By Michael E. Miller
By Ryan Yousefi
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Sabrina Rodriguez
By Michael E. Miller
By Carlos Suarez De Jesus
By Luther Campbell
By Kyle Munzenrieder
Joline, age 24, a model booker from Miami Beach and one of many Playboy bunnies, was sick of hearing about the storm. "Compared to Katrina, it's an inconvenience, not a travesty," she observed.
Other conversations were less kookily pleasant. At one point The Bitch was nearly bowled over by a blowsy drunk girl in a tight, mud-streaked tank top and a platinum blond wig.
Are you supposed to be Courtney Love?
"No, I'm Paris Hilton, you bitch." Further insults were unintelligible, lacking wit, and not worth reporting.
Having had her fill of salmon and shame, The Bitch sought comfort across the causeway from her favorite DJ, Poplife's Alex Caso at I/O. And Caso did have some good news: Beloved but recently silent shoegazer-embracing Internet radio station Sonic Sound System will reappear early next year. "I'm also working on some podcasts," Caso added enticingly.
Luckily, after getting knocked around pretty good by Wilma, the place was open for business though for how much longer remains an open question. Aramis Lorie the club's co-owner and all-around hip guy about town says he'll move Saturday-night I/O staple Poplife to The District up on 40th Street beginning this week. He anticipates closing I/O soon and reopening the club in a bigger space. "Miami really needs more live venues," Lorie says. "And there's a lot of shows that I would've liked to have done, but I just didn't have the space for it. Getting a larger place will allow me to do that."
Yeah, and getting some limes would have allowed The Bitch to have a decent Campari and soda (that dangerous Hypnotiq phase having passed). But according to I/O barkeep and manager Alex Milian, lack of the essential citrus, along with bottled water, was further evidence of storm-related supply problems. Whatever.
It beats sitting at home as the last candle burns out, says Lester, a 25-year-old lab technician who had fled an 11:00 p.m. curfew in Kendall. "You don't want to be home. You don't want to be caged up. After eleven o'clock, you know you're fucked in the house," he said.
Isn't This What Ritalin Is For?
After extensive examination (spectral analysis, multivariant tone separation, photon emission tomography) of ExpressaVizzazzaVeeBopanisticOmerang, The Bitch has come to the following conclusion: Gazing at this massive "work of art" for even brief periods of time can cause seizures and eye-rolling in canines and, possibly, humans.
New Hampshire artist Roger Goldenberg's energetic painting, a wildly improvisational splaying of shape and color, was recently hung in the Miami Children's Museum. Thanks go to Tom Haas, a chemical company executive and owner of a Lear jet charter enterprise serving New England, who has been on a philanthropic tear since his ten-year-old son Tommy sang the praises of a Goldenberg work a year ago. Tommy stares at the painting every day, Haas says: "Some days he sees one thing, and other days he sees other things."
Goldenberg's canvases are great for introducing children to design and style, Haas says, because of their abstract playfulness.
Haas has recently made it his business to buy and then donate the artist's paintings to children's museums from San Francisco to Cape Cod. He figures he'll keep donating for about a year. "There are only so many children's museums," he says.
Goldenberg says it's just "happenstance" that his works, filled with dancelike, energetic movement and brilliant color, seem to appeal to the future serial killers amid the younger crowd.
"It doesn't seem to them to be unapproachable," he says. "I'm not pandering at all to them. I'm 47 going on 5."
Goldenberg says he chose ExpressaVizzazzaVeeBopanisticOmerang for Miami because the work made him think of South Florida's boldly colored flora and fauna and reflected the vitality of the area's ethnic mix.
At the risk of enraging museum supporters and Russell Crowe alike, The Bitch, shielding her eyes, can only say, Whatever.
Go Canes, Go Away 'Cane Victims
Miami City Manager Joe Arriola's decision to shut down the hurricane relief center in the Orange Bowl this past Saturday during the game between the Canes and the North Carolina Tar Heels upset many nearby residents and enraged local activists.
Thousands lined up for supplies at the stadium since Hurricane Wilma struck more than a week ago. It is the city's largest hurricane relief center.
"They set up a replacement center, but it was on NE 64th Street and Biscayne Boulevard, and there were no buses dedicated to getting people from the Orange Bowl area to the Upper East Side," says Sushma Sheth of the Miami Workers Center, an organization that has been monitoring hurricane relief efforts in Miami's low-income neighborhoods.
For his part, Arriola is proud of the city's relief efforts, although he says next time the city will forego the FEMA-based plan, which dictated there be three large relief distribution centers. "It creates chaos and wastes gas," he says. "Next time we'll have a bunch of smaller distribution centers run by the Neighborhood Enhancement Teams. That way, access will be easier for more people."
As far as his decision to shut down the Orange Bowl for a football game, Arriola says he had no choice. "We had a commitment to the University of Miami," he relates. "And besides, I think people needed some kind of distraction. And we reopened Sunday morning."