Rebel Prince

Also in the Times magazine is an interview with Rufus Wainwright, who just bought a Gramercy Park one-bedroom apartment.

Morning routine: When I’m not touring or working a lot I usually get up at 11. I sleep in the nude and I walk around nude in my apartment, so I’ll make coffee and then sit at the piano. I usually play piano for a good two hours in the buff. There is no view from any of my windows, just a view of building walls, which most people might feel closed in, but the fact that I’m such a “naturalist” and a musician, the privacy is just great. Then I watch C-SPAN for like an hour and a half, get dressed up and go for a long walk around the city. And that’s usually when I write a lot of lyrics.

C-SPAN? Who’d have guessed?

What he takes with him on tour: On tour, the less you have with you, the better. At the end of the tour you always end up with crateloads of junk. People give you a lot of stuff on the road. If you ask for something onstage, it usually shows up at your hotel the next day.

The last thing he asked for: Underwear. And a lot of underwear would be thrown at me when I was onstage. Right now I’m trying for a flat-screen TV, a fireplace, and a chandelier.

So, kids, next time you see him, be sure to bring a housewarming gift for his new place. And take care throwing that chandelier onstage.

22:49 | Permalink | TrackBacks (0) | Comments (1)

The Times’s fashion coverage usually skews toward women’s fashions, but Sunday’s magazine covers the men. And we like that. (Link via Jeff, who makes special note of Jeremy Bloom. Yum.)

By the way, a good site for photos from all the men’s fashion shows is GQ UK. (I have Stephen to thank for telling me about the site a while back.)

22:44 | Permalink | TrackBacks (0) | Comments (1)

Ah, welcome back to Rebel O’Prince, and happy St. Patrick’s Day. I knew St. Pat figured into my family history somehow—no, silly, I’m not Irish, though I will accept kisses today—and last night I was trying to remember. It was on the tip of my brain, and then finally I got it: the church at which my parents were married, two days after Christmas just over 28 years ago, was St. Patrick’s, a small church (now dwarfed by a Marriott hotel) in downtown San Francisco. Another association: my cousin Leah’s birthday is today. Cheers! (And the birthday of Six Feet Under’s Mathew St. Patrick is, yes, St. Patrick’s Day. What are the odds?)

We going a-drinking tonight, Thom?

[By the way, the Google logo is looking pretty today.]

12:41 | Permalink | TrackBacks (1) | Comments (0)

The Times’ Ed Levine is back from his quest:

A month ago I set out to explore the state of the cheesecake in New York City, and thereby, I hoped, to find the city’s best. Thirty days, 30 sojourns across the city, and more than four dozen cheesecakes later, I can attest to the health of our shared cheesecake culture. Opinions about cheesecake are, of course, as multitudinous in New York as its citizens. Tempting as it may be to do, I will not crown a “best” cake, but seven of them.

Now, how exactly do I go about becoming a food critic?

10:02 | Permalink | TrackBacks (0) | Comments (0)