Iridecadence

Moon Phase I

2009-10-30T15:31:00.001-07:00

Champagne Thursday is a long-honored tradition born of class and bubbles. In a small but discriminative back room of a home nestled among the neighborhoods of the East Side a collective of compatriots gather every Thursday. These purveyors of the future settle themselves in the intimate space at staggered times. Each arrives after their commitment to studies varied but united in a hopeful and ambitious vision of the future for the week are completed. Yes, a week of work ending on Thursday eve. For some this may seem a preemptive weekend, but for those who work diligently must also party diligently.

The attendees are as focused on amusement as they are on their studies and careers. An unspoken dress code of fine vintage finds is respected by all. Precocious hand-knit scarves, fine alligator shoes and unique smoking jackets are common but complemented upon at each gathering. As with wardrobe, beverages are of a choice selection. Green bottles filled with bubbling golden liquid are abundant and overflow from the central table to hidden nooks on their way to the recycling bin (the revelers are of course environmentally aware even while embracing hedonism). Other green bottles of golden liquid, of the Irish variety, are passed around in an ages-old unceremonious ceremony of bonding. Corks pop, bubbles fizz and liquids slosh as conversation becomes relaxed and builds volume with the loosening of inhibitions.

This week, the collective celebrated an ancient pagan holiday by slightly modifying their dress. Class continued, but another veil of mystery and bewitchment was layered upon the already seductive event.

The members are not only dapper dressers and fine beverage connoisseurs, but talented artists.

Sing-a-longs are requisite for each evening. Dancing atop tables and couches occasionally occurs late into the marathon of hedonism.

Then things get weird. And a smudge happens upon my lens and naturally I do not notice it due to the glaze slowly settling over my eyes.

As written for publication by the Hobo New York Times.
*The photographer is aware many of these images are underexposed, but chose not to tamper digitally with the life of the images as hedonism and enjoyment often occur in the dark.

a lil wander

2009-10-25T16:10:00.000-07:00

A departure from people and the shiny lights of night to reflect on the general soup-making, hibernation-inducing, nap-taking, potluck-attending feel of the season.

A wander of the illustrious eastside of Lansing one fine fall eve:

Glenn Beck protest

2009-09-15T16:16:00.000-07:00

Here on MSU campus, Glenn Beck was paid $25,000 to give a speech to the Michigan Chamber of Commerce. Outside, some people held signs and chanted, arousing interest in the freshman crossing Harrison on their way back to cafeteria food in the Brojects.

The gentleman on the motorcycle was supporting Glenn Beck's presence by cruising Harrison Avenue with signs proclaiming Fox News not only credible, but "rock"-ing and Glenn Beck a good man. The reason most people cruise Harrison Avenue has something to do with the proximity of Brody Complex and its scores of freshmen.

Fun with capitals

2009-03-04T17:31:00.001-08:00

For some reason that seemed to be important an adventure was made to D to the C.

After a 12-hour bus ride things happened.
And then it was night and an anniversary of an important entrance to the world was celebrated with whiskey.
No pictures survive.

Then it was some ridiculous time in this part of the day people call 'morning'. More things happened.
And then it was night.

Washington bars were explored, and it was decided that whiskey is expensive in 'pubs' catering to ugly young business people. Ick.

And then it was morning. Things happened. More things happened. Caffeine was chugged and anxiety levels skyrocketed. A liter of Jameson was procured (for medical reasons, to relieve anxiety), because apparently that is sold in lieu of fifths at the many many many liquor stores of D.C.
Mount Vernon Square was dubbed appropriate for drinking because it had park benches.

Then sufficiently warmed cohorts headed into the aircraft-carrier of a convention center for a Roots concert. The lights were pretty and the photog was having fun with booze and colors.

Then there was a lame after-party made good by trying to make the hippie stair guard divulge what drugs/sex party was going on upstairs.

Then there was a train ride. With break dancers who wanted their pictures taken. On a moving train.

And other passengers who were not as gleeful.

And then it was morning. Things happened. It was night again and more bars were explored.

And then it was morning. Someone convinced the people who live at night to walk outside in a blizzard and stand around. This is what it looked like.

M m m myy Sharona

2009-02-16T15:03:00.000-08:00

Never gonna stop
give it up
Such a dirty mind

Valentines Day is a good day for drinking.

And dancing.

These are the parts of the night I recall before the sparkle of glitter tiger tattoos, the glow of heart-shaped lights stuck in crotches and the droplets of PBR blurred my eyes.

The Bang! is your all-occasions celebratory (and certainly not celibate) variety shop. Go there for more pictorial evidence.

