Remember that bleeding edge stuff I was referring to a post ago? Well, on Thursday night I decided to try fixing what broke by reinstalling the operating system on my iBook. This was the first time I’ve ever had to do any kind of OS re-install on the laptop to fix a problem, something I used to have to do at least once every six months on my old PC, so I was really rolling the dice and going into uncharted territory on this one. Well, in the middle of my attempt to “archive and install” which should have saved all my precious data and cleared out the old OS, I got an error message.

Um, not good.

I tried restarting things, but now I couldn’t access the hard drive on my laptop. My data was safe but if I couldn’t get to it that would help me very little since the only way to get the OS up and running again would be to wipe the hard drive clean and start over. That wouldn’t have been so ban had my backups not been woefully out of date. At this point I stood to lose quite a bit, like years worth of e-mails and my entire music collection (including MP3 and iTunes Music Store purchases that I didn’t have CD copies of).

I did see one chance at getting all of those things back, but to do it would require an additional external hard drive. I had such a drive, but not enough free space to install a copy of OS X onto it and still be able to move all of the things I wanted to backup from the iBook once I got access. On top of that there were things I REALLY didn’t want to lose on that drive. I mean artistic works and office projects that I sunk large chunks of my life into. I already had one drive not working, did I want to chance Murphy’s law on drive number two? There had to be another way.

The other way happened to involve buying a new 120 GB Firewire drive and using that clean slate as my permanent archive. I even got a good deal on the drive itself due to a discount via the Apple Store and my .Mac membership. Considering that one computer repair shop wanted $90 and at least two days just to attempt getting my data back, I figured spending an extra hundred for a drive that could hold two times the amount of data I have and trying to fix it myself was a bit more cost effective. The down side was that I would have to wait until Monday for the drive to be delivered, so I had to find something to occupy myself with over the weekend.

So what to do in the interim? Why, clean house and lose money at poker of course!

For the first time in some years I managed to rope together some people interested in a friendly game of Texas Hold’em. I got the bug to play from watching the World Series of Poker on ESPN a few weeks back and I had quite a lot of change lying around, so I put the two together and wound up with a decent night’s entertainment. Of course I may want to play online a bit to practice my gamesmanship before the next time I play for cash, considering that I was losing way more than I was winning.

Finally Monday came and with it the FedEx delivery of my digital ark. Thankfully I can say that I was able to salvage every bit of the important data. There were a few wrinkles to iron out here and there, like settings and such but after just a few hours I’m back up to speed. I’ve also laid the groundwork so that I’ll never have to worry about losing such valuable info again. Remember to always back up your data kiddies, lest you be at the mercy of a rogue update or other such nonsense.

This past Friday I decided to make a break from my doldrums here in Jersey for the evening and hit NYC for a show and a night of wandering the streets. I took the train up with nothing more than my copy of “On the Road” to keep me company.

After wandering around the village a bit trying to get my bearings leaving the subway I eventually found the venue and paid my $15 at the door. The Lion’s Den was packed from left to right and front to back. My wanderings had cost me a few songs from the opening act, which I was soon to find out was a true crime.

The Jennifer Hartswick Band had managed to cram about 7 or 8 people onto a relatively small stage. The drummer and bassist were all but lost in the back and they had a keyboardist sitting far stage left on a part of the stage that looked like it was just there for the night’s performance only. I guess that’s what having a large horn section does in small venues. Actually, it made things feel all the more right; the band was as crowded as the audience was.

The music itself was very jazz, funk and soul influenced and Jennifer could belt out a tune like you wouldn’t belive. I moved up as far as I could to take it all in. The guy standing next to me just kept saying “wow” over and over and I could only concur. Every song kept impressing me more than the next one. They even pulled out a rocking cover of Chicago’s “25 or 6 to 4″ that had looking for my jaw somewhere on the floor.

During all this musical flabergastry I managed to interact with the crowd a bit. I found a few transplants from Alabama to talk to, one who had just moved to the city that night. Then there was the white bearded aging hippy who looked to be in his 70′s at the least, still moving about like a man half his age to the music. Someone told me that he was featured in Relix at some point because he makes it to so many shows. I can only pray I’m doing the same thing when I’m that old.

As the Hartwick Band took their bows and moved off stage, I made my way forward to the front for the reason I made my trip that night: The Jazz Mandolin Project. I figured that some people would give in to their inner lush and hit the bar between sets, but never did I count on enough people going that I would actually get to hang off the monitors at the front of the stage. Sweetness!

As they did the first time I saw them, Jamie Masefield and company wowed the hell out of me. What’s more, being so close I could see every twitch and flick of the wrist that made the music all possible. The drummer almost seemed to be double jointed at times he played so fast.

On top of all the goodness, I had it doubled for free. That’s right, two sets, two sets, TWO SETS for the price of one! Quite a pleasant surprise to wander into.

Eventually they got somewhat tired with playing regular instruments because Masefield broke out an assortment of slide whistles and other odd noisemakers while the drummer pulled out dinner knives and a roasting pan to use in addition to his regular kit. I would have laughed at the outrageous sight if they didn’t manage to make it sound unbelievablely good in the process.

The night ended with an encore cover of a Neil Young song; which one in particular I’m afraid I can’t say but I’d know it if I heard it. Afterwards I went to go get a slice of pizza for my empty stomach and to figure out what to do with the 5 hours I had left to kill before my train ride home could begin.

I decided to go take in some more music at a lovely little basement bar called Cafe Creole that I was introduced to some time ago. They always seem to have a great little trip playing. Few things in the world can compare to guitar, drums and a Hammond organ played by proficient musicians. They had people dancing and shouting in all corners of the bar, which is not much bigger than the bedroom I had left that morning. They played until sometime after 2 and called it a night. I took that as my cue to go find something else to do.

Now I could have hit any number of bars, but I was already comfortably buzzed and any more alcohol would have ruined it, so instead I decided to start wandering the streets of the Village, eventually making my way to SoHo before hopping an R train up to Times Square.

Yes, it might be considered somewhat touristy to check Times Square, but to be honest I like the touristy shit. I had my camera out and did my best to capture the some of the scene. Most of the video screens were off, thought the neon was still as bright as anything. I could feel the tiredness starting to creep in but it was only about 4:30 at this point, I still had an hour and a half to kill and my body was not cooperating with me. I figured I would cut my losses and hit Penn Station a little earlier than I planned. At least there I would have a seat.

I walked into the deathly silent waiting area. Half of the people were asleep and the other half we seemingly lost in their thoughts. I had bought a pretzel to munch on during my wait and I cringed every time the brown bag it was in rustled, half expecting someone to yell at me for making too much noise.

I did a lot of reading until my eyes got as tired as the rest of my body. I caught some unrestful sleep out of sheer necessity, but eventually my train got called and I was finally on my way home. I was certainly glad I made the trip out for the night, but I was equally as glad to see my bed that Saturday morning. While many were gearing up to watch their college football games, I was saying hello to Mr. Sandman as we compared notes from the show.

The Sandman is a big Jazz Mandolin fan, don’t ya know? ^_^

So here I sit, reclined comfortably in my couch-bed, glass of wine in one hand and a good book in the other. Headphones on delivering auditory distraction while the gentle gasps of Isabel’s outstretched arms rustle through my open window. Not like I plan my Thursday night to play out like this, but all things considered it’s not a bad way to spend it.

For the most part the big key to the utter enjoyment of my evening is that fact that I’ve kept my TV off for most of it; a practice that I don’t indulge in often enough. Maybe I should schedule more of these “TV free” nights more often.