This weekend, I attended The New Yorker Festival in New York City. There were many wonderful events and one could not possibly see them all. Especially since they were all over town at different venues and overlapping times. I can't speak about the authors/artists/musicians that I didn't see, but if they had anywhere near the entertainment value as the ones I did, then I can say with assurance that the Festival was a raging success.

My Events:
Friday night – Stephen King & Michael Chabon
Saturday night – Tracy Chapman
Sunday afternoon – Wallace & Gromit – The Curse of the Were Rabbit

As stated on The New Yorker Festival's Web site, the sixth annual festival planned to be "a celebratory weekend of public discourse on arts and ideas." How exciting! I really don't get enough culture in life. And this was the perfect example of one of those things that I should be doing more of. I've been excited for it ever since mid-August when a co-worker first presented it to me.

Friday night, my friend and I fought the horrible rush hour traffic to rush into Manhattan. In retrospect, we probably should have taken a train but hindsight (as they say) is 20/20. We arrived at the Directors Guild of America Theater about 15 minutes before the show. Now that it was finally here, I was beside myself with jubilance.

Me - Hey, how's it goin'?
Jubilance - Holy cow, man! I mean Wow! Check it out! Look where you are! Yah! Yah! Yah!
Me - Settle down, dude. Keep cool. Act professional.
Jubilance - Oh, you're no fun. I'm going to run around in circles for a little bit.
Me - Um, I'll see you in there.
Jubilance - Ohhhh yeahhhh dude! ... I'm dizzy.

Friday night was the pinnacle of the weekend. It was a little strange being that it was the first event--pinnacles usually come later in the story--but it worked out well. It was what it was. It was Stephen King and Michael Chabon.

I've been a big fan of Mr. King and Mr. Chabon for a long time. I was first introduced to Chabon in college. I was in an Independent Study class (which basically means you get to work on a project of some sort one on one with a professor). I was writing a book (or trying to anyway) and my professor gave me The Mysteries of Pittsburgh. It was Chabon’s first book, one he wrote while attending the University of California, and pursuing his own M.F.A. (Master of Fine Arts). My professor told me that my writing style was somewhat similar to Chabon’s and that I could learn a lot from him. While I don’t imagine myself to be anywhere near Chabon's talent, he did teach me a thing or two.

Friday night was literature. Saturday night was music. I don't know how many of our readers know who Tracy Chapman is. Probably not many. If that is the case, I highly recommend you check her out. She is a prolific singer/musician/songwriter who's been on the scene since the early '80s. Often, her lyrics tell a story and she pours everything into the writing of them. I'm not exactly a huge fan, but seeing her perform Saturday night brought me closer.

Friday night was literature. Saturday night was music. Sunday afternoon was film. How does one begin to describe the wacky and loveable Wallace and Gromit? Well, for starters, they are made out of clay.

OK. So I may have been a little long winded in these entries but it is only because I enjoyed myself so much this weekend! Each event was entertaining in its own way and I relished every minute.

Jubilance - I'm exhausted.
Me - Me too.
Jubilance - But that was awesome.
Me - Yeah. Yeah it was.

Check out www.newyorker.com to learn more about the magazine that put together this wonderful celebration of the arts.