Unicorn Bible

2009-02-03T13:55:00.000-08:00

At a holiday party in Ypsi on Sunday, it was decided we would all join the unicorn cavalry.

John, a former marine, informed us the first thing he asked after joining the prestigious United States armed forces was, "When do I get to train with swords? I would ask about the unicorn training, but it seems safer to me to learn sword basics before mounting my white unicorn."

Apparently, that was not the correct confirmation code for joining the top-secret deadly unicorn corps, because John was made to run 20 miles in the snow uphill for the next week. He never made sword training.

Point is, these images result from a night of mixing aspirations for joining the unicorn cavalry, free drafts, restaurant employees of Ypsi (notorious for their consumption of fine whiskeys and Michigan beer - a combo that would make the unicorn corps only stronger and more fierce), and that den of sin, the Elbow Room.

For added atmosphere, listen to Champions of Breakfast while enjoying these feasts of the eyes:

"Take a page out of the Unicorn Bible and dance all night under the light of the dragon's flame..."

There was also something happening on national television that Sunday, which distracted some people from saber training plans

The long and arduous trek to the Elbow is filled with obstacles like icy sidewalks, gravity stabilization issues and monsters lurking beneath phosphorous waters. Which is where having a unicorn would be advantageous.

John likes unicorns.

See and be scene

2008-11-17T16:44:00.000-08:00

{Insert children's song "It's a small world after all." Cue creepy children's voices.}

I may not soon see one of the crazy kiwis or aussies from the Good Mixer in London and China may not soon accept Tibetans for how they want to live, thus disproving the logic of a children's song, but EL is a small town. This past Friday, the Hard Lessons, Oh My God and Gogo Yugo were all at the Small Planet out on Chandler Road.

And Christmas was here.

At the door, a man demanded proof that I was who I said I was and $10. That is correct, $10 for a bar that has never proven its worth in adventures for me before. If Peggy were not behind me and my chauffer for the night, I would have turned right around and walked out of that strip mall. And then walked the 2 miles back to East Lansing (the distance made me give the guy my cash - as an aside, apparently one of the bouncers was fired on the spot that night for embezzling cover). At this time, I only knew Gogo Yugo were playing.

Gogo Yugo were on stage when Peg and I walked up to the bar. The admission must be made that Peg and Dave, the bass player of Gogo, are good friends of mine, therefore the band will have an advantage in my evaluation. However, Gogo Yugo is a genuinely entertaining band. Granted, the sound guy was not living up to his job for the first band, but Gogo were energetic beyond the projection of their sound. Some of the 100 or so people sitting at tables were even swaying about and it was far too early in the evening for them to be very far into their spirits.

Some Monday past, Peg and I had gone to Rendezvous on the Grand to see Gogo and had a grand ole time. A man sitting at the bar smiling to himself with a white puff of hair atop his head began watching us instead of the beer taps when we sat down five stools away from him. When Gogo started into their set, the white top man came swaying over to us and asked us if we had gotten our exersise for the day. He insisted we should start a dance party on the floor. At this point, I took a quick survey of the entire establishment and counted no more than 25 people in the bar including the staff, band members of three bands and the parents of one band member. I was fairly certain a dance party would be very limited in party favors. We declined in a courteous manner and continued to drink to make sense of the situation. Later, after I had taken photographs of Gogo, the whitetop came back over and rhetorically asked, "You're a special girl, aren't you?" Crazy guy called me crazy. At least we can recognize one another.

Point is, on both occasions, Gogo Yugo was entertaining. Entertaining even before I had multiple whiskeys.

(photos from Rendezvous on the Grand)

While Peg was talking to people she knew, I recognized a man with a wild billow of curly black hair messing with speakers as the keyboardist of Oh My God.

After arguing with the sound guy for 15 minutes between sets, Oh My God rocked the stage, drawing the audience to its feet only to throw carrot and celery sticks at them. The band delivered "February 14" and "Get Steady" which I sang along with in addition to songs from their new album Fools Want Noise. I stopped attempting conversation with people I vaguely knew and sat entranced by the three men jumping about the stage and intimidating the crowd with insane facial expressions and removal of their shirts.

The Hard Lessons are adorable and they will rock you. The woman on the keyboards has a phenomenal voice, almost in the twangy country music way, but with the flavorings of Ypsilanti or Detroit dive bar cool kids added. The guy on guitar looks fairly unassuming, until he hurls the mike stand repeatedly against the floor of the stage and crashes his way through the audience to a table he wants to stand on. And their songs are pretty good, too.

