the sheets here all smell like sandalwood. a familiar smell but not one associated with western sheets. a good metaphor for hong kong. its neither overwhelmingly asian, as i first expected, nor completely westernized, but rather somewhere in between. since the city is about to celebrate its 10th anniversary as part of china, it makes sense that centuries of english rule would have this affect on the country.
they drive on the opposite side of the road from the us (thanks jenny!) but unlike the metropolitan of london, they careen up a curving, one-way in each direction cliff side road cut into the mountain. all signs are written in both english and Cantonese. although most people are chinese, there are a fair amount of americans, british and europeans, but perhaps that is because we've been hitting fairly common tourist sights so far.
i had a moment or so of panic when my plane arrived way before tara and todd latini (affectionately know as "TL squared" or "TL2") expected, and once passing through customs i kinda wandered around the arrival area, wondering what exactly i should do. i had gotten confused about my arrival times, what if they had read the schedule wrong? without a cell phone, i needed to try and call her on a pay phone, but i didn't' have any local currency. so i visited a atm, only to receive $500 bills, hong kong dollars. so now i needed to find a way to transform these into a phone card or change. after talking to three visitor stations i was firmly directed to the correct place, and thankfully ran into tara and todd on the way. but felt better that if i had to, i probably could have gotten myself into hong kong proper solo, and had them meet me there.
the hong kong express from the airport takes you past chinese diseyland (i forget there was one here!) and some of the former outposts for the Beijing olympics, and into central hong kong in under twenty minutes. i was only in central hong kong for a few minutes as we zipped up the mountain to "the peak" where TL2, and most transplants, live. cabs are super cheap here, in fact, after london, everything seems super cheap here. the latini household, however, looks expensive. the wood floors are so shiny they could be mirrors, and about every window of their huge three bedroom (plus live-in maid quarters!) has spectacular views of the water. their main balcony overlooks the central part of central town, and its such a off putting feeling to be looking down on towering skyscrapers. manhattan looks tiny compared to this place. the international finance center (see "tomb raider 2") towers over everything else, which are all auspicious in daylight but kind of whimsical at night, where they seem to compete for the "silliest light show on the side of a building" award.
after dropping off my stuff and changing into attire appropriate for 85 degrees F and humid, tara and i head off to stanley, a shopping area located on the water half way across the island, near repulse bay. it stands to mention, that stanley was named after the prodigious lord stanley, yes THAT one, who would have been happy to hear of ottowa's victory last night. again, the cab raced around the precipitous curves of the mountains, wrong side of the road, which is not only a bit frightening but also Nassau inducing. a 25 minute cab ride there, it should be noted, cost about US$8. i shopped like an award winner, and managing to only spend about US$140. i loved looking at the money in my bank account at the atm here, since it gives your balance in HK$ and looks like much more then it actually is!
this could be very dangerous.
today i'm going to visit the biggest outdoor buddha in the world. ommmmm....
xx
Sunday, May 13, 2007
what a bunch of monarchy - vacation notes two
this wing of heathrow is a ghost town. gates 39-56 in the new terminal take 15 minutes to walk to from security. and now i sit waiting in front of gate 52, a mere hour before my scheduled hong kong boarding time and i'm completely, utterly alone. like, "night of the comet", "28 days later," alone. this is a beautiful change from the rest of heathrow which gives off the ambiance and sordidness of las vegas, only with more disorganization, more children and no gambling. at least, that i am aware of, in this airport, i wouldn't be too surprised if there were a back room poker den. high end shopping and liquor are everywhere, lights and noise, SO much noise. even through my ipod i can hear it.
then, right past the 1970's high-design corduroy walls of gate 38, the old terminal gives way to the new, wall open up to 24' high banks of windows on both sides, a monument of modern glass and steel. crystal cantilevered walkways shuttle out arrivals overhead as not to disturb those waiting to leave the country below. except for right now, there is no one to disturb but me. alone in the neat rows of eames inspired chairs, watching airplanes pull up and disappear through puffy clouds...
