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preppy

I think that there is a common misconception on what it means to be preppy these days. Preppy isn't a style. It isn't something tangible that you can deffinitively say, "oh look. that guys a prep." It's a way of life, a state of mind. Most people that I would catagorize as preppy, wouldn't necissarily call themselves such. the style of dress that comes from this is always an natural, and unforced style that just seems to suit the person. it's an unexamined look, that naturally looks nice. clothing designers try and imitate this look and market it to the masses, and these days have been quite successful. like j crew and vineyard vines, even the gap and banana republic. but if you examine what it means to be preppy you'll see that it's not something that you can buy, or put on. you don't have to be born of priveledge, but having gone to private school of some kind is almost prerequisite. Whether it's boarding or day, this kind of enviornment is pivotal to the growth and nurturing of the young prep. You can't buy culture or class, and that being said, another key to defining a prep is a love of art, literature and culture. you're average prep is a voratious reader and prides himself on having a solid knowledge of the finer things in life like wine, film, politics, and art. it's easy to be a pocketbook prep, who's trying to buy their way out of wherever it is they came from, but true prep is born deep within and can't be taken away. whether you're a builder or a banker, gardener or gourmand, it's an unappoligetic way to present yourself to the world. hold your head up high fellow preppies, it's a cruel world. i'm off to finish my glass of wine and head to bed.

Deer Tick

I recently came across a band that I love. Deer Tick is an alt-country act that really strattles many genre's with a deep gutteral voice booming over steel guitar, fiddles and an amazing rock-a-billy/outlaw sensibility. On the surface, there is an obvious punk influence as well, but the sonic force and originality of this young artist renew my faith that there are young guys out there making great music forward facing with healthy respect to the past. Another band that got me this excited a couple of years ago was Two Gallants, whose debut record, The Throes, blew me away with it's throw back song writing with nods to the delta blues, as well as Bob Dylan.
Solid stuff.

rain

I love it when it rains. Especially at the beach. I love a cool rainy autumn day at the beach. One of my favorite places in the world is Nantucket in October, with a light rain. Fishing in the morning and then reading by a fire while the rain taps out a methodic tone on the window. I should have lived in london or seattle. I get depressed when it's sunny for too long. there is something thereputic about a good rain, however recently I haven't been reading as much as I'd like, or as much as I used to, and a good hard rain always reminds me that I miss reading. Even the chill you get from being out in the rain for too long makes me feel good. taking a long hot shower when you're chilled to the bone is one of the greatest feeling in the world.

Saturday in the city

So, on Saturday night I went out with the boys in New York, we were supposed to meet up around 2pm and then head to Brooklyn for some good old fasioned drinking. Well, Brooklyn didn't really pan out. I got into the city around 1, and made my way from Harlem/125th st to the Upper East Side, where we were to all meet up, and the birthday boy was not there yet. He was to be on his way, so we went to lunch. after lunch we had ice cream and went for a windy walk in the park. three dudes eating ice cream and strolling along the river. a little suspect I know, but it was kinda nice. We went back to my friends apartment and watched baseball and waited for the birthday boy to arrive. He showed up around 4:30 with beer, and we all had a few and shot the breeze. then we went out to a bar and ate and drank like grown-ups, which doesn't happen all that often. This was to be the pre-game. from there some of us who were looking to get a little loose went to some less reputable establishments on the UES. Toward the end of the night, there were only two of us left and thinking that it was a good idea, we decided to stop and one last place on the way home. i'm really glad that we did. There were a couple of drunk trollops hanging out, being really loud and obnoxious. another group of girls called them whores, and it almost went to blows. I was rooting for it and thought that it would be fun to see a good old fasioned girl fight, but alas it was not to be. All in all, it was a tame night, and I'm a little embarrased that I don't have any good stories to relay.

please indulge my little rant

Before I get to talking about my adventures last night, I want to first talk about something that bothered me today as I was riding the train home. Before I left the city I grabbed my friends copy of the New Yorker to read on the excriciatingly painful ride home, hung over and with a bad case of the "I hate me"'s. whatever, that's not all that important. What is important is what is going on in publications that were once about culture and intellectual persuit. I'm not really an angel or puritanical in any way. I'm not a prude and I'm actually quite fond of expletives, and use them more often than I should. Some might even say that I talk like a sailor most of the time. But, that being said, I found myself getting increasingly more annoyed and almost offended by the fact that every story that I read was loaded with profanity. I mean, really. What's the deal? The New Yorker is a publication that should hold itself to a higher standard. It should be a beacon of culture and shouldn't dumb itself down. I realize that in todays society, the use of profanity isn't as shocking and inappropriate as it once was. and hearing four letter words constantly throughout the day isn't unusual, but is there any limit? At what point do you say enough? I feel like writing like that is lazy and lacks creativity.

an evening of sophisticated tippling

Well, my wife just left with the kids, and pretty soon I will be boarding a train to the center of the universe and for those who aren't aware, Manhattan is the center of the universe. I'm supposed to meet up with my friends to celebrate a birthday, and that part of the evening (or actually, the afternoon) will take place in Brooklyn. the place where the hipsters dwell. don't get me wrong, I love hipsters. I once aspired to be a kind of quasi hipster, but I was never really cool enough, and I don't wear glasses, and I don't believe in socialism, or think that Che Gueverra was the second coming. But, either way, Brooklyn will be fun. On normal occasions I believe that gentlemen don't drink before 5pm, and that cocktail hour is a sacred institution that is going the way of the wing tip and cravat, but on special occasions I will imbibe prior to the golden hour of 5pm, but only beer which is something I rarely touch. After my sojourn to Brooklyn, i will make my way into Manhattan where i will responsibly drink bourbon and making sparkling, coherent convrsation with anyone who will listen.
Have a lovely evening boys and girls.

introduction

Just a quick note to get things started. There are several things in which I consider myself, and one of those things is a WASP, which is an acronym for White Anglo-Saxon Protestent. There is no real significance to that, even though the title of this blog is Wasp Confidential. It was more of a place holder than anything else. If there are any other wasp's out there that happen upon this blog, then perhaps you've had some of the same or similar experiences that have made you the person that you are today. I know that being a wasp has somehow defined me and led me one way or another based solely on the way that other people have perceived me, but this isn't really about that! I just enjoy writing and thought that I had something to say that there may be a person or two interested in it.
So, now. I will try and post as often as I can, and I can assure you that it will be around cocktail hour (which is later now that I have kids), and with drink in hand, and song in heart I will talk about things that don't matter and maybe will make you laugh and perhaps think, but in the absence of those things, maybe it's better than watching bad reruns on television