Friday, July 26, 2013
Sometimes
When I am very tired and working late, I get the passing sensation that someone is hugging me when alone at my desk.
It's a great comfort.
But I hope it doesn't indicate that I am losing my mind.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Lyric for the day
"Ransom my heart, but baby don't look back. Cause we got nobody else "
- Pat Benatar, Shadows of the Night
Friday, July 05, 2013
The day after the party
Sometimes it feels like loving someone in this City will only result in creating a situation in which they feel free to not only reject you but to express utter contempt for you.
More than some of the time, much of the time, most of the time.
People in this City are not looking for love. They are too in love with themselves to care about anyone else.
It would follow from this that living and dating here means that I am looking for love in the wrong places.
Or falling in love with the wrong kind of person over and over again.
But, I would need to admit to myself and everyone else that I am looking for love in the first place.
More than some of the time, much of the time, most of the time.
People in this City are not looking for love. They are too in love with themselves to care about anyone else.
It would follow from this that living and dating here means that I am looking for love in the wrong places.
Or falling in love with the wrong kind of person over and over again.
But, I would need to admit to myself and everyone else that I am looking for love in the first place.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Food from heated rollers
It sounds much better than it is in practice.
But the woman behind the counter was all for it. On a cold, windy night, curling up on the couch and watching movies while scarfing down taquitos that have been warmed all day for you by 7 / 11 is just another way to describe living the dream
I have had a fixation on corn in recent months. Some nights I have corn chips for dinner. Or popcorn. Corn, I adore you, but you are so filling. I get bloaty and then a few mintues later, I feel like I have swallowed a boulder.
I have also had a fixation on celery. Celery is delicious. For a while I was eating stalks and stalks of it. I might have to pick up a bunch tomorrow.
Besides that, I have not really been thinking of food. I just eat poorly. But how can you resist food on heated rollers served with sour cream and spicy guacamole?
It was that or deep fried breaded cubes of macaroni and cheese.
But the woman behind the counter was all for it. On a cold, windy night, curling up on the couch and watching movies while scarfing down taquitos that have been warmed all day for you by 7 / 11 is just another way to describe living the dream
I have had a fixation on corn in recent months. Some nights I have corn chips for dinner. Or popcorn. Corn, I adore you, but you are so filling. I get bloaty and then a few mintues later, I feel like I have swallowed a boulder.
I have also had a fixation on celery. Celery is delicious. For a while I was eating stalks and stalks of it. I might have to pick up a bunch tomorrow.
Besides that, I have not really been thinking of food. I just eat poorly. But how can you resist food on heated rollers served with sour cream and spicy guacamole?
It was that or deep fried breaded cubes of macaroni and cheese.
Saturday, May 25, 2013
Listage
1. People have been asking me what my type is. I used to think that it was boys on bicycles, physics majors, tall blonde guys, bass players, short muscular stocky dudes. Today, I think it might be Irish-Jewish guys. So if you know any between the ages of 28 and 48, send them my way.
2. Day drinking is so painful. How ever did I manage to survive it all this time? And how did day drinking go from being a secret shame to the hot social thing to do.
3. I saw the Cirque du Soleil show, Totem. My very first Cirque du Soleil show ever. WOW. They had a human disco ball. It is inspiring to see what a human can accomplish. Magical and impossible things. You have to see it so that you can believe it.
4. I am encountering menfolk of late who refuse to use soap, shampoo or deodorant. They think that personal hygiene products are a scam. They trust in the natural oils that their bodies produce. They think that said personal hygiene products smell weird and artificial like plastic. I wish they would reconsider so that I could stop holding a perfumed handkerchief to my face.
5. People keep asking me if I am still making music. I am not. I'm not exactly sure why. But I am completely blocked. I've been trying to articulate why to myself and to other people and can't come up with anything. I don't know why I have not. Perhaps because I am unhappy in love. But that does not make sense. Firstly, I am not in love. Secondly, it used to be that when I was unhappy in love, it was excellent motivation for making music. Not avoiding it.