today i was able to visit kensington castle and eat at pizza express before i headed to the airport. the castle was permanent resident for some of the royals, and summer residence to most for awhile. before london spread to kensington, it was in the country and king george the first resided there for some time. much of the castle is off limits (apparently some crusty old monarchs still live ther!) but many of the ornate, ostentatious rooms are available for public viewing. the "tour" walks you through the process of gaining audience with the king, and although it seems like much nonsense in modern times, surrounded by such marble and gilt, the mind naturally turns to donald trump.
is he not the monarch of the united states, for all intents and purposes? he's got a lot of money, everyone knows him, his lavish, showy tastes are well documented, and he has no real power (over the economy or anything else, "apprentice" castmates aside) in the country, but still commands unwarranted respect and gentle mocking? quite frightening.
also in the castle were the last photographs taken of princess diana prior to her death by mario testino. these also juxtapose the difference between the formality of the throne and us commoners, as the relaxed, carefree pictures of diana laughing and grinning, slumped next to a couch on the floor, hands on hips, were said to represent her final transformation after her separation. although some originally appeared in vanity fair, many were new to the world. i was surprised how much i was impressed by then, i'd never really been one to follow her career path, but my sister and i discussed how vivid the memory was of being woken up by my mother at age seven or such, to watch the royal wedding on television. so perhaps, subconsciously, she has always had some importance in my life.
as i finish typing this a swarm of filipinos have taken over the area surrounding gate 52 and interrupted my quiet moment. probably for the better, no use rhapsodizing about the royals any further. amazingly enough, they seem to all be destined for hong kong, and it looks like i might be the only american on this plane. hmm. another first for me...
xx
then, right past the 1970's high-design corduroy walls of gate 38, the old terminal gives way to the new, wall open up to 24' high banks of windows on both sides, a monument of modern glass and steel. crystal cantilevered walkways shuttle out arrivals overhead as not to disturb those waiting to leave the country below. except for right now, there is no one to disturb but me. alone in the neat rows of eames inspired chairs, watching airplanes pull up and disappear through puffy clouds...
today i was able to visit kensington castle and eat at pizza express before i headed to the airport. the castle was permanent resident for some of the royals, and summer residence to most for awhile. before london spread to kensington, it was in the country and king george the first resided there for some time. much of the castle is off limits (apparently some crusty old monarchs still live ther!) but many of the ornate, ostentatious rooms are available for public viewing. the "tour" walks you through the process of gaining audience with the king, and although it seems like much nonsense in modern times, surrounded by such marble and gilt, the mind naturally turns to donald trump.
is he not the monarch of the united states, for all intents and purposes? he's got a lot of money, everyone knows him, his lavish, showy tastes are well documented, and he has no real power (over the economy or anything else, "apprentice" castmates aside) in the country, but still commands unwarranted respect and gentle mocking? quite frightening.
also in the castle were the last photographs taken of princess diana prior to her death by mario testino. these also juxtapose the difference between the formality of the throne and us commoners, as the relaxed, carefree pictures of diana laughing and grinning, slumped next to a couch on the floor, hands on hips, were said to represent her final transformation after her separation. although some originally appeared in vanity fair, many were new to the world. i was surprised how much i was impressed by then, i'd never really been one to follow her career path, but my sister and i discussed how vivid the memory was of being woken up by my mother at age seven or such, to watch the royal wedding on television. so perhaps, subconsciously, she has always had some importance in my life.
as i finish typing this a swarm of filipinos have taken over the area surrounding gate 52 and interrupted my quiet moment. probably for the better, no use rhapsodizing about the royals any further. amazingly enough, they seem to all be destined for hong kong, and it looks like i might be the only american on this plane. hmm. another first for me...
