Newcott Blog

Chris came through again and got me into his office Christmas party.  This time, we were in L.A. at the Magic Castle.  Talk about unique.  This place is an old Hollywood mansion that was long ago converted into a private club for members of the magician’s guild.  If you know someone in the guild, you can get a pass to visit for a meal or drinks  at one of its many bars.  The mansion has mazes of rooms on multiple levels.  Many of the rooms are for dining, there is a bar on each level, and there are several theaters.  In addition magicians mill around doing some of the most amazing card tricks I’ve ever seen.  There is also a magic piano in a parlor next to the main bar.  It is played by Irma’s ghost.  If you ask Irma a question, make a request, and tip her well, she will play almost anything you would like to hear.  It was definitely a magical experience, and I’m surprised that after 6 years in SoCal, this was my first time there.

Since 9th grade, it has been a dream of mine to attend a live taping of Saturday Night Live.  To me, those were the golden years of SNL:  Wayne and Garth, Chris Farley, Adam Sandler, Chris Rock.  In October, during my trip to NYC, Chris got Bowis, Nick, and me in to see a live taping.  The experience was very cool and it happened so fast.  During commercial breaks, you watch the shuffling around the compact set designs.  Bon Jovi was the host with Foo Fighters as musical guest.  Both bands ended up playing and it was like being at an exclusive rock concert.  I think the music was the best part of the show.  During the skits, I mostly watched the television monitors, so it was a little like being at home.  But the after party with the crew and talent was very surreal — all the actors were there, in this little bar, hanging out like normal people.  I even ran into Will Farrell.  I left the after after party at 5:00 am.  Thanks for the awesome night, Chris.

On Saturday, Silas and I rode the model trains in Costa Mesa.  There is a very cool park in Costa Mesa called Fairview Park.  It’s a wide open space on the edge of the Costa Mesa plateau.  A non-profit group that built several miles of model railroad track.  Every third weekend of the month the group of friendly, mostly gray-haired model engineers give free train rides on 6 or 7 gas powered trains.  They are about a 10th the size of a full-train.  15 riders per train straddle special cars.  It’s a little boys dream, and Silas is very into it.  This weekend they had Santa setup at a special mid-route station.

Silas has some weird, unknown (and hopefully not serious) sickness — the only symptom of which is that he thows up at random intervals through out the day. Thursday night, he threw up 5 times. Bronwen and I spent the night doing laundry and changing his clothes. It breaks your heart to see this sweet little boy crying because he can’t stop heaving. We made it through the day yesterday without any eruptions, so one would expect the whole sickness to be over. Not so fast hot shot. At midnight and one a.m., it starts again. But since he’s not feeling sick with any other symptoms, he still wants to eat and drink. That means, come morning, it’ll be time for a hearty breakfast. At 9:00 a.m. I was driving with Silas to meet some friends for a 5K walk around Balboa Island. Half way there, he pukes all over the back seat of my car. Picture me by the side of the road, scooping puke out with my bare hands. Silas is in tears. I had to drive all the way home with Silas soaking in his own puke. I don’t ever want to get in my car again. I may donate it for a tax deduction.

I apologize for the picture.  Poor little guy.

Boston has changed a lot since the late 90’s. I went to Boston University between 1995 and 1999. On the afternoon I had free, I went for a long run from the center of town out to Alston. I started at Park Street Church, the church I used to go to on Sunday nights. I ran through Boston Common, up Newbury Street, up Beacon Street, through Kenmore Square, past Fenway Park, up Commonwealth Avenue, through the length of the BU campus, and to the house in Alston that I rented with a group of 6 guys during our last year in school. Kenmore Square is the most changed area I ran through. Kenmore Square is the giant intersection of Beacon St. and Commonwealth Ave (plus several other streets). In 1995, the place was a dump. Today it sparkles with new hotels and clean sidewalks. Kenmore has always been the primary T stop for Fenway Park, and the unofficial beginning of the BU campus. Cleaning up the area was inevitable. But I miss the way it was. There was a 24-hour IHOP — a great place to go and talk with a girl friend or a buddy for hours over a bottomless cup of coffee. There was a gnarly late-night pizza place called Nemo’s — we’d hit it after a night of partying or working. There was a punk bar/venue called the Ratskellar — the interior walls were covered with giant rubber rats with glowing red eyes, and a metal door that was alway guarded by the biggest skinhead doorman you’ve ever seen. And a local homeless guy named Mr. Butch called this corner of Kenmore his home — Mr. Butch was a 7 foot tall Rastafarian with huge dreadlocks, deep black blood-shot eyes, and an electric guitar. He was the friendliest homeless guy you’d ever meet. He’d say the craziest things, usually speaking in rhymes. I’m not joking. He would have a nonsensical, obscene conversation with you in expletive-filled, rhyming verse. He had this husky, forced voice, and he would sometimes drift in and out of singing whatever words he was saying.  If you got close to him, he’d try to shake your hand, so you had to be quick if you wanted to avoid touching his huge, calloused, dirty hands. I knew I wanted to write about Mr. Butch today, so I decided to Google him, and sure enough, there he is on Wikipedia and YouTube. I am sad to read that he died this past Summer, 2 months before I was there and might have had a chance to see him again. Check him out if you like (click on the links at the bottom to see videos or real news articles). Mr. Butch, this one’s for you.