Coming to Fruition
On learning to live in the moment that you've been waiting for. A new show launch, AI thinks Chet Faker is my bff, and the Knicks, because, well, they are the greatest team that has ever existed?
I am terribly bad at being here now. One of my very first bosses was an enigmatic talent manager who handed out Ram Das’ classic guidebook to all of his clients (and his one intern). The basic gist is self-explanatory: be present. Stop focusing on what you cannot control (the future) and live in the moment (the now) because the moment is all we got.
It’s really a lovely premise. This was before the dopamine era, btw. This was like 2008. I think I had a Blackberry Bold? Remember when BBM was the problem? UGH what I wouldn’t give to not need this small computer I love so much. This is an aside.
The point I am attempting to make is that experiencing your life as you live it is the way the thing is meant to be enjoyed, and that it is very hard to do that. Anxiety, fear, general comparing-yourself-to-others-and-despairing-that-they-have-more-better-faster are quick ways to lose this blissful experience of being present. At least for me.
Recently, things have been happening. This year has been a plant-and-let-grow for me, and finally some of the fruits are starting to bear. I am very grateful they are here, and I’m trying to remember that said enjoyment should be enjoyed, and not rushed past in an effort to worry about that next thing that has not happened yet.
For instance, a podcast launch
I’ve been working with Olivia Ponton for several months now, helping her re-boot a book club turned video podcast called Booked, Blonde and Busy. Building a show is a labor of time and love. It is ridiculously easy these days to write off how much effort and attention goes into a 45-minute piece of weekly content that you half listen to on your way to the gym. But it’s a lot, and it’s fun, and attention requires more work than ever these days, especially if you’re competing with every psy-op out there.
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Last week, she celebrated the S2 launch with a party on the lower east side, where I was the oldest person by about 10 years. Nothing makes you remember you are not actually 26 like being around 100 26-year olds. This is growth.
It’s so easy to see the Variety article and move on to the to-do list. But for one night and a few lingering days, it’s been nice to enjoy what is just the very beginning.
Speaking of labors of love…
The Village Confectionery opens June 13th. In twelve days, my friend (and new, old business partner) Kate Bolger will open the doors to her vintage candy shop in Sleepy Hollow, New York that she has been obsessing over for years. The pitch is simple: a Halloween town with no candy store. Until now.
As a former (and current, more on that later) filmmaker, Kate is one of those people who will not let a detail go until it is exactly right. And on June 13th, when people are standing in line - and they will be standing in line, as she has created a viral sensation months before opening her doors - I will try very hard to just watch it happen instead of thinking about what we need to post next.
Follow @thevillageconfectionery. Mark your calendar. I’ll see you in Sleepy Hollow on June 13th.
Or things that are a long time coming
If you’re not new here, you know I am a Chet Faker fan. So does Gemini?
Sadly the above is not based in reality (AI can be wrong sometimes ? What?!) But Nick, if you’re reading this, do text me because I would love to get some Coopers Pale Ales and shoot the shit.
Anyway, the Australian chillwave singer-songwriter stopped by Pier 17 this past weekend for the culmination of the tour I told you about earlier this year. And we went, boy did we. It was my first time seeing him live (again, the AI was wrong. How?!) and it felt like such a surreal run-in, like seeing someone you’ve zoomed with for years in person for the first time.
It is wild: an artist whose entire catalog you know by heart, whose record you have played infinity times, whose tracks have dotted playlists you’ve made with real impact. To suddenly, unspontaneously see them in concert for the first time fifteen years after you first heard their music, is spectacular.
And to make matters better, Chet (Nick, yeah it’s confusing, you’d get it if you were also close friends and collaborators with him) was lights out fantastic.
He was joined by two bandmates and they went through many of the past hits and all of the new ones, including his spectacular cover of No Diggity and his unforgettable track Birthday Card off of the little played but absolutely epic EP he made with producer Marcus Marr. My amateur video here:
Living is finally seeing the band you love a decade and a half after you found them. A couple of tequilas helped me be here nower than most times. (I did regret it when Sadie awoke at 6AM the subsequent morning, but hey, you can’t win em all.)
And the New York Knicks.
Jalen Brunson, OG Anunoby, Josh Hart, Mikal Bridges, Karl Anthony Towns.
Oh, and Mitchell Robinson, Landry Shamet, Deuce McBride, Jose Alvarado, Jordan Clarkson. Not to mention Tyler Kolek, Jeremy Sochan, Mo Diawarra, Pacome Dadiet, and Ariel Hukporti.
These men are the 2026 New York Knicks, the Eastern Conference Champions, the team of motherf*cking destiny. They have 11 straight wins, the two playoff losses each by 1 point. Their average win is by 23.8 points.
And they are NOT THE FAVORITE IN THE NBA FINALS?!
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Victor Wenbanyama, you are consummately impressive. Now go run and hide, because the Knicks are coming. You’ll have to find a cave with very high ceilings.
This finals marks 27 years since the Knicks last appearance, coincidentally also against the Spurs. It has been 53 years since the Knicks won the title. The energy in New York is thick and palpable. The MSG Finals tickets (I’m sure you’ve seen) rival the cost for good seats at the Super Bowl. The city will absolutely be on fire when (not if) the Knicks start cruising towards the Larry O’Brien trophy.
How can I be so confident?
I am not! I am projecting and this could all go terribly, terribly wrong. Look. I am not a day one die hard. I did not start following this team in a serious and obsessive way until about six years ago. But I have been a New Yorker for nearly twenty years. My dog is named Oakley after the greatest power forward of all time. My daughter hugs a Patrick Ewing teddy bear every morning for good luck. I subscribe to that app so I can watch regular season games and listen to Mike Breen. This is my fkin team.
And though I did not personally face the missed finger roll, the Kristaps disappointment, or what it was like to lose to Tim Duncan in 1999, I can tell you that my wife certainly did, and watching her watch these games from behind her fingers for the last six years has taught me much.
The NBA Finals. A best of seven to decide everything. If New York wins, this city will find the fruition it so desperately deserves. And I’m gonna be here for it.
Two weeks from now, a summer mixtape. A recipe. A dispatch from the finals. And more. Tell your friends to get on the bandwagon before the parade hits the streets.
XX
Jay
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