xx
Friday, May 11, 2007
man can not live on crisps alone - vacation notes one
so far, my vacation has not been the typical english experience, which is exactly what i had though it would be. in fact, kensington, my sister's 'hood, reminds me distinctly of blythe and carl's neighborhood in washington dc. except for the driving backwards. and her super posh house. but perhaps it is because i'm a decade veteran of new york city, nothing seems as foreign here as it did last time i visited, back in college and shortly after college. even the people don't look altogether that different. and i should know, i've been bloody staring...
and eavesdropping. i'm quite good at it actually. most likely because most brits seem to think americans are so dumb that if i put a semi-blank expression on my face, they must think i'm mentally counting sheep or such, because they have the most personal conversations immediately in my vicinity. i'v already decided my favorite (favourite?!) words here are "grim" which should be used more often and "pardon" instead of "excuse me" which i will adopt back in the states.
yesterday i just caught up with my sister and did a little stroll around her neighborhood, had some cornish pasties (two of which - onion cheese and tomato - and - piri piri chicken - were good, the third - lamb and mint - rubbish!) and napped like a champion. i had this illusion the ambien i popped on the plane was going to cure me from any jetlag, and was kinda disappointed to find out i was affected like any normal person. i wasted a few hours sleeping, and promptly fell asleep close to 9pm. actually, i passed out on the couch way before then, but woke up to have some "take away" Lebanese food. good stuff.
i've been trying some unusual food stuffs here, like a scotch egg (hardboiled egg wrapped in sausage) but i've got to tip my hat to the brits and there love of crisps, aka potato chips. i know chewy has ruminated about this before, but its astounding how many flavors they have. ehem, flavours. roast chicken? steak and onions? baked ham! bacon and blue cheese! and those are just the meats!! yesterday i had feta, lemon and thyme crisps and today we tried farmhouse cheddar and chives. i don't know why the cheddar was "farmhouse" but it was good. with all the variations, you seriously could go on an all crisp diet, croak of heart failure, and die with a smile on your face.
if you were washing them down with what i feel is a genius invention that someone needs to get on top of the bureau of ATF to allow in america. from marks & spenser, fine purveyor of ready to eat foods and stuff, come cocktails in a can. whisky and soda, vodka and tonic, gin and tonic, margaritas. and not "made from malt liquor to taste like a cocktail, cocktails" honest to god liquor and mixer in a can. bless them. who's ever headed off to a house party and though, "hey, i don't feel like beer tonight?" instead of buying a bottle and mixers, wondering if the host has ice, etc, etc, a six pack of these puppies and you're ready to go! this makes up for a lot of english culture.
although, beyond shopping, i can't say i've immersed myself in too much culture. driving by royal albert hall doesn't count. today we visited the Tate Modern, which was pretty auspicious. i liked it a bunch. i've always been a huge fan of surrealism and dug all the dali, miro, magrite and ernst they had there. practically a whole wing! but some of the other stuff, interesting to look at, yet i just don't understand. someone, please, and i say this without malice or sarcasm, explain rothko to me. i just don't get it. why?
the building itself is special, its a converted power station and an amazing feat of architecture. the one souvenir i've bought so far is a book about the four Tate museums and how they were designed. can't wait to read it.
not to say i haven't bought anything. i purchased two pairs of shorts at the infamous "topshop" yesterday, and although i dug 'em both, the store seems like a sibling to "forever 21" nothing too special. i also got a few trinkets to take to folks back home, and this weird, tart, so unusual its good, jam made from gooseberry and coriander for myself at borough market.
