Haute Cature

My parents bought Kitty a sweater.







I could barely take these pictures with my cell phone, I was laughing so hard.

Bluer than Blue

I just watched Wong Kar Wai's film "My Blueberry Nights."

It's frickin' gorgeous. And by that I mean that beyond having an extremely good looking cast, the look of the film is painterly and almost distractingly beautiful. There were shots that had these compositions that had the feel of still lifes ( still lives?), scenes shot through windows and doorways framing the action, delicious and drenched in color.



It is a mood piece. You see, you hear, you pick up the vibe, you imagine, you dream. It transmits frequencies - love, lostness, connection, uncertainty, strength, desire, floating, seeking, loss, alienation, buoyancy, the curious intimacy that you can only share with strangers.

Sometimes you sweat the small stuff

I am going through one of those "for want of a nail" periods in my life. It's not that a kingdom, my kingdom, is on the verge of being lost.

The scenario is more that there are things that I want to get done. They seem to be simple things. At least they seem simple until I actually try to accomplish them.

My options breakdown to: A. throw money at the problem, or B. solve a series of very small interdependent problems that lead to other interdependent problems that eventually lead to the ability to get things done.

And the internal dialogue goes like this: "Ok. Deep breath. This is totally doable. If I want to save the kingdom what I really need is to win this battle which requires me to have that rider which means getting this horse which means getting that horseshoe replaced. Yeah, I'd better get online and find a blacksmith to take care of this. Am I bringing my own horseshoes? Maybe I'll bring one just in case. And if I don't end up replacing them all, I really should ask him to check the nails on the rest of them, I wonder if yelp.com has any entries on blacksmiths ..."

I will try to talk about other things after this, I promise

On Wednesday, I went back to Momofuku with CK, SD, and PD. This is the Momofuku Ssam Bar. It was pointed out to me that there is more than one Momofuku in this city. I was a little worried that it would not be as good as I remembered it.

I was ecstatic to be proven wrong. The pork buns - this time I found myself licking my hand to catch the juices running out from the bun. I didn't realize that I was doing it at first. It was an instinct. And when I did notice, that did nothing to stop me. Love has no pride.

SD and PD love food. They eat with real passion. When the first few dishes came to the table SD partook and said positive things. But when the fluke arrived at the table, she was utterly won over and from then on you could tell that she was hooked.

They make a Brussel sprout dish that has changed my mind about Brussel sprouts. I won't eat them anywhere else, but I could eat them by the bowlful there.

The Brisket, my God, the Brisket. There were times during the meal where I couldn't make eye contact with other people. The experience was too personal to share. The Brisket was one of them.

The Spicy Pork Sausage with Rice Cakes were ordered on my account. Crunchy and chewy and flavored. This is not your run of the mill Rice Cake. If the chef will not have me, then I will offer myself up to the one who works the Rice Cake station. *swoon*

As I got full, I started to feel a little bit sad, because it meant that I would have to stop eating.

And as happened the other time, no one wanted dessert. We were so blissed out that sweets seemed so - unnecessary, though I can only imagine how they must be.

SD was beaming for the rest of the night. She would turn to me and say, "I'm happy. I'm so happy right now." I could only nod in agreement.

A little smooth music to take the edge off, Pussycat?

Yesterday, while FM was noodling around on the piano I was reminded of "Minute by Minute" by the Doobie Brothers.

Before I pegged it there, I thought it was "Biggest Part of Me" by Ambrosia.

And now, I've caught the fever. I want to rollerskate on the boardwalk in hot pants and drink pink champagne from those flat glasses.

*flutter*

We Are Family, My Kangaroo Sisters and Me

I am not sure to what degree this article: "Kangaroo Genes Close to Humans" is new newsy news. It's one of those things where, had it gone the other way, we'd all be ooo-ing and ah-ing about the amazing genetic diversity of life. Having it go this way is alright too, although slightly less novel and spectacular. You just don't know until you do the experiment, right?

The quotes are just so good, who could resist running with it ...

"Australia's kangaroos are genetically similar to humans and may have first evolved in China, Australian researchers said Tuesday."

This work was done by the Centre of Excellence for Kangaroo Genomics, in Australia which is now the site of my dream job.

"There are a few differences, we have a few more of this, a few less of that, but they are the same genes and a lot of them are in the same order," centre Director Jenny Graves told reporters in Melbourne.

"We thought they'd be completely scrambled, but they're not. There is great chunks of the human genome which is sitting right there in the kangaroo genome," Graves said

Humans and kangaroos last shared an ancestor at least 150 million years ago, the researchers found, while mice and humans diverged from one another only 70 million years ago.