6. I went to a reading of novelizations. If you don't know, a novelization is a book that is created based on a movie that was not based on a book. I have not read a novelization in a very long time. But I remember reading a handful of them as a kid. Fame, Pretty in Pink, and my absolute favorite, Desperately Seeking Susan. I actually count the novelization of Desperately Seeking Susan (by Susan Dworkin) to be at least as central to my formative years as Pride and Prejudice, the TV show Fame, and the movies: Singin' in the Rain and Meet Me in St. Louis.
The readings were done in a highly dramatic and hilariously mocking style. The organizers described the audience for such books to be for people who were too poor to be able to buy a VCR, who didn't have cable TV. They forgot one extremely important demographic. Teenagers who were too young to get in to see rated R movies.
7. Wearing an corduroy A line dress in chilly, windy weather without tights will give you a sense of what it would be like to walk around half naked, because you are, literally, walking around not wearing pants.
2. Day drinking is so painful. How ever did I manage to survive it all this time? And how did day drinking go from being a secret shame to the hot social thing to do.
3. I saw the Cirque du Soleil show, Totem. My very first Cirque du Soleil show ever. WOW. They had a human disco ball. It is inspiring to see what a human can accomplish. Magical and impossible things. You have to see it so that you can believe it.
4. I am encountering menfolk of late who refuse to use soap, shampoo or deodorant. They think that personal hygiene products are a scam. They trust in the natural oils that their bodies produce. They think that said personal hygiene products smell weird and artificial like plastic. I wish they would reconsider so that I could stop holding a perfumed handkerchief to my face.
5. People keep asking me if I am still making music. I am not. I'm not exactly sure why. But I am completely blocked. I've been trying to articulate why to myself and to other people and can't come up with anything. I don't know why I have not. Perhaps because I am unhappy in love. But that does not make sense. Firstly, I am not in love. Secondly, it used to be that when I was unhappy in love, it was excellent motivation for making music. Not avoiding it.
6. I went to a reading of novelizations. If you don't know, a novelization is a book that is created based on a movie that was not based on a book. I have not read a novelization in a very long time. But I remember reading a handful of them as a kid. Fame, Pretty in Pink, and my absolute favorite, Desperately Seeking Susan. I actually count the novelization of Desperately Seeking Susan (by Susan Dworkin) to be at least as central to my formative years as Pride and Prejudice, the TV show Fame, and the movies: Singin' in the Rain and Meet Me in St. Louis.
The readings were done in a highly dramatic and hilariously mocking style. The organizers described the audience for such books to be for people who were too poor to be able to buy a VCR, who didn't have cable TV. They forgot one extremely important demographic. Teenagers who were too young to get in to see rated R movies.
7. Wearing an corduroy A line dress in chilly, windy weather without tights will give you a sense of what it would be like to walk around half naked, because you are, literally, walking around not wearing pants.
Catching up with old friends
“In my twenties, I pretended I wanted a long-term relationship but just kept picking wolfmen by mistake. In my thirties I thought my marriage phobia was something chronic I needed to get cured of, like back pain or herpes, but now that I‘m almost fifty I suspect freedom is a secret pleasure girls born in the sixties won’t fess up to.”I was introduced to Pam Houston by a friend named Pam many years ago. Having recently decided that I need to spend more time reading books and ran into a new novel by Ms. Houston.
- Pam Houston, Contents May Have Shifted
I had forgotten what it's like to commune with a poetic soul and to observe and describe the details of your life as a thing of beauty. What the hell have I been doing with my life that would allow this to happen?
Added to that, it made me laugh out loud on my morning commute. Which hasn't happened in a long time.
It was like swapping relationship war stories with a long lost friend who, thankfully, has not changed in the ways that matter and has survived the years whole-souled.
Listorama
1. There is a street in Brooklyn that crosses Atlantic Avenue called "Hendrix Street" which is pretty badass. It is not full of butterflies and zebras or castles made of sand or purple hazes, at least not yet. Perhaps someday, someday soon.
2. When flying from the States through Heathrow airport to another destination or through Heathrow back to the States, be sure to arrange for a 2-3 hour layover. I had to take a bus or a tram to switch terminals, run/speed walk long corridors, go through a security check, have someone inspect my passport, my boarding pass or get a boarding pass issued. I made it. But I was winded, sweaty and more than a little anxious. I did not get to get snacks or a bottle or water or go through any of my usual travel rituals.