Fated to pretend

2008-11-17T15:11:00.000-08:00

A brief photographic review of the hedonistic hell that was Halloween 08

Halloween weekend in EL

Moon phase one

Moon phase two

And the following week, because for those of us with imaginations (or faulty wiring in our cerebrums) Halloween was far from over. In all actuality, Halloween never ends.

In Ann Arbor, above a curry house.

No need to ask my name to figure out how cool I am

2008-10-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

The monthly dance riot that is the Bang! occurred last Saturday. In Ann Arbor. This location can lead difficulties in placing yourself on the dancefloor of the Blind Pig if you happen to live 70 miles away, say in East Lansing and do not own a vehicle. Thus, I have created a simple decision-making graph for your ease.

(or, click on image if you are too old to read the type)

Once you arrive, follow the natural process of pre-Bang! activities; this will help to alleviate stress accumulated during the last month and prepare your body for the beating it will take at the Blind Pig.

Procedure:
1. Put on clothes. Naturally, this will mean taking off more clothes than you put back on.

2. Apply make-up and fix hair.

3. Mix first vodkaredbull*. Notice this step occurs after step 2. After. If you are short on time, it is allowable to insert step 3 midway through step 2.

4. Pound second and third vodkaredbull. Take shots while waiting for cab.

5. Take pictures of how your outfit is supposed to look.

6, 7, 8...the rest gets a bit blurred, will report later on developments.

*Definition of first vodkaredbull: half a glass ketel one vodka, half a can red bull. The equalized chemistry is perfect for this cocktail.

Political party

2008-10-21T10:57:00.000-07:00

Elections are owning photographic space in the media now (it's either that or crazy-faced financial people - like this ham). Angry and strange photographs of McCain abound, Palin's face and legs are everywhere - and by everywhere, I mean media savvy blogs and satirical cable shows - and attempts to make Obama seem like a huggable professor appear on first pages. However, rarely are the alternative choices given their 15 minutes of fame.

Here is the photogenic presidential alternative.

The candidates

Photo-ops with the candidates

Intimate photo-ops with the candidates

A power couple

Candids - to show the candidates are just like you, except more fabulous.

Who are the supporters of these fabulous nominees?

Your average Jack, Jim or Jameson.

What issues are important to them?

The right to bare...anything.

Freedom of expression.

The downfall of the economy, global warming and the subsequent effects these events will have on the centrifugal forces of the rotation of the earth. Gravity exists now, but what happens when the sky falls?

Will efforts be made to help the common American back on to their feet?

Who will come to the rescue?

And will their assistance be appreciated and accepted by the public?

Demo for a Saturday night

2008-10-13T22:20:00.000-07:00

Saturday

Warm-up for the evening:

1. Meet at local blues bar. Observe local middle-agers jiggling around the dance floor to classic sexy sounds like "Superstition." Sharpen sarcastic wit for later use.

2. Ride on the very narrow seat of a road bike desperately clinging to the shirt of the person pedaling to the next bar. Approximately half a mile. Approximately amazing no crashes were involved.

3. Arrive at local watering hole with arms raised in 'V' for victory. Or, if you happen to be upside-down, 'A' for alcohol.

4. Realize a disposable camera is stashed in your messenger bag awaiting the appropriate BAC level.

The main event:

Record your surroundings.

Eat pizza with inch-deep cheese.

Get to know your bartender. He's the best. And he controls the booze flow.

And, if you're lucky, give you amazing sunglasses he found. Then take posed pictures.

And more pictures. See, I told you he's a good guy.

Unfortunately, bars in Michigan close their doors at 2 AM. You, however, may be beginning to feel the energetic sugars of whiskey flowing through your veins at this time. Bid adieu to your bar friends and their morning responsibilities, hop on your bike (responsibly, you are not operating a motor vehicle) and speed to your local college town. It's Saturday, after all, and you know people.

Arrive at large house. From previous research, you know the best hours spent here start after the bars close. The residents are just hitting their peak performance hours at the turn of the days.
Walk purposefully through rooms until people you know greet you.
Share some refreshments.
Take pictures.

Dance.

Chat.

Pose for pictures that you will laugh hysterically at when they are developed. That was your sexy photo face?!

Give the disposable camera to strangers who are somehow now a great friend. They will take candids.

Look crazy. There is a full moon.

Take pictures with people you will not recognize in the morning.

Wake up Sunday morning. Slowly piece together information from the night as the brain recollects itself. Check Facebook and your email outbox for specifics on who you tried to contact at 6 AM before dozing off.