borough market is the london equivalent of chelsea market. although there is a history there, it resides underneath the famous london bridge and has all sorts of cool corners and eaves, but its basically just lots of fresh produce, meats and cheeses. it all looked tempting but nothing so out of the ordinary that you couldn't get it at, well, chelsea market. but it was still enjoyable to wander around and taste bits of this and that, snap a lot of pictures of the artfully arranged food. i'm aiming to get the art of picture composition down prior to asia, so i'm snapping a lot of shots. even when i excuse myself with the "well, i'm a tourist so its ok"
the one place tonight that i did NOT feel like a tourist was the absolute, yes THAT absolute, ice bar. its basically a gimmicky spot for tourists and first-daters (my sis: "well how can you tell they're on a first date" me: "cause they look all awkward and are carrying flowers, no one brings flowers to a third date.") and one big advertisement for the ice hotel in sweden. home of absolute. you pay £30 to gain access to a 24'x24' room which has been chilled to below zero and rimmed with blocks of ice. and ice benches, ice tables, an ice bar, and they serve absolute drinks in glasses made of out ice. they give you these silver "capes" made out of fake fur on the inside and with mittens attached and let you loose. you're not allowed to stay for more then 45 minutes, and you must make reservations, but once the novelty wore off, and your fingers got numb, it was like, "ok, so... this is the ice bar. um, so can we go?!"
the drinks were crazy awful too. like, "absolute peppar, apple liquor and pineapple juice" no, i did not just make that up to give an example, that's actually what my brother-in-law drank. i picked something with absolute raspberry and blue curacao that didn't sound disgusting but it tasted like generic 'tussin. ick. the nice sancerre we had at dinner erased the taste, thankfully, and it went well with my duck i devoured, in honor of the game pending in the good ole usa. go wings.
tomorrow i leave for hong kong and will quite literally spend a day in the air. i take off saturday evening and arrive monday morning. kinda like a bender but without the alcohol. or, er, much alcohol.
cheerio good chaps! xxoo
and eavesdropping. i'm quite good at it actually. most likely because most brits seem to think americans are so dumb that if i put a semi-blank expression on my face, they must think i'm mentally counting sheep or such, because they have the most personal conversations immediately in my vicinity. i'v already decided my favorite (favourite?!) words here are "grim" which should be used more often and "pardon" instead of "excuse me" which i will adopt back in the states.
yesterday i just caught up with my sister and did a little stroll around her neighborhood, had some cornish pasties (two of which - onion cheese and tomato - and - piri piri chicken - were good, the third - lamb and mint - rubbish!) and napped like a champion. i had this illusion the ambien i popped on the plane was going to cure me from any jetlag, and was kinda disappointed to find out i was affected like any normal person. i wasted a few hours sleeping, and promptly fell asleep close to 9pm. actually, i passed out on the couch way before then, but woke up to have some "take away" Lebanese food. good stuff.
i've been trying some unusual food stuffs here, like a scotch egg (hardboiled egg wrapped in sausage) but i've got to tip my hat to the brits and there love of crisps, aka potato chips. i know chewy has ruminated about this before, but its astounding how many flavors they have. ehem, flavours. roast chicken? steak and onions? baked ham! bacon and blue cheese! and those are just the meats!! yesterday i had feta, lemon and thyme crisps and today we tried farmhouse cheddar and chives. i don't know why the cheddar was "farmhouse" but it was good. with all the variations, you seriously could go on an all crisp diet, croak of heart failure, and die with a smile on your face.
if you were washing them down with what i feel is a genius invention that someone needs to get on top of the bureau of ATF to allow in america. from marks & spenser, fine purveyor of ready to eat foods and stuff, come cocktails in a can. whisky and soda, vodka and tonic, gin and tonic, margaritas. and not "made from malt liquor to taste like a cocktail, cocktails" honest to god liquor and mixer in a can. bless them. who's ever headed off to a house party and though, "hey, i don't feel like beer tonight?" instead of buying a bottle and mixers, wondering if the host has ice, etc, etc, a six pack of these puppies and you're ready to go! this makes up for a lot of english culture.
although, beyond shopping, i can't say i've immersed myself in too much culture. driving by royal albert hall doesn't count. today we visited the Tate Modern, which was pretty auspicious. i liked it a bunch. i've always been a huge fan of surrealism and dug all the dali, miro, magrite and ernst they had there. practically a whole wing! but some of the other stuff, interesting to look at, yet i just don't understand. someone, please, and i say this without malice or sarcasm, explain rothko to me. i just don't get it. why?