3. Is it just me or does the movie Wreck It Ralph seem like something cooked up by a bunch of 40-something stoners? That being said, it was extremely enjoyable.
3. I finally saw Les Mis. It's possible that Russel Crowe and the person who cast him should both be horse whipped. Wolverine's performance was uneven but very passable. The music is just so good, it makes up for a lot. Amanda Seyfried sang really high. Whoof. Cosette is a tough role, in that her role is to be the object of love and devotion. She doesn't have an awesome song of her own once she is grown up and she is never allowed to express much in the way of meaningful emotion or personality once she is grown up.
Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter did a fine job.
Anne Hathaway TORE IT UP. Wow. The shots from the trailer for the movie were amazing but the extended section that is in the movie is intense. I can't believe that she could sing like that while crying. I actually hope that the actual sound on the film set was not what was used in the soundtrack. Because if not, it makes me ill to think of how much vocal control she had while singing. Makes the whole movie worth it.
My friends have massive crushes on Eddie Redmayne. But I've got it for Aaron Tveit who looks mighty fine with longer hair.
It kinda bothered me that everyone had a British accent. If they can't have French accents, the very least they could do is come up with something not British to say.
As I watched Russell and Wolverine wail at each other, I kind thought, I would really like to see an all African American cast perform Les Mis. I think because I would love to watch an all black cast sing "Red and Black" and "Do You Hear the People Sing."
2. When flying from the States through Heathrow airport to another destination or through Heathrow back to the States, be sure to arrange for a 2-3 hour layover. I had to take a bus or a tram to switch terminals, run/speed walk long corridors, go through a security check, have someone inspect my passport, my boarding pass or get a boarding pass issued. I made it. But I was winded, sweaty and more than a little anxious. I did not get to get snacks or a bottle or water or go through any of my usual travel rituals.
3. Is it just me or does the movie Wreck It Ralph seem like something cooked up by a bunch of 40-something stoners? That being said, it was extremely enjoyable.
3. I finally saw Les Mis. It's possible that Russel Crowe and the person who cast him should both be horse whipped. Wolverine's performance was uneven but very passable. The music is just so good, it makes up for a lot. Amanda Seyfried sang really high. Whoof. Cosette is a tough role, in that her role is to be the object of love and devotion. She doesn't have an awesome song of her own once she is grown up and she is never allowed to express much in the way of meaningful emotion or personality once she is grown up.
Sacha Baron Cohen and Helena Bonham Carter did a fine job.
Anne Hathaway TORE IT UP. Wow. The shots from the trailer for the movie were amazing but the extended section that is in the movie is intense. I can't believe that she could sing like that while crying. I actually hope that the actual sound on the film set was not what was used in the soundtrack. Because if not, it makes me ill to think of how much vocal control she had while singing. Makes the whole movie worth it.
My friends have massive crushes on Eddie Redmayne. But I've got it for Aaron Tveit who looks mighty fine with longer hair.
It kinda bothered me that everyone had a British accent. If they can't have French accents, the very least they could do is come up with something not British to say.
As I watched Russell and Wolverine wail at each other, I kind thought, I would really like to see an all African American cast perform Les Mis. I think because I would love to watch an all black cast sing "Red and Black" and "Do You Hear the People Sing."
Thursday, May 02, 2013
Both human but not the same sort of animal
The quote was "I was already drunk before I met you."
He may have assumed that this was said by me as a prelude to sleeping with someone new. He replied with his own quote: "Most people start new sexual relationships while they're completely drunk. But you wouldn't shop for a toaster that way."
If that was his assumption, he was mistaken. It was a comment made by a very charming new acquaintance met at a very enjoyable dinner outing.
My reply was that I would probably have bought a much prettier and nicer toaster had I bought my toaster while drunk.
I did not say, "If you are suggesting that something lurid happened, enough with your stupid, insulting assumptions and insinuations, you judgmental ill-informed prick."
When I finally build that time machine, I will be ever so busy.
Besides which, were it not for drunken sex, some of us would have no sex at all. I suspect that human race would have gone extinct eons ago.
