Ian developed a rather extreme interest in music over the summer. And because we lavishly indulge all of Ian’s cool tricks, I’m setting him up with music classes. It took some research, because we never had Jonah in any music classes. He made it through 8th grade band without ever practicing or having a lesson. Jonah was naturally good, but didn’t care enough about it to add another expensive activity to our calendar. After some pressing of the network of moms, I found a place for the drums about half hour from here.
He is taking drum lessons at a music school in the back of a guitar store. It’s run by a bunch of young guys with huge Jesus beards. It is a new independent store with a tatoo-style logo and Van Halen-ish electric guitars hanging off the wall. Open mic nights. These guys clearly love their guitars. Ian and his instructor were in deep love with each other at the end of the lesson. This is going to work out.
An independent music store in the depths of suburbia? Jesus beards? The whole thing made me happy. We are trying out another place for keyboards next week.
On Saturday, I met two friends in the city. We browsed the ancient books in the Morgan Library, and then went downtown where I was on a mission to eat cool food. We went to a place that has elevated English pub grub to ridiculous levels. My friends were afraid to eat the pickled herring in the creme fraiche, so we got the garlic and rosemary french fries with some microbrew from the Bronx. Then we had dinner at another place in the East Village that specialized in farm to table food. Jesus-bearded chefs made fantastic maple brined pork.
Another tattoo covered chef.
And now David Brooks wants to build communes.
Apt. 11d 
Somebody needs to take David Brooks to a bar. Not me. And not my bar.
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That’s why he needs foundation to build communes, ’cause you won’t take him to a bar. Probably all his worst columns are your fault.
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Probably, but if MoDo would have stuck to whiskey like I told her, that would have solved on problem.
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Friends don’t let friends read David Brooks.
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I’m stuck at the pickled herring – it’s soooo good!
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C’s been taking guitar lessons in a similar environment since May (although ours is a chain). There’s a sort of uniform for male staffers of pony tail, sleeve of tattoos and (optional?) ear gauges and beards. I’ve seen an occasional person with that combo working at Starbucks, but it’s a real trip to go to a place regularly where all the male employees have it.
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but it’s a real trip to go to a place regularly where all the male employees have it.
Not completely related, but it make me thing about how I was in grad school (before going to the peace corps) with this guy for a couple of years. He wasn’t as, er, developed at the time, but, as he said, “everyone deserves to have a TA with horns at least once.”.
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Now that’s committing to the look.
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