Laugh as you may, I wholly believe and have accepted into my little black heart that the electro rock band Miike Snow is conspiring my downfall in life. For the sake of sanity (or lack thereof) I shall heretofore recognize Miike Snow as one individual, rather than the trio of producing team Christian Karlsson and 
Last Saturday night, while the streets were lined with the stench of stale beer and the remains of Kelly green party favors, something magical was taking place in the East Village where a crowd of people were crammed tightly into a small, dark space. Most sat, a few stood. Songs of the old school variety 
For all you haters out there saying, “Man, I wish we had a little more winter this year. Like, where was the snow?” Shove it. The snow went away because it realized how much it sucked. Warm weather was like, “Hey bud, no hard feelings, but seriously, no one likes you. It’s awkward, but they 
There’s a brain on a city wall. The wall is brick, but the red is shaded in white with electric green lighting bolts shooting out. That’s yours. That’s your brain. The potential it has to create. Just focus on it. Grab a paintbrush. Grab a can. Grab a mic, a pencil, a pen, anything. Get 
There are no explosions in Max Weinman’s films. There is no sex, except perhaps a sudden caught breath in a forest scene, which subconsciously represents the first flicker of lust. There’s no cursing. No drugs. Very few people. Talking. Sound. And with those qualities stripped we’re left with a beautiful commentary on wanderlust and an 
As someone lying to you about being born on February 29, to make this post seem more credible and contextually on point, let me tell you: It’s hard being a leap year baby! It happens once every four years, and people are all like, “Wait, there was’n’ a February 29th last year?” No. There wasn’t. 
Walking up to the venue, my friend turned to me, confused. “Is that the space?” She pointed. “It looks tiny.” Indeed The City Winery appeared to be a corner store. Hardly a spot for a lavish dinner event, followed by an intimate affair with the Haitian great, Wyclef Jean… but then my eyes shifted. It 
If Ayelet Blumberg were a dog, she would be a Jack Russel Terrier. She’s small, friendly and a ball of energy. She’s loved and worked with dogs her entire life, but only recently devoted personal time to creating a dog training business with Sabra Dog Training. “I was extraordinarily unhappy and I realized that my 