He may have assumed that this was said by me as a prelude to sleeping with someone new. He replied with his own quote: "Most people start new sexual relationships while they're completely drunk. But you wouldn't shop for a toaster that way."
If that was his assumption, he was mistaken. It was a comment made by a very charming new acquaintance met at a very enjoyable dinner outing.
My reply was that I would probably have bought a much prettier and nicer toaster had I bought my toaster while drunk.
I did not say, "If you are suggesting that something lurid happened, enough with your stupid, insulting assumptions and insinuations, you judgmental ill-informed prick."
When I finally build that time machine, I will be ever so busy.
Besides which, were it not for drunken sex, some of us would have no sex at all. I suspect that human race would have gone extinct eons ago.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Rarely also potatoes
There are things and behaviors in the world that should have a name beyond their description. They linger blurring and elusive under the layers of your mind until someone gives it a name. They tell you about it as a recurring thing that they too have encountered and it comes into sharp focus.
There is a thing called the Irish Good-bye. An Irish good-bye is where you get up from a social situation and walk out without telling anyone where you are going.
Good-bye can be a long and involved process. Good-bye can be a painful process. Or a lovely one. Certain things won't get expressed until you are leaving. They don't occur to a person to say or the timing just isn't right until then. Parting can be in its way inspirational and motivational.
But sometimes you just want to leave. You need to and without ceremony. I have had a few such occasions recently and now I know what to call them.
The Irish Good-bye. It does not involve leprechauns, whiskey or potatoes ... well ... maybe sometimes leprechauns and whiskey but rarely also potatoes.
There is a thing called the Irish Good-bye. An Irish good-bye is where you get up from a social situation and walk out without telling anyone where you are going.
Good-bye can be a long and involved process. Good-bye can be a painful process. Or a lovely one. Certain things won't get expressed until you are leaving. They don't occur to a person to say or the timing just isn't right until then. Parting can be in its way inspirational and motivational.
But sometimes you just want to leave. You need to and without ceremony. I have had a few such occasions recently and now I know what to call them.
The Irish Good-bye. It does not involve leprechauns, whiskey or potatoes ... well ... maybe sometimes leprechauns and whiskey but rarely also potatoes.
Wednesday, February 06, 2013
Days gone by
There were nights when we were lying in bed and I was so tired but also so eager to talk to you. I would fall asleep in mid sentence and then wake myself trying unsuccessfully to figure out where I dropped off and what I had been wanting to say.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Ping Me
AZD asked on the Facebook what it means to "ping" someone. She said that many people over the age of 35 seemed to be asking her to do so, of late. To which I replied that her old friends were nerds and posted the link to a wikipedia article without any further explanation. It was an overly curt response making me come off as an insulting jackass.
This does not begin to unpack the feeling, the flavor, or the intention of the request when I make it.
Sometimes people get mad at me for not knowing something because they sent it to me by text or email or chat. Sometimes I get mad at people for the same reason. But the thing is. We cannot assume that everyone on the planet lives their life waiting to hear from us. Sometimes they are. Especially now that so many of us carry so many networked devices with us. But carrying it doesn't mean that the other person is or should be glued to it. They might be eating a strawberry or making love or watching a movie. They might be taking a much needed nap or working or savoring a moment of silence. They might be talking to other people, face to face. They might be basking in sunlight.
Some were embarassed. Some thought I was rude. One person disagreed with me, saying that pinging is the same as IM'ing. That it's a term from the dialup days and that traders use it too.
Rather than explain myself further there, I started to unpacking the whole concept.
First, it's not a terrible thing to be old and a nerd. If you are enough of a nerd to remember the "ping" utility by firsthand experience, you have come by your internet access by authentic and legitimate means. Massive cool points to you.
Second, it's possible that for a lot of people pinging is IM'ing. For this kind of person to ping someone is just to speak to them by text over IM or other device. Communication received not through speech.
This does not begin to unpack the feeling, the flavor, or the intention of the request when I make it.
Obvious Disclaimer: this is not the exact truth, only my take on it.
