UFO, Please Take Her Home
Last night, one stop mutated into three. First, we headed over to W. 31st for a graffiti art event, where we watched an established Brazilian graffiti artist paint in a stark white loft of an art space with a 360 degree view of the rainy city. He wasn't wearing a mask, though, and I worry about what's going to happen to all of those Brazilian brain cells. I guess that is the price you pay for art -- your brain.
Then we trekked down to 41 Rivington for a Beaujolais Nouveau wine tasting with a bunch of Australian film makers. Even though the free wine was flowing, I had never made a toast to a divorce before and it felt appropriately coarse.
Finally, we ended up at Home Sweet Home to help some DJ celebrate his birthday. Bonus points for shamelessness: take a slab of concrete, give it a liquor license, throw some hipsters in there, and slap a cozy name on it.