Atlanta, we've had our shits. We've had our giggles. On numerous occasions, I've felt mild discomfort and even more discomforting elation while having both in the same place. But it's time for me to move on.
I didn't want to break up by phone so I'm coming out with it. Come the issue of Dec. 21, I will no longer be merely tired but also retired. As I just didn't feel like I wade through enough traffic and corruption, I'm moving to the D.C. area; meaning after nearly four years writing RedEye, and in many more various CL nightlife capacities, we have only one more week together. Consider it an early Christmas gift. ...
I've already had an offer from luvved-up Lunar-fixture Russ Marselek to take over this column for cheap, but only if he can rename it BrownEye. Cheeky -- or is that nasty? -- bastard. But I'm afraid the paper is still mulling over what manner of mini-features can appropriately fill my gaping hole.
To celebrate, I DJed for old times' sake at Bazzaar on Wed., Dec. 6. Reflecting on my Duran Duran-free set, resident DJ Jonathan Edwards commented that I "certainly tossed everybody's musical salads." Considering I was going for "gave the audience that old rusty trombone," I deem that high praise, indeed.
On Fri., Dec. 8, I ran into both decks-hoppin' DJ Klever and Afro-free Second Shift vocalist Jonathan Baker at L5P's Rag-O-Rama appreciating some vintage styles. Speaking of what's old is new again: Crisp cocktails by Eric Simpkins (formerly of New York's Pegu Club) at the very Audrey Hepburn-poised Bar at TROIS and Lara Creasy (formerly of Watershed) plus Liz Kim at Shaun's are celebrating artisanal tradition and seasonal ingredients.
With all this last-minute fun, I was having pangs of doubt about leaving. But those were alleviated when, at a holiday party co-hosted by sassy shutterbug Lisa Jordan, the conversations I had were about how awesome nightlife had been in the era of Nomenclature Museum. Then, taking a friend to Lotus, they played Def Leppard and Real McCoy. And next to where Lenny's né Dottie's used to be is now a sleek fill-up station for food and drink, the Standard. It's the same city, but a totally different scene.
I just hope with RedEye, I've shown that there's no one way to be right, and at least 184 bracing ways to be gloriously wrong. And next week, I'll share a jumble of my favorite moments from more than eight years watching people's desperate ploys to be seen and be scene. Because you can't spell "class" without "ass," as my old drinking pal/Birmingham, Ala., comedian Mike McCall always said between Jew jokes.
RedEye celebrates going out and going off. Send comments to email@example.com, but hand-scrawled hate mail is preferred.