Essay: What Ping Means To Me
Back in the day, if you wanted to send something from one machine (computer) to another, you needed confirm that there was a live connection and that the other machine was on, functioning and able to receive what you wanted to send. It would be a shame, a waste to send it all only to have it be lost because you did not check first. Perhaps a tragedy.
Ping is a very small program written to send the smallest message from one machine to another. It asks, "Hey, are you there?", waits for a given amount of time for an answer, and then let's you know. With a positive response, you have a level of confidence that your next message will get through and be safely received.
Ping acknowledges that in communication the attention and receptivity of the receiver is essential. That listening matters and is an active part of the equation. That responding matters. That this shared agreement matters. That communication requires an active channel in both directions.
It is pragmatic. It is courteous.
It is pragmatic. It is courteous.
Sometimes people get mad at me for not knowing something because they sent it to me by text or email or chat. Sometimes I get mad at people for the same reason. But the thing is. We cannot assume that everyone on the planet lives their life waiting to hear from us. Sometimes they are. Especially now that so many of us carry so many networked devices with us. But carrying it doesn't mean that the other person is or should be glued to it. They might be eating a strawberry or making love or watching a movie. They might be taking a much needed nap or working or savoring a moment of silence. They might be talking to other people, face to face. They might be basking in sunlight.
Ping them. Make sure that they are there and can pay attention. Make sure that they are in a state where they are receptive to communication and can respond. Establish that agreement and then proceed.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Note to Self
I forget that people who tell you their problems are rarely interested in solutions.
And there are lots of people who get more pleasure from shooting down your ideas and making you out to be an idiot for daring to try to understand and help. Best to stay home with a book.
And there are lots of people who get more pleasure from shooting down your ideas and making you out to be an idiot for daring to try to understand and help. Best to stay home with a book.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Dietary needs
I have eaten corn tortilla chips for dinner two nights in a row. The second night with industrial nacho cheese. This cannot be good.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
An oversimplification for all of us lonely people.
There is nothing wrong with wanting to be loved. Nothing. It's perfectly natural. Everyone wants to be loved.
But it's not simple.
The problem is that you can't just whip up a plan of action for how you are going to get that to happen. It often seems that the more effort you put forward in trying to get specific people to love you, the weirder things get.
Perhaps the best approach is to focus on loving the people in your life and who you meet. Perhaps the best approach is to not get overly fixated on figuring out how to be loved by a particular person.
Even then, that is not the whole story.
You might need to recognize not just that you want to be loved but also that you are, in fact, lovable and that it is possible for others to love you. It's possible for you to have this thing that you want.
Easier said than done. Consider it a challenge.
You might need to recognize when someone is not being loving to you. In your desire to be loved you will be vulnerable and might encounter people who will not be careful and respectful. You have options. You could draw their attention to this and ask them to stop or you could leave. Recognize that staying in such a situation might cause you injury and scarring. This will make it that much harder for you to love and receive the love of others.
Part of the challenge is recognizing that you perceive the love of others in a specific way, perhaps unique to you and won't always recognize love if it is not expressed to you on your terms. Someone might be expressing love to you now.
Even if you do recognize that love is being expressed, if it's not in a way that fills that space in you, it might not be enough. You might have to translate it for yourself. Or you might have to ask for what you need and recognizing that they might not be willing or able to give it to you. Are you okay with accepting love as they express it or do you need for it to be expressed your way?
There is no right or wrong in this. It might even be context dependent. It's just useful to understand.
Love, we all want it and we all do it, surely at some point we can get what we want from the person we give it to.
Or you could get a dog. By "you", I mean me and you and him and her and all of us.
Then again, what do I know?
But it's not simple.
The problem is that you can't just whip up a plan of action for how you are going to get that to happen. It often seems that the more effort you put forward in trying to get specific people to love you, the weirder things get.
Perhaps the best approach is to focus on loving the people in your life and who you meet. Perhaps the best approach is to not get overly fixated on figuring out how to be loved by a particular person.
Even then, that is not the whole story.
You might need to recognize not just that you want to be loved but also that you are, in fact, lovable and that it is possible for others to love you. It's possible for you to have this thing that you want.
Easier said than done. Consider it a challenge.