the building itself is special, its a converted power station and an amazing feat of architecture. the one souvenir i've bought so far is a book about the four Tate museums and how they were designed. can't wait to read it.
not to say i haven't bought anything. i purchased two pairs of shorts at the infamous "topshop" yesterday, and although i dug 'em both, the store seems like a sibling to "forever 21" nothing too special. i also got a few trinkets to take to folks back home, and this weird, tart, so unusual its good, jam made from gooseberry and coriander for myself at borough market.
borough market is the london equivalent of chelsea market. although there is a history there, it resides underneath the famous london bridge and has all sorts of cool corners and eaves, but its basically just lots of fresh produce, meats and cheeses. it all looked tempting but nothing so out of the ordinary that you couldn't get it at, well, chelsea market. but it was still enjoyable to wander around and taste bits of this and that, snap a lot of pictures of the artfully arranged food. i'm aiming to get the art of picture composition down prior to asia, so i'm snapping a lot of shots. even when i excuse myself with the "well, i'm a tourist so its ok"
the one place tonight that i did NOT feel like a tourist was the absolute, yes THAT absolute, ice bar. its basically a gimmicky spot for tourists and first-daters (my sis: "well how can you tell they're on a first date" me: "cause they look all awkward and are carrying flowers, no one brings flowers to a third date.") and one big advertisement for the ice hotel in sweden. home of absolute. you pay £30 to gain access to a 24'x24' room which has been chilled to below zero and rimmed with blocks of ice. and ice benches, ice tables, an ice bar, and they serve absolute drinks in glasses made of out ice. they give you these silver "capes" made out of fake fur on the inside and with mittens attached and let you loose. you're not allowed to stay for more then 45 minutes, and you must make reservations, but once the novelty wore off, and your fingers got numb, it was like, "ok, so... this is the ice bar. um, so can we go?!"
the drinks were crazy awful too. like, "absolute peppar, apple liquor and pineapple juice" no, i did not just make that up to give an example, that's actually what my brother-in-law drank. i picked something with absolute raspberry and blue curacao that didn't sound disgusting but it tasted like generic 'tussin. ick. the nice sancerre we had at dinner erased the taste, thankfully, and it went well with my duck i devoured, in honor of the game pending in the good ole usa. go wings.
tomorrow i leave for hong kong and will quite literally spend a day in the air. i take off saturday evening and arrive monday morning. kinda like a bender but without the alcohol. or, er, much alcohol.
cheerio good chaps! xxoo
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Meet the new blog, same as the old blog...
i always said i would stay on myspace until it bit me in the ass. it actually never came to that, i just got bored as hell with the childish antics it brought out in everyone. in an attempt to salvage myself from the lame, i've moved all my older blog posts over to this space.
time permitting, i hope to keep it going and keep writing. of course, if my workload keeps up, i may wind up blogging about the need for deeper pools of liquidity in the global block trading marketplace.
but i'll try to keep it a little bit more topical.
time permitting, i hope to keep it going and keep writing. of course, if my workload keeps up, i may wind up blogging about the need for deeper pools of liquidity in the global block trading marketplace.
but i'll try to keep it a little bit more topical.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
Monday, October 16, 2006 - veuve cliequot and budwiser, duplicity rocks
for some reason, the common definition for duplicity has a bad connotation. but having duality does not necessarily mean you have ill intentions.
my life has always been a dichotomy. i like the i balance of not saying no to something because it seems to be the polar opposite of the majority of your personality. i find this to be a key to staying happy. how else do you temper a long, complicated day at the office then with a few hours of heavy duty partying?