Baby it's truuuuuee, me and yooooouuu, we are kangaroooooo!

Just makes me want to hop with joy.

what rhymes with oven

I fell asleep last night thinking about rice cakes and woke up thinking about pork buns. *sigh*

At the greatest meal of my life, before the food arrived, FC told us of how bringing baked goods led to proposals of marriage, while wearing sexy and revealing clothing did not.

Curious.

Then again, I suppose one appetite can be gratified in a variety of places, while the other requires large appliances and oven mitts.





Try this for oven rhymes

This website makes me happy

http://www.newyorkontap.com/subways.asp

What you ask for

When I first told PJS that I thought I might want to stay in New York for a while, she chalked it up to Stockholm Syndrome. I laughed about that. But there are days here where I wonder if that is true. My life here is pretty silly, to be sure. And yet it does not give me quite the pleasure that I would expect such a silly life to deliver.

I get restless and dissatisfied, cranky, tired and bummed out, lost, overwhelmed, and lonely, so so lonely. This would be true anywhere, I am sure but while here, I can conveniently blame it on this place. People in response to my belly aching often ask, Why do I stay? What am I waiting for? Questions that I ask myself at least as often.

I thought I was waiting to get successful. I was waiting to prove my worth to myself and the world. I thought I was waiting to come into my own, to find myself, to find my purpose, my calling. I thought I was waiting to crack the code of this city and conquer it. I thought I was waiting to fall in love with someone or some idea or something. Or some such clichee. But actually none of that is true.

I was waiting for two things:

1. To have the greatest meal of my life.

Now, I have to say that I have actually had the greatest meal of my life six times in this city. But tonight was the first time that plates of food inspired in me a love for the universe and a singular passion for the chef. The pork buns at Momofuku are love, plain and simple. Our party of six proposed to him right after the appetizers were served. It will be a small private ceremony. A simple affair, with a few members of our immediate families present.

2. To be in the presence of someone famous who I like and greatly admire.

We were sitting there and WC's friend J pointed to a gentleman at another table and said, "I think that man over there is famous. He looks like the kind of person who does a show on PBS, like Charlie Rose." I carefully turned to look and it was Charlie Rose. (!!!!) Charlie Rose!!!!!

We finished our meal and went out and I tried to steal another look at him but didn't manage it. There were too many people obscuring my view.

Our dinner party was milling around outside. Some of us smoking, all of us chatting and watching the rain, when who should leave the restaurant, but the man himself. J exchanged pleasantries with him. Some girls came up and asked to have their picture taken with him and he agreed. He has a great smile. He was so affable, so warm. The charm he projects in person is magnitudes beyond what you get off the screen, if you can imagine.

I cannot speak to famous people whom I admire. Even quasi-famous local people. I get super shy. I am a blathering idiot. It's terrible. So I don't even try. Everyone laughed at me and teased me for not talking to him. But I couldn't, I just smiled.

The thing about living in New York is that there is always so much going on. And I always have this feeling that I am missing something. I have not seen everything, met the key people, nor accomplished much. "I'm not internationally known" or "known to rock microphone." I have not been to all the cool bars, I have not had the best meals, or worn the best clothes, I have not seen Ellis Island or been on the Staten Island Ferry.

But as he walked off I felt like what I have seen and experienced is enough. I had seen everything I needed to see here. I have had the greatest meal of my life and I have been in spitting distance of a famous person who I respect and admire. And he seemed very much in person as he was on TV. I could leave without regret.

Of course, if tomorrow I run into Chuck Klosterman, Malcolm Gladwell, Peter Gabriel and Travis Morrison and they invite me to join them for beer and popcorn, I am not going to sniff at that. Nor have I packed my bags to leave.

Here's the funny thing. On Wednesday, I was out with History Guy and in the course of conversation with him I said: 1. I was surprised at how rare it was for me to have an incredible meal in New York. 2. I said that the two people in all the world who I wanted to meet were Malcolm Gladwell and Charlie Rose.

Go figure.

Or a Dance to a Constantly Surprising Refrain

Recently while I was out and about I ended up in a conversation with a young man, very young, 23, about life. At some point during the evening he asked me why I wasn't married, why I was single and why I lived alone. Maybe this is a Long Island thing. Off the island I am a curious creature to live as a do...

I didn't have much of a reply. I said nothing had really worked out for me up to this point but there was always the chance that it would in the future.

In conversation with CK it occurred to me that maybe the reason is: I want love to be like "The Very Thought of You" ignoring the fact that it's actually like: "My Romance".

As I sit here now, I realize that I've actually loved in both ways, sometimes simultaneously and it was great. Just great. And then one day it wasn't.

