So Now Then.

Those crazy kids over at Improv Everywhere! What will they come up with next?

Folks, we are in the middle of one hell of a heat wave in NYC. I can barely take two steps without having to wipe the pouring sweat off my brow. Which got me thinking about summertime, and how it always reminds me of running outside, barefoot on the scorching sidewalks, to chase down the Ice Cream Man. If he drove by my office today, I would surely run out and order everything he had. What's your favorite Popsicle® flavor? Mine is Cherry.

Thank God for Air-Conditioning. It's the only thing keeping me sane at this point. That, and Cut Copy's Ghost Colours, officially the album of the summer.

That's a clip from last night's Conan O'Brien of She & Him, my favorite group of the moment. They're seen here getting a little background help from friends Yo La Tengo.

Last night's She & Him show at Webster Hall, their first major performance, was amazing. Zooey Deschanel had lost her voice the previous night, so there was no between-song chitchat sadly, but it was made up in spades by her winning smile and her outward enthusiasm to be on stage in front of a packed house of very ardent admirers. I think I heard everyone around me comment on how cute she was.

2 more days till Europe! It was a great way to get me in the mood.

Hey neighbor, how's it going? You may not know my name, but I'm the tenant that occasionally exchanges niceties in the hallway with you. But hey, can I talk to you about something? It can't wait any longer. So, come in and take a seat. Maybe you can shed some light on a number of burning questions I've had for almost three (!) years:

• Do you enjoy bowling? More specifically, do you enjoy bowling inside your apartment? Are you buying vast quantities of grapefruit and then hurling them on the ground to perhaps knock over stacks of incredibly heavy books? Because from this angle, directly below you, it sure sounds like you're having a hell of a time up there. I can even wager you've gotten all strikes since starting this small hobby of yours. Also, is Sunday morning the only time you've found to do this? Is that when you're the most lucky? If so, then who am I to say to stop while you're ahead?

• You're a musician. Awesome. Listen, I'm all about artistic freedom, and completely understand the importance of rehearsing to get that song just right. However, is it necessary to employ 10 of your closest friends (and all of their instruments) for impromptu jam sessions at, say, Saturday at 11 a.m.? I mean, really? If that's the best time, then I certainly don't want to disrupt your flow - but if I can tell you one thing, just between you and me? Every time the band strikes a chord, it feels as if my forehead has been tightened into a vice then shoved with force into the hollow belly of that lucky kick-drum of yours. It may be music to your ears, but buddy, it's agony for my still-forming young mind to handle. Especially when somebody (yours truly) has had a little too much to drink the night before and doesn't need to be reminded of this fact with such brutal force.

• You've been living in that very apartment for almost three years. So why am I not entirely convinced you've finished moving in your stuff? There hasn't been a day that's passed where I haven't experienced the grunt and gruel of that hellacious big move of yours. Heavy boxes drag their heels on the ground. Large tables seemingly come crashing down from the ceiling. Chairs are being rearranged every five seconds. And your movers - are you hiring people or doing this yourself? - they tend to be wearing snow boots. And the sound they make - you know the one I'm talking about - is eerily similar to a horse's hooves on gravel. That's quite a wake-up call on a Wednesday morning, I'd say. Actually, If I had to guess, you're a man in desperate need of an Interior Decorator. Maybe I can provide you a number of someone to call - a way to finally realize your compulsive addiction of re-arranging your living room furniture every day. Pick a scheme and go with it, buddy. Your couch (and my nerves) will undoubtedly be grateful.

That's all I've got. The next time you hear muffled screams or the sound of a wrench banging the side of a radiator pipe, that's me - sending my encouragement of your artistic endeavors and your ultimate demise.

Best,
3B

On Tuesday, I waited outside the Apple Store in Soho to be one of the first to see Wes Anderson's new 13-minute short, Hotel Chevalier, which is a preface to his upcoming "The Darjeeling Limited."

Did I mention I waited outside for two and a half hours? That's a big sacrifice, one might think. But Anderson was there in-person with his two stars (Jason Schwartzman and Natalie Portman) for a post-screening Q&A - which was the real draw for this on-looker. How dissapointing it was then to arrive only to discover I couldn't see ANYTHING. I was stuck, along with my dear friend Alice, in the back of a ravenous crowd of long-necked giants! I don't consider myself to be short, but boy did I feel small.

I did get to see the film, now available to download for FREE on iTunes, however difficult it was to pull off. Like a great short story, it cuts out all the fat and hits to the heart of the matter. With a few select lines of dialog and the director's usual penchant (read: tic) for painstaking detail in costumes and set design, he achieves a sort of perfection. Go watch it for yourself and let's discuss.

Question: Is it just me, or does "The Darjeeling Limited" look (juding by the trailer) eerily similar to "The Life Aquatic"? Instead of a sea vessel, it's a train. I hope Anderson will eventually go somewhere drastically (and stylistically) different. And soon.