thursday night was able to even turn my partying into a duplicitious event. after work i attended a reception honoring the iranian photographer/filmmaker shirin neshat. this woman has been endlessly praised for her questioning portrayal of women in islamic society, and her films, which they showed a few clips, were so visually powerful. i met her very briefly and even in her petite stature she was auspicious. i only knew a few other people there (and truth be told only liked one!) so, fueled by expensive champagne, i let the night carry me and had some lovely conversation with some interesting, avant-garde strangers. i spoke for a while with a very pregnant women who was half iranian and half french, she glowed in the proverbial way of those with child, with an accent so beautiful, her pronunciation of "camembert" sounded sexual. the reception was very refined, the kind of party which causes you to stand up straight and keep your head held high, and as i worked the room, sipping my veuve, i spotted a familiar shock of red hair across the room. no, not ms. BA miale, but someone about 30 years older, the saffron hue matching the exact shade of the fabric she had used in the gates in central park she and her husband had configured last year. it was christo and jean claude, who had so famously wrapped, curtained and screened landscapes all of the world and made millions of trillions of dollars doing it. i had to at least introduce myself.** christo was mute, but jean-claude of the bright red hair was gracious and fascinating. i actually said to her, "your achievement in central park was stunning, you must be quite proud"
yes, i can be quite refined when i chose to be. which is why my duplicity seems to be an asset.
i left the reception, got on a train to go back to brooklyn, where i had plans with yet another christo. quite the opposite of refined, we intended to watch the rangers game and play video games. ever since i saw the previews for "dead rising," where you play photojournalist trapped in a shopping mall for 72 hours with zombies, i have been dying (pun intended) to play.
you can kill the zombies with anything you can pick up. which is everything. my personal favorites have to be the chainsaw and dumbell, although the teddy bear and plastic food court chair were great fun. christo knew i was psyched for the game and we had planned to get together once he bought it and xbox 360-it up. we drank 16oz budwiser cans and watched hockey and played zombies. he also picked up NHY 2K7, so with the big screen playing the live game, we had our own little devils/rangers face off. he kicked my ass, but i didn't take that much offense, considering he has been playing for 15 years and i had been playing for 15 minutes.
as i was on my way home, the duplicity of my evening hit me. the transition from champagne to bud was blissfully easy. yet i had thoroughly enjoyed both. wasn't this the equivalent of having it all? fancy and lowbrow? high falutain and chill? with this sort of all encompassing viewpoint of life, how could duplicity be a bad thing.
this makes me recall one of my favorite days in new york city ever. for my friend chris bellotti's birthday, the two of went to dinner at three star restaurant mesa grill, followed by 7th row seats for World Wrestling Federation at the garden (where some 10 year old kid yelled at triple h that he was "hung like a mouse" which the stunned wrestler actually paused and you could see plain as day on his face how torn he was whether to go off on this peanut or not!) after screaming at the ring for two hours, chris went home and i preceeded to a cocktail party at alley sheedy's apartment, and finally to the wetlands for a friends concert. i remember not only being so happy for fitting it all in, but being happy i hadn't left anything, ANYTHING out. high brow/low brow/high brow/low brow suits me just fine.
i was actually most proud that i was able to find one single outfit to transcend all of those situations..
** the two people who i texted to excited tell i had met christo and jean-claude both responded with the same "our friend and van damme?" confused response. i love my friends.
my life has always been a dichotomy. i like the i balance of not saying no to something because it seems to be the polar opposite of the majority of your personality. i find this to be a key to staying happy. how else do you temper a long, complicated day at the office then with a few hours of heavy duty partying?
thursday night was able to even turn my partying into a duplicitious event. after work i attended a reception honoring the iranian photographer/filmmaker shirin neshat. this woman has been endlessly praised for her questioning portrayal of women in islamic society, and her films, which they showed a few clips, were so visually powerful. i met her very briefly and even in her petite stature she was auspicious. i only knew a few other people there (and truth be told only liked one!) so, fueled by expensive champagne, i let the night carry me and had some lovely conversation with some interesting, avant-garde strangers. i spoke for a while with a very pregnant women who was half iranian and half french, she glowed in the proverbial way of those with child, with an accent so beautiful, her pronunciation of "camembert" sounded sexual. the reception was very refined, the kind of party which causes you to stand up straight and keep your head held high, and as i worked the room, sipping my veuve, i spotted a familiar shock of red hair across the room. no, not ms. BA miale, but someone about 30 years older, the saffron hue matching the exact shade of the fabric she had used in the gates in central park she and her husband had configured last year. it was christo and jean claude, who had so famously wrapped, curtained and screened landscapes all of the world and made millions of trillions of dollars doing it. i had to at least introduce myself.** christo was mute, but jean-claude of the bright red hair was gracious and fascinating. i actually said to her, "your achievement in central park was stunning, you must be quite proud"
yes, i can be quite refined when i chose to be. which is why my duplicity seems to be an asset.
