Good Times Roll Pt. 2

Last weekend was the Tribeca Film Festival and, although I spent the bulk of my time in Tribeca, went to quite a few festival parties and brainstormed ideas for movies, I unintentionally managed not to see a single film. Seriously, though, who has the patience to sit in a dark movie theater for two hours, when you are surrounded by so many more entertaining distractions?
There was, however, plenty of running around, bars, dancing, etc., a hypnotic dream room speakeasy (I don’t even know how to explain that one), an Ivanna Trump sighting (standing ten feet away from the blonde trillionaire, I swear she smiled at me, although she’s had so much work done to her face that she probably smiles at everybody), an exhibit of African rooftop dwellers, at the International Center of Photography (even though these were slum rooftops, I cannot think of anywhere I’d rather live than a rooftop), a Jeff Mills set (unfortunately underwhelmed), followed by a 4:30 AM molten wine nightcap with DJ Spooky (brandy library, swanky), a concentrated conversation on identity politics, between Salman Rushdie and Amartya Sen (holy moley, what an organized brain), at the New York Public Library, and, in stark contrast, a live performance of Point Break at Galapagos in Brooklyn (Seattle is taking over Brooklyn and, at $12 a ticket, making a killing. Suckers). And, as if those distractions did not sufficiently fill my weekend quota, on the train ride home last night, I sat next to, of all things, a pet duck.

That, my friends, is how you have a proper New York weekend and this is how you cure the Monday blues.