Thank god it’s Tuesday! I’m going to plead the fifth about most of what I did over the fourth, but I can say that everything hurts. This was a four-day weekend for me and I’m only designed for two. I stayed in NYC to get some work done but did go to a few events. Alas, I also missed some that I wanted to attend. Top on my list of things I wished I’d done was the Patrick Duffy launch of the BES Beach & Bocce Club on the rooftop of the Chelsea Art Museum.
In an e-mail where he honored me with a “founding member” designation, Patrick offered the club’s mission statement:
The B.E.S. Beach and Bocce Club on the rooftop of the esteemed Chelsea Art Museum, in association with the Jean Miotte foundation and Albert Trummer of Theatre Bar. The club is a daytime and evening experience wherein art lovers will participate in creative programming, live performance, health and wellness, philanthropic efforts, art happenings and visionary collaborations with like-minded individuals in a relaxed atmosphere for the artistic world and those who love them. The club will also feature the first open-air donation-based Bocce court in NYC. Additionally, the rooftop will feature rotating installations from globally recognized artists. All proceeds benefit the Chelsea Art Museum.
It seemed like the perfect place to watch the fireworks and sip cocktails but I wasn’t in charge this weekend, and other less fabulous plans evolved. If I was there I would have wondered aloud to Patrick about the confusion and litigation over the name B.E.S.. Patrick’s old haunt B.E.S. still wears that moniker and it’s just downstairs and across 22nd Street. Now, I don’t know too much about trademark laws, but I do know that confusion like that is a no-no. Patrick claims he owns the name while the management team of the still operating “old” B.E.S. claim the same. There seems to be little doubt that one day when everyone was getting along Patrick registered the name. Whether he had the right to do it under his name and exclude his partners is up to the discretion of learned judges. Up until this weekend it was all theoretical — now that there are two joints operating with virtually the same name and bad blood between parties. Something’s got to give. Stay tuned. Over the weekend, the days were spent eating at my favorite Williamsburg restaurants with friends who were not familiar with the Brooklyn renaissance. I invariably show newbies Brooklyn Bowl as a starting point, before I drag them down into the trenches. It’s a place they can understand and gush over. I attended a soiree there last Tuesday hosted by Sailor Jerry. My pal Dana Dynamite was gushing over a fleet of Airstreams that Sailor jerry, her client, was parking at cool affairs all over the country. I went to see it. It is fabulous and I want one for my summer vacation. Think Chevy Chase without a chance of the hot babe in the convertible showing up. I am planning to take the posse on a cross country late August to see America. I used to do this trip every few years but haven’t in awhile. I think America and I have changed…probably. Sometimes I have trouble recognizing myself in the mirror and I’m wondering if I’ll recognize the motherland.
Brooklyn Bowl was slammed. Most had come to see Mariachi El Bronx, which as far as I can figure, is an “in” joke that actually has chops. The L.A.-based hardcore punk/hard rock band The Bronx has found success as a mariachi act and have even put out an album. I was bowling and eating chicken while watching and I have to say it was fabulous for me for about 10 minutes. I usually get my mariachi fix on the subway. I didn’t know if I should give them a dollar. The crowd loved it and a good time was had by all. I was obsessed with the bowling and Dana and all the Sailor Jerry stuff and I’m sure I didn’t appreciate how magnifico they were. The next day I wished I had watched more of it as my bowling arm was in awful shape.
Don’t call me today. I think the Tuesday after three-day weekends should be a day of few phone calls and little work. I’m taking a 5-hour energy drink and heading west to NYC.