I have done a lot this week. On Monday, I met an old friend from Sierra Leone at Bocca di Bacco, a restaurant/bar with lots of charm because there are red brick walls and stacks of wine bottles everywhere. Oh, and it just happens to be, say, 3 streets from where I live. Which means stumbling home in the freezing cold is must easier. We had a great chat: about kids, life, work, happiness, writing. I like intense chats that cover everything in about 2 hours. Leaves you feeling enriched and also tired.
On Tuesday, I went to Bowery Ballroom to hear The Antlers. Honestly, I was not blown away. The crowd was interesting: I like watching the hipsters with their chic flannel, their interesting hair styles weighed down with gel or blown upwards and around or combed in a funky way, and their suspenders, or their skirts with leggings (applies to the boys, too, just kidding). Some of them are aging hipsters, which makes me feel a little cool because while I might not be per se cool I can rock jeans and a sweater and a leather jacket better than someone 15 years older than me. Hmm, I take solace in the little things.
On Wednesday, I had dinner with an old friend from law school at Kyotofu, where everything seems tofu-like. It wasn't that bad but honestly I'm more old-fashioned and kind of like um, meat and lots of it. But still, the green tea cheesecake (with tofu?) was interesting at worst and yummy at best. Great texture. Oh, and green in color. Slightly odd.
On Thursday, today, I had dinner with another old friend from law school, visiting from London. We went to 44 and X. The advantage being that it is close by. The disadvantage being that it is actually 12 blocks away from where I live which is really, really close except when you're walking home with your laptop bag from work, carrying 20lbs of chocolates from the Lindt store for the population of India (your relatives and some whom you think are relatives but are not sure), and then have to pop into the D'Agastino along the way to buy Edam Cheese and Gouda Cheese by the dozen (prompting the check out person to say, So much cheese! So expensive!), which meant that I felt guilty and had to explain that no I'm not some frivolous fart who just dines on fancy cheese instead of milk, eggs, bread and pasta but that I'm carrying this home from my father who is convinced that he can't find these cheese products in the fair city of Mumbai, and then have to go to Duane Reade to buy the drugstore for other relatives.
Anyway, hours later everything is packed, lists have been made and checked twice, tomorrow I will be on the ball. Time for a glass of wine.
Oh, and no more eating. My stomach has grown two times in size. Oh wait I'm going on holiday for three weeks. Hello double chin.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Major issue
Puxoticus told me that my finger nails are too long, and because I've lost my nail clippers (I think they have fallen behind my dresser, I could check but too much effort required) I've taken to either (1) peeling them off forcefully or (2) trimming them with my nose hair scissors (yes, life is complicated). Today I peeled them off. And my right thumb nail is now so short that I have trouble typing. MAJOR ISSUES.
Tangra Masala
So I shlepped all the way out to Queens on Saturday to have me some Tangra Masala. Yes, this is Chinese-Indian food. Huh, you ask? Well, when I was growing up in India, there were very few foreign restaurants. All food as far as I could tell was Indian food, with the exception of one type of cuisine: Chinese Indian food. Apparently, there is a long history of Chinese Indian food in India, starting with when some Chinese exiles came to Calcutta and started doing a fusion type of cooking. I could wikipedia this