The Night Blogger Blogs Alone
One thing that happens is that you stop speaking altogether. One Thursday afternoon, shifting between various gchats—all with friends bored in their cubicles at offices across the city—I realized that I hadn’t said a word out loud in close to 18 hours. So I said "test" out loud. For a split second, before the word came out, I was actually worried about whether or not I was still able to speak. After I found that I could, I then worried about the fact that I had been legitimately worried about this. READ MORE
Tonight: The Underground Rebel Bingo Club!
The last time I played bingo, I was sitting cross-legged on my mom's lap sipping on a Shirley Temple. Some 15 years later, I found myself in a crowd of similarly dressed, fidgety, disaffected New Yorkers. It was nearly midnight on a Friday night last month and we were packed, nearly a thousand of us, in front of the stage at Warsaw at the Polish National Home in Brooklyn. All eyes were on a woman whose hair and face were done up as if she was going as Amy Winehouse for Halloween. She sashayed across the stage, sporting a tummy-bearing sequined red top and small blue-and-white shorts, toward a man dressed more modestly in a white button-down and jeans. The woman, Luki "Danger" Goddi, whispered in the man's ear, as the crowd-so silent you could hear an iPhone text message alert-watched. Finally our host, James Flames, spoke: "Ladies and gentlemen, the verdict is in. Is Diana here"-he motioned at a girl standing beside him, whose face has turned so pale you would think she was on stage with James Franco-"is Diana here the winner of this gigantic inflatable soccer ball?" There was a dramatic pause "No... no, ladies and gentlemen... she's not!" READ MORE
