mention at this point that I personally have never seen roaches at La Taza De Oro. The food there is delicious. Try the pork chops. They were a little dry last night, but still.

After my delicious and roach-free dinner at La Taza De Oro (Oh yeah, I had the roast pork chops, yellow rice, red beans, cafe con leche, and a bowl of garlic on the side. All four food groups were represented.), I headed back to Brooklyn for a night of further world domination. I stopped off at the little grocery by my house and picked up a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby ice cream despite recent photographic evidence that suggests I should never eat this stuff or much of anything ever again. Once I got home, I tore into the Chubby Hubby with a dirty tablespoon and popped in “M is for Manchester”, the Morrissey concert DVD that came out a few months. I suppose there is something very sad about a grown man sitting at home in the dark eating ice cream and watching a Morrissey DVD all by himself, but all in all it was really not bad for a Wednesday. I checked a little e-mail while I was at it, but for the most part it was just me, Morrissey, about 2000 extra calories and then off to bed.

At about 4 in the morning or so, I was awakened by my lower intestine, which seemed to be saying something to me like “So Dave, let me get this straight- two pork chops, rice, beans, a bowl of garlic, a gallon of hot sauce, and half a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and you expect me not to let loose all over the bed?” Disgusting, I know, but hey- God made me this way.

Dave Hill