I guess I'll stick with my first answer and say, nothing has really worked out for me up to today but there is always tomorrow.

The Heart Has a Sense of Place

I want to dream of Oleanders in June.

Freedom, Freedom to, freedom from, and Zombies

"We helped them reclaim their nation, and they helped us reclaim ours. They showed us the meaning of democracy ... freedom, not just in vague, abstract terms, but on a very real, individually human level. Freedom isn't just something you have for the sake of having, you have to want something else first and then want the freedom to fight for it."

-Max Brooks, "World War Z"

GRCH is lending me the book "World War Z: an Oral History of the Zombie War." And while I was initially skeptical about it, "Ooooo zombie novel ...." It's really damn good.

I am sorry to hear that a movie based on this book is in the works for either Brad Pitt or Leonardo Di Caprio. If the movie ends up being the Zombie version of "The Longest Day" or more, I will be mollified. Anything less and I will be beyond furious. If Pitt or Di Caprio saves the world from Zombies with the aid or their girlfriend, played by Jessica Alba in the movie I will be spitting mad.

a Hug with a Hoodie

I have been walking around today with the strangest sensation. I feel like someone somewhere loves me. Not someone that I can name. It's kind of a freefloating sensation. It's not the first time I have felt this way since moving to NYC. It's always kind of strange.

I was telling CK about it. It feels so great. And yet, weird. As I was describing the sensation to her, what I came up with is that I feel like I am getting this really great hug.

And then it occurred to me. Maybe it was my sweatshirt. I am wearing this rust colored fleece sweatshirt today that my mom bought me. It's super warm and a little heavy. For the first time since the change of season, I am sitting here feeling not cold.

It must be the sweatshirt. I am wearing the sweatshirt of love. It's a gift from my mother.

People get ready

"This victory alone is not the change we seek -- it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you ... in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people." - President Elect Barack Obama

There is important work to be done. As always.

What indeed ....

"Everybody loves white women except white women. White women are the majority of the country and they've had the right to vote for almost a hundred years. And still they've never elected a white woman president. What are you bitches waitin' for?"

-Chris Rock

LMFAO

"Dignity is more important to the human spirit than wealth." - Jacqueline Novogratz

I am home visiting my parents. I've mentioned before that they grew up during the Korean War and every once in a while one of them will tell me a story from childhood. This time we were sitting at lunch and my dad told me this one:

His family was making a very long journey by foot. It was my dad, his brother and his parents. They had no food and they had no cash. They were far from home and far from friends and family. My dad, a small boy at the time, was so hungry that he couldn't walk any more. He sat down and refused to move. The whole family was so hungry and tired. They were a days walk away from their final destination and wondered whether they would make it. Perhaps this would be it.

A man on a bicycle rode by carrying a bag of rice. As he rode by the bag split open and rice started to leak out on to the road. My grandmother had a needle and thread and offered to sew up the hole. They helped the man scoop up the rice off the ground and put it back in the bag and he was off again.

As they sat there, my uncle noticed that there were still grains of rice on the ground and started to collected them. They collected the rice and he took it to a public fountain and washed it until it was white. My dad says that it was the most delicious meal that he has ever had. My grandmother thought it was the fates lending a help hand where most desperately needed.

I've dated a lot of guys who are poor or broke. There inevitably comes a point, usually during a fight, where they mock me for my soft middle class life of privilege. They tell me that I don't understand poverty. I don't understand the first thing about deprivation. They are right about this. That was not my experience. It was the experience of my dad. My parents and their families has done everything in their power to make sure that it would not be mine. Can you blame them?

It's Blog Action Day today. The theme for this year is Poverty.

I was not going to participate because as my ex's have said, what do I know about poverty? Added to that my energies and attention have not been focused in that direction and I couldn't really think what I would contribute to the day. But Blog Action Day people sent me a very effective reminder email that did more than remind me of the day, it also reminded me of some really amazing ways that people are fighting poverty right now.

Just imagine how the world would be doing if some of that global pool of money went here:

Kiva

MicroPlace

The Grameen Foundation

The Accumen Fund whose founder, Jacqueline Novogratz, gave this TED talk. She says, "Dignity is more important to the human spirit than wealth."

Hell, Charles Schwab Charitable is now getting into the act, using a portion of their Charitable gift accounts to guarantee microfinance loans.

Give someone a goat or a chicken:
Heifer International

If you want to kick it old school:
UNICEF

Oxam

Habitat for Humanity


If you are concerned with Hunger:
Food Not Bombs

The Burrito Project

Feed Just One

Feed My Starving Children

Share Our Strength

City Harvest

If you want to sit on your butt:
Free Rice

TED.com has some really interesting talks by really interesting people about interesting subjects. Among the subjects that have been discussed -


Paul Collier has a very interesting take on how to help the "Bottom Billion" on our planet.