You might need to recognize when someone is not being loving to you. In your desire to be loved you will be vulnerable and might encounter people who will not be careful and respectful. You have options. You could draw their attention to this and ask them to stop or you could leave. Recognize that staying in such a situation might cause you injury and scarring. This will make it that much harder for you to love and receive the love of others.
Part of the challenge is recognizing that you perceive the love of others in a specific way, perhaps unique to you and won't always recognize love if it is not expressed to you on your terms. Someone might be expressing love to you now.
Even if you do recognize that love is being expressed, if it's not in a way that fills that space in you, it might not be enough. You might have to translate it for yourself. Or you might have to ask for what you need and recognizing that they might not be willing or able to give it to you. Are you okay with accepting love as they express it or do you need for it to be expressed your way?
There is no right or wrong in this. It might even be context dependent. It's just useful to understand.
Love, we all want it and we all do it, surely at some point we can get what we want from the person we give it to.
Or you could get a dog. By "you", I mean me and you and him and her and all of us.
Then again, what do I know?
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Square 1 - NYer Quote
"You would think that by then I would have developed some confidence in writing a new story, but I hadn't, and never would. To lack confidence at the outset seems rational to me. It doesn't matter that something you've done before worked out well. Your last piece is never going to write your next one for you. Square 1 does not become Square 2, just Square 1 squared and cubed."
John McPhee, The New Yorker, January 14, 2013
The Writing Life
Structure
Beyond the picnic-table crisis
Friday, January 18, 2013
Danish TV - NYerQuotes
Excessively charming quotes from a New Yorker article on Danish TV, taken out of context to be savored:
The second thing that revolutionized Danish television was a trip to America. In the mid-nineties, DR [Denmark's public-service broadcaster] sent several of its top executives and producers to Los Angeles,where they visited the sets of "N.Y.P.D. Blue," "L.A. Law," and "24." They returned to Denmark with new concepts: writers' rooms, showrunners, multi-episode series ... Gjervig Gram [writer for "Borgen"] explained, "We said, 'We're going to do it the American way,' but it took some year to find the Danish way to do it the American way."
Lauren Collins, The New Yorker, January 7, 2013
LETTER FROM COPENHAGEN
Danish Postmodern
Why Scandinavian TV has so many fans
"... I think we sometimes have to look in the mirror and think, We're not always cozy, we're not always Hans Christian Andersen," [Soren] Sveistrup [writer for "The Killing"] said. "Lego, Tivoli - that's our P.R., that's how we lure you to come here, but we're just as corrupt and power-sick as everyone else."
Lauren Collins, The New Yorker, January 7, 2013
LETTER FROM COPENHAGEN
Danish Postmodern
Why Scandinavian TV has so many fans
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
On the benefits of being married to a youthful looking woman
People ask me if your Mom is my daughter. I tell them, 'No, she's my third wife.'
- My Dad
Lincoln in the House
Dear Republican Party,
I saw the movie "Lincoln" over the holiday. Once upon a time you guys were AWESOME.
What the hell happened?
Sincerely,
Ergo
What the hell happened?
Sincerely,
Ergo
Paying for content
My parents bought me a gift subscription to the New Yorker. The whole paying for the written word - it's unheard of.
I find that despite my best efforts and intentions, I cannot keep up with this subscription. No matter how diligently I plow through an issue, another one crops up waaaay before I am done with the one that I have been slogging around.
There are stacks of them everywhere. I tell myself that it's okay to throw them away, but it's not. Trees have died. My parents spent part of their hard earned retirement to give me access to the kind of writing that they feel their daughter, the aspiring New Yorker, should have access to.
I tell myself that it's okay to start skimming them. Skipping the articles that don't grab my interest. This is not working either. Because there are a lot of things in this world that I don't know a thing about. More often than not, I run across something that does grab my interest there. Often in a piece that I would not ordinarily force myself to read. At one point I was reading a book review which I found very difficult. When I complained to my mother about this she said, "Those are the ones that you have to finish. They do the most for you." Lo and behold she was right.
With the New Year, I am trying to read current and past issues of the magazine. I was telling SO about this and he made a comment about how the New Yorker is very dense. I hadn't thought about this, but it's true. I recently bought an issue of Mental Floss and read it really, really quickly. Back in the day, I never had a problem zipping through an issue of Entertainment Weekly. The New Yorker is another animal entirely.
