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January 29, 2007
I'm back from New York: And apologies for not tipping off most of my New York friends that I'd be in town -- it was a packed, last-minute trip that lasted for less than 24 hours and didn't leave me much time to hang.
Every trip to New York gives me a charge. It's the place where people go to give up on their dreams or pursue them with gusto. From a creative standpoint, it's a lot like traveling to Europe (minus the long flight, awful exchange rates and feeling like a foreigner). I'm dog tired when I get back but I want to work, throw some more irons onto the fire and get some more projects in motion.
Over dinner last night we worked out details for promoting Blood & Volume and finalized some loose ends for the book release party on March 8. Over breakfast we hashed out the outline for a new project, a screenplay that's part "Wall Street," part "Blow" and part "Old School." Over lunch we networked with someone who may have contacts we can exploit to distribute the documentary. All that in addition to the real reason why I was there (a job interview -- more on that later).
But the highlight was not work related. It was a trip to Chumley's.
 I have been to Chumley's about half a dozen times before. It's an old speakeasy with no signage on its exterior. Just a door as if it were the entrance to an expensive Greenwich Village apartment. Chumley's is rich in history -- if you've ever used the term "86 it," you can thank Chumley's: "According to legend (which party pooper McDermott disputes) the term '86 it' for 'kill it' or 'forget about it' comes from a warning the cops would give, phoning ahead to Chumley to let him know they were on the way and customers should '86' or book out the entrance/exit."
I had been there about half a dozen times before, but have never really picked up on how literary it is. We sat in back and soon noticed the framed jackets of famous (Catcher In The Rye, The Great Gatsby) and not-so-famous (UFO Exist!) books. A note on the menu said that the jackets decorating the bar are from books written by guests of Chumley's.
I was a guest of Chumley's and I immediately wanted the B&V cover on a wall. Even if it does look like someone dropped their kids on it, it's an eye-catching cover that would jump off of those walls. It would be installed long after smoking was banned in New York bars, meaning it wouldn't be as faded as, say, the cover of Calvin Trillan's book, so it may stand out and move a few copies.
A waitress told us the note on the menu was "bull shit." To get a cover on the wall I'd have to talk with the owner and show that I was a regular at Chumley's (geography makes that difficult). To make it more difficult, the owner is vacationing until the end of March.
"Or you could just slip it in when no one was looking," the well-tipped waitress said. "No one would notice."
I should have copies of the book in another couple of weeks and will hopefully have reason to be in New York shortly thereafter. I'll try to convince the owner I'm a regular, but even failing that, don't be surprised if you see the B&V jacket up there sometime soon.Labels: bloodandvolume, books, newyork, travel
Posted at 8:52 PM
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