i left the reception, got on a train to go back to brooklyn, where i had plans with yet another christo. quite the opposite of refined, we intended to watch the rangers game and play video games. ever since i saw the previews for "dead rising," where you play photojournalist trapped in a shopping mall for 72 hours with zombies, i have been dying (pun intended) to play.
you can kill the zombies with anything you can pick up. which is everything. my personal favorites have to be the chainsaw and dumbell, although the teddy bear and plastic food court chair were great fun. christo knew i was psyched for the game and we had planned to get together once he bought it and xbox 360-it up. we drank 16oz budwiser cans and watched hockey and played zombies. he also picked up NHY 2K7, so with the big screen playing the live game, we had our own little devils/rangers face off. he kicked my ass, but i didn't take that much offense, considering he has been playing for 15 years and i had been playing for 15 minutes.
as i was on my way home, the duplicity of my evening hit me. the transition from champagne to bud was blissfully easy. yet i had thoroughly enjoyed both. wasn't this the equivalent of having it all? fancy and lowbrow? high falutain and chill? with this sort of all encompassing viewpoint of life, how could duplicity be a bad thing.
this makes me recall one of my favorite days in new york city ever. for my friend chris bellotti's birthday, the two of went to dinner at three star restaurant mesa grill, followed by 7th row seats for World Wrestling Federation at the garden (where some 10 year old kid yelled at triple h that he was "hung like a mouse" which the stunned wrestler actually paused and you could see plain as day on his face how torn he was whether to go off on this peanut or not!) after screaming at the ring for two hours, chris went home and i preceeded to a cocktail party at alley sheedy's apartment, and finally to the wetlands for a friends concert. i remember not only being so happy for fitting it all in, but being happy i hadn't left anything, ANYTHING out. high brow/low brow/high brow/low brow suits me just fine.
i was actually most proud that i was able to find one single outfit to transcend all of those situations..
** the two people who i texted to excited tell i had met christo and jean-claude both responded with the same "our friend and van damme?" confused response. i love my friends.
Thursday, October 05, 2006 - when i wasn't looking
when i was like 8, i refused to eat cauliflower. i suffered through every other vegetable there was, in fact i even liked brussel sprouts. but cauliflower, i vividly remember sitting at the diner table for at least two hours (though it seemed WAY longer at the time) to out last my parents, who couldn't police the kitchen anymore and finally let me just not eat it. it was the only vegetable i hated enough to walk away from vindicated.
but then twenty years later, i worked for a chef who was astounded by that. "how could you not like cauliflower", she asked, astonished. it was an order of priority to make me a soup of cauliflower. it was delicious. i couldn't believe this vegetable which had been my adversary in youth was, gasp, enjoyable.
after the soup she served it to me as a side dish, roasted with curry. i was in love. it was this unbelievable complex flavor. a few weeks after that, this other avant-garde client served me a spoon filed with cauliflower puree and white chocolate. it was delicious; the chocolate took the funk out of the cauliflower.
as amazed as i was, i was hooked. this is good? good?