It could be worse. Many, many years ago my parents got me a subscription to the New York Review of Books. The NYRB can be pretty damn amazing but I am grateful to have been spared that agony this year.
It's a word eating race and I am really not holding up my end. But I will press on.
I find that despite my best efforts and intentions, I cannot keep up with this subscription. No matter how diligently I plow through an issue, another one crops up waaaay before I am done with the one that I have been slogging around.
There are stacks of them everywhere. I tell myself that it's okay to throw them away, but it's not. Trees have died. My parents spent part of their hard earned retirement to give me access to the kind of writing that they feel their daughter, the aspiring New Yorker, should have access to.
I tell myself that it's okay to start skimming them. Skipping the articles that don't grab my interest. This is not working either. Because there are a lot of things in this world that I don't know a thing about. More often than not, I run across something that does grab my interest there. Often in a piece that I would not ordinarily force myself to read. At one point I was reading a book review which I found very difficult. When I complained to my mother about this she said, "Those are the ones that you have to finish. They do the most for you." Lo and behold she was right.
With the New Year, I am trying to read current and past issues of the magazine. I was telling SO about this and he made a comment about how the New Yorker is very dense. I hadn't thought about this, but it's true. I recently bought an issue of Mental Floss and read it really, really quickly. Back in the day, I never had a problem zipping through an issue of Entertainment Weekly. The New Yorker is another animal entirely.
It could be worse. Many, many years ago my parents got me a subscription to the New York Review of Books. The NYRB can be pretty damn amazing but I am grateful to have been spared that agony this year.
It's a word eating race and I am really not holding up my end. But I will press on.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Shilla on a Saturday
Step out of the F train at the 34th street stop and head to the exit at 32nd to the North East. When you get out and cross the street you will find yourself in Korea Town (K-Town). It's one block of 32nd street, between Broadway and 5th Ave. It's mostly Korean restaurants and Karaoke joints, a Korean book store, a Korean grocery store. This block of 32nd is the epicenter, there is a spill over of places in a 2 block radius of it.
Yesterday, JK was in the mood for Korean, so we met at Shilla, 37 West 32nd Street (shillanyc.com), near the corner of Broadway and 32nd on the north side. The facade is glass with two doors. Three people will greet you as you enter the restaurant. One of them is a gentleman in a suit who, if he sees you standing outside the restaurant, will wave and beckon you in. He might come outside to talk with you about the menu and the very excellent food as his restaurant.
It was raining yesterday and they have this contraption that will wrap your umbrella in a skinny plastic bag so that you can carry it with you into the restaurant without tracking water all over the place. Brilliant.
We were seated in the back and had immediate opinions on what to get. JK wanted Pork Belly BBQ. And I wanted Pajun, a giant pancake. In addition we after much discussion settled on getting Kalbi Tang a beef soup. The waitress persuaded us to upgrade to the Spicy Marinated Pork Belly.
They brought out many banchan, impressive in number, mostly just okay. The notable exception to this was a seaweed kimchi made from miyeok, which was excellent, spicy, a la dente, with a hint of the ocean. Their kimchi was serviceable but pretty mild. JK asked for an order of Radish Kimchi, Kkakdugi, which was a significant improvement, crunchy and spicy.
The pajun was greasy, crispy, and filling. We ate half and I took the other half home. Today it's a whole different animal. Possibly because I generally like food the day after but also perhaps because I was hungover this morning. Pajun is the perfect hangover food. It has carbs, grease, squid and it's crispy with a soft center. I think the day after the oil has more time to seep in. It's not as light. It's heartier with appropriate substance.
They kindly offered to cook the Pork Belly for us. We didn't want to smell of cooked meat, but of course everyone around us was bbq'ing at the table so we ended up smelling like cooked meat anyway. Getting it spicy marinated was an excellent suggestion. It was thinly sliced, tender, fatty, meaty, spicy, and a little bit sweet, especially at the points where the slices charred a little.