Andrew Mwenda's TED talk about the effect of aid in Africa

Majora Carter, environmental justice activist in South Bronx

Hans Rosling has given
two amazing talks on statistics and the state of the world today.

Perhaps at some point in the very near future we will be done fighting poverty and will move on to illiteracy or discrimination or totalitarianism or rudeness or poor personal hygiene.

From the AP newswire

Chicago's Cook County won't evict in foreclosures

"Dart [Cook County Sheriff] said that from now on, banks will have to present his office with a court affidavit that proves the home's occupant is either the owner or has been properly notified of the foreclosure proceedings.

Illinois law requires that renters be notified that their residence is in foreclosure and they will be evicted in 120 days, but Dart indicated that the law has been routinely ignored.

He talked about tenants who dutifully pay their rent, then leave one morning for work only to have authorities evict them and put their belongings on the curb while they are gone.

By the time they get home, "The meager possessions they have are gone," he said. "This is happening too often."

In many cases, he said, tenants aren't even aware that their homes have fallen into foreclosure."

"...there are more than 1 million U.S. homes in foreclosure — with about a third of that number occupied by someone other than the owner."

I may have to take back whatever smack I was perpetrating on Chicago. I am very impressed with this Sheriff. Thanks, Don Babwin!

Humans are friends. Not food.

The Emotron played a show in Brooklyn on Friday with Mose Giganticus and Belly Club. the show was at a place called Surrealestate in East Williamsburg.

I got there at 8pm but the show was not to start until 10pm. They were still building a stage and speakers for the big event. Time to kill.

Around the corner in the middle of what seems to be a warehouse district, there was a coffee shop/movie rental joint and tiny corner granola grocery.

Time to kill.

I chatted with CK. Time to kill.
I got some california roll at the grocery and inspected their granola organic wares. Time to kill.
I looked at all the titles at the coffee shop. Time to kill.
I got some hot chocolate. Time to kill.
I read a book in the stairwell. Time to kill.
I took a walk around the block in the dark.
I read on the street. Time to kill.
I went back and had some tea.

Time to kill.
Ah yes.

At last, they arrived in their short bus fueled with veggie oil, full of gear, a mattress, six sleeping bags, band boys, and god knows what else.

The show was like nothing I have seen at a ticketmaster venue these days. The Emotron bringing his technicolor electro-shock-strip-punk gospel, Belly Club a rap duo with a fella at the laptop and a lady rapper channeling the Beastie Boys through a veggie fueled, pro-bike, granola feminista point of view, and Mose Giganticus rocking the keytar heavy and hard. Exactly, what's been missing from my life.

I sat on the couch after and caught up with KK. The life of a starving artist is hard knock indeed. Full of hunger and hustle, shady characters. Gawd. CK reminds me that these are his choices. And to be fair, he looks good.

It was good to see him. I am glad that he is still alive and shiny, whole souled. Were I a praying women I would ask that the road be merciful enough to keep him that way. As it is, I know that he can do this for himself.

Two people had their bags stolen at the show that nights, a purse and a fanny pack. It was my first exposure to crime in New York.

One of them was CF, roller derby queen and also of Sonic Death Rabbit, whose phone is gone but fortunately her gameboy was left behind. The gameboy is her instrument of choice for music. She had tales of being trapped in New York, shady promoters in LA, doormen who run off with the money, and the cutest little bike I've seen.

I also met MG. He asked me about my life and what I want for my life. What my ideal and happiest version of my life would be. I have been asked this often and asked this of myself as well. But so far have no satisfactory answer. He asked me what I have done with my life so far. I told him, only to have him ask me if I was lying. Apparently, the true story of my life is improbable. I asked him to tell me a tall tale version of his life which he did with great ease after which I had to agree with him that my life up to now has indeed taken some curious turns.

From that point on he would request lies of me only to find that I am terrible at it. Despite the interrogations and accusations of the brilliant and the powerful, I am not as skilled at it as I once was. These things take practice.

I slept on the floor with them. Cuz, I am not very smart. Ach. Sleeping bag on a cold concrete floor, I have not missed you. My hip bones have certainly not missed you. And you probably contributed to the plague that has since settled on my lungs. I don't really have the constitution of one who tours hardcore like that.

I got up eventually and met the girls for boozy brunch the next day. From one world to another and then back to my current reality, whatever/wherever that happens to be.