i had a few friends over for dinner last week. we were all pretty broke ass, in fact, no one could even bring wine, we resorted to drinking the bottle of persecco i perpetually have in my fridge for occasions just like this. the cheapest meal i could make was a cauliflower ($2.79 at key foods) risotto (rice and saffron in the house) and a pork loin had in the freezer. christo came over early, to ostensibly help me cook. he helped me by eating the raw cauliflower i had broken up into popcorn size pieces like, well, popcorn. i actually had to take out the rest of head of cauliflower and ask him to break off some more. another new concept, cauliflower eaten, gulp, raw? he made me taste it, and not only was it palatable; it was in fact, scrumptious.
the pork loin, although good, was almost ignored as we all went sick over the risotto.
the bane of my childhood had transcended at last. not only do i like cauliflower, but also I liked it enough to serve it to others. is it possible? i think this may be a sign of maturity.
yikes.
but then twenty years later, i worked for a chef who was astounded by that. "how could you not like cauliflower", she asked, astonished. it was an order of priority to make me a soup of cauliflower. it was delicious. i couldn't believe this vegetable which had been my adversary in youth was, gasp, enjoyable.
after the soup she served it to me as a side dish, roasted with curry. i was in love. it was this unbelievable complex flavor. a few weeks after that, this other avant-garde client served me a spoon filed with cauliflower puree and white chocolate. it was delicious; the chocolate took the funk out of the cauliflower.
as amazed as i was, i was hooked. this is good? good?
i had a few friends over for dinner last week. we were all pretty broke ass, in fact, no one could even bring wine, we resorted to drinking the bottle of persecco i perpetually have in my fridge for occasions just like this. the cheapest meal i could make was a cauliflower ($2.79 at key foods) risotto (rice and saffron in the house) and a pork loin had in the freezer. christo came over early, to ostensibly help me cook. he helped me by eating the raw cauliflower i had broken up into popcorn size pieces like, well, popcorn. i actually had to take out the rest of head of cauliflower and ask him to break off some more. another new concept, cauliflower eaten, gulp, raw? he made me taste it, and not only was it palatable; it was in fact, scrumptious.
the pork loin, although good, was almost ignored as we all went sick over the risotto.
the bane of my childhood had transcended at last. not only do i like cauliflower, but also I liked it enough to serve it to others. is it possible? i think this may be a sign of maturity.
yikes.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006 - worth
i found out today my company bills out my time at over $200 per hour to clients...
WOWZA.
now, i indeed work my ass off on the job, and am at this very moment creeping up on hour 12 today. clients are billed incrementally in accordance to how much time exactly i spend on each one a day. although putting a price on my mental acuity seems a bit weird, it's not unjustified considering what i do.
but it got me thinking, i may be living up to this tremendous sum in the office, but am i really getting that much out of my personal hours?
did i get at least $200 value of partying in on each hour of saturday night? the last time i danced, was i dancing $200 of my heart out? hanging out last night, was my conversation worth $200, or was i slackin and too high and only mustered up $105? when i was picking out the players for my fantasy hockey team, did i put $200 of effort into my research?
i am going to make a concerted effort to live up to the potential they expect at work in my own day to day. $200 per hour worth of fun this weekend, here i come...
how wonderful would it be if my salary was $200 an hour? although that would probably require a radical career change and most likely, a pimp.
WOWZA.
now, i indeed work my ass off on the job, and am at this very moment creeping up on hour 12 today. clients are billed incrementally in accordance to how much time exactly i spend on each one a day. although putting a price on my mental acuity seems a bit weird, it's not unjustified considering what i do.
but it got me thinking, i may be living up to this tremendous sum in the office, but am i really getting that much out of my personal hours?
did i get at least $200 value of partying in on each hour of saturday night? the last time i danced, was i dancing $200 of my heart out? hanging out last night, was my conversation worth $200, or was i slackin and too high and only mustered up $105? when i was picking out the players for my fantasy hockey team, did i put $200 of effort into my research?
i am going to make a concerted effort to live up to the potential they expect at work in my own day to day. $200 per hour worth of fun this weekend, here i come...
how wonderful would it be if my salary was $200 an hour? although that would probably require a radical career change and most likely, a pimp.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