The Kalbi Tang was a big bowl of comfort. The broth was clear and fatty but not too fatty, salty but not too salty, with enormous tender hunks of beef the size of a fist and some thinly sliced daikon radish.
They brought us three bowls of rice. A nice touch for a table of two people.
The restaurant offered up a bonus round for their diners. At some point they brought out a big tray of small panfried whole fishes. Everyone in the restaurant got one. It was lightly battered and fried to a crisp, the length of my hand. I was too full to eat it yesterday but reheated it and had it today. Bony but satisfying, just salty enough, firm fleshed and while oily, not too fishy. And the tail and fins had an excellent crunch.
As I was reducing it to a pile of tiny bones, I realized that I am not a big fan of fish in filet form. But if you pass me a plate with the whole fish, head to tail, it's a real delight. Even if navigating the bones is perilous.
My father told me that as a kid, when the family had fish, his brother got the tail and he got the head. He said that the head was delicious. The best part. I always laughed at a child at my silly father. I doubted him but I had no way of knowing. How does the head of a fish taste? Today, having eaten as much of the head as I could discern to be digestible, I would agree that a lightly battered, pan fried fish head is indeed delicious.
Yesterday, JK was in the mood for Korean, so we met at Shilla, 37 West 32nd Street (shillanyc.com), near the corner of Broadway and 32nd on the north side. The facade is glass with two doors. Three people will greet you as you enter the restaurant. One of them is a gentleman in a suit who, if he sees you standing outside the restaurant, will wave and beckon you in. He might come outside to talk with you about the menu and the very excellent food as his restaurant.
It was raining yesterday and they have this contraption that will wrap your umbrella in a skinny plastic bag so that you can carry it with you into the restaurant without tracking water all over the place. Brilliant.
We were seated in the back and had immediate opinions on what to get. JK wanted Pork Belly BBQ. And I wanted Pajun, a giant pancake. In addition we after much discussion settled on getting Kalbi Tang a beef soup. The waitress persuaded us to upgrade to the Spicy Marinated Pork Belly.
They brought out many banchan, impressive in number, mostly just okay. The notable exception to this was a seaweed kimchi made from miyeok, which was excellent, spicy, a la dente, with a hint of the ocean. Their kimchi was serviceable but pretty mild. JK asked for an order of Radish Kimchi, Kkakdugi, which was a significant improvement, crunchy and spicy.
The pajun was greasy, crispy, and filling. We ate half and I took the other half home. Today it's a whole different animal. Possibly because I generally like food the day after but also perhaps because I was hungover this morning. Pajun is the perfect hangover food. It has carbs, grease, squid and it's crispy with a soft center. I think the day after the oil has more time to seep in. It's not as light. It's heartier with appropriate substance.
They kindly offered to cook the Pork Belly for us. We didn't want to smell of cooked meat, but of course everyone around us was bbq'ing at the table so we ended up smelling like cooked meat anyway. Getting it spicy marinated was an excellent suggestion. It was thinly sliced, tender, fatty, meaty, spicy, and a little bit sweet, especially at the points where the slices charred a little.
The Kalbi Tang was a big bowl of comfort. The broth was clear and fatty but not too fatty, salty but not too salty, with enormous tender hunks of beef the size of a fist and some thinly sliced daikon radish.
They brought us three bowls of rice. A nice touch for a table of two people.
The restaurant offered up a bonus round for their diners. At some point they brought out a big tray of small panfried whole fishes. Everyone in the restaurant got one. It was lightly battered and fried to a crisp, the length of my hand. I was too full to eat it yesterday but reheated it and had it today. Bony but satisfying, just salty enough, firm fleshed and while oily, not too fishy. And the tail and fins had an excellent crunch.
As I was reducing it to a pile of tiny bones, I realized that I am not a big fan of fish in filet form. But if you pass me a plate with the whole fish, head to tail, it's a real delight. Even if navigating the bones is perilous.
My father told me that as a kid, when the family had fish, his brother got the tail and he got the head. He said that the head was delicious. The best part. I always laughed at a child at my silly father. I doubted him but I had no way of knowing. How does the head of a fish taste? Today, having eaten as much of the head as I could discern to be digestible, I would agree that a lightly battered, pan fried fish head is indeed delicious.
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