If you fall, say you'll fall for me, when autumn leaves are falling from the trees.

a. I saw Built to Spill. I only recently discovered them through various young men that I have been meeting. They were a bunch of regular looking guys who played wistful melodic music and could jam on and on forever. They only played one song that I actually knew but it was a good one and really, I didn't care. It was like sunshine radiating from the stage. It felt so good to be there and bask in the light. I felt pieces of myself temporarily fall into place. TBW, who went to the show with me, apparently didn't feel the same and left before me without saying good bye, not even a tap on the shoulder.

That was the last time I saw TBW, who has moved to SF and back into a life of research. He was my bitch and moan about work buddy. Probably best for the morale of both of us to be separated. I am hopeful that the move back to the bench and a change of scene will bring him greater happiness.

b. I found my NYC bar. The first bar that felt like home to me in the City. It was lost but now it's found. On off nights when I have nothing to do, that is where I intend to be.

c. After a summer together, the LYM asked to take a break. I think that I kinda know what that means but not really. It may mean that he needs some time to himself and then we will resume our particular acquaintance. It may mean that he is trying to also leave me without exactly saying good bye. Good bye is hard. I am not so good at it. I am not sure that anyone is, besides Phoebe Buffay-Hannigan (of Friends). We will see.

My abandonment issues are coming into play here. He asked for this right as I was leaving for a work trip. He asked for this six days before my 38th birthday. His timing is impeccable. Makes me think of that blues song: "Nobody love me, but my mother. And she might be jivin' too." Very young men are bad news. BAD NEWS!


d. I was in Chicago for work and got to hang with EH, see my parents, and many a blast from my scientific past. I felt very sheepish that I have not done a post-doc. It was good to see everyone, though.


e. I tried to OD on cable TV, leading to much sleep deprivation. The Sheryl Crow cover of "Here Comes the Sun" in "The Bee Movie" is gorgeous and the whole premise of "Open Water 2" is hilarious, and "Almost Famous" is even better than I remember it.

I used to only like the movie for the "Tiny Dancer" scene but now, there is so much more to love. Perhaps in part due to my tour nostalgia.

Quotes:

"The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you're uncool."

"Now go do your best. 'Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.' Goethe said that. It's not too late for you to become a person of substance..."

I want to become a person of substance. I think that I kinda know what that means too, but not really.

And when Penny Lane turned to William Miller and twinkled her fingers saying "You are home." I felt so homesick. I cannot tell you.


f. People in the conference industry in downtown Chicago are damn good at their jobs. Damn good. They are may not be the nicest and you may be asked to pay for each and every calorie that they expend on your behalf. But they reach a level of excellence in execution that is a real delight. Totally worth the expenditure.

g. Which brings me to what I've been obsessing over off and on, the economy. What is selling short? Why would anyone do such a thing? And why is it a good thing? Who is too big to fail? Why has the price of oil been so high? What is a financial derivative? Why did Lehman Brothers tank? Why would AIG's financial status be of national concern? What is commercial paper? Is anyone making money right now?

I stumbled on this audio piece on "This American Life" titled: "The Giant Pool of Money." Which basically describes the story of subprime loans and the housing bubble. *Ach* Makes me mad and heartsick.


h. It seems that for many of the single women in the circle of my acquaintance that love is going awry. Lotta guys out there who apparently need a break. Poor babies. Is it the market?

the Summer of Bugs

I turned 38 last week. I have been trying to figure where the time has gone. That would be a pretty long post. So we could start with, where the heck did my summer go?


I met the LYM.
I visited Champing-Banana.
I went to Paris for work.
I went to PS1 over the summer.
I saw Michael Pollan give a talk.
I saw Sonic Youth for free.
I saw Yo La Tengo for free.
I saw "Powasquatsi" accompanied by the Philip Glass.
I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.
I took Summer Fridays. They were delicious.
I saw "Enter the Dragon" with Karsh Kale's soundtrack.
I got bit to hell by bugs. You have no idea. They were out to get me. I think I spent the better part of my economic stimulus check dealing with the itchiest bites I've ever had.
I went to two weddings back to back.
One in Brooklyn and one in Toronto. I was a minority at both.
I went to Toronto. My first visit to Canada since reaching the age of reason.
I worked a lot and very late.
I went to Boston for work.
I slept on an air mattress all summer.
I visited MomVee and her family for a day at the Shore.
I saw the Cloisters.

And then it got colder.

In years passed, I loved the Fall. Years and year of schooling cause me to usually associate it with a fresh start, new beginnings, new school supplies and lots of stuff to learn.

This year not so much. This year I wanted the Summer to keep on keeping on. Except for the bugs. I am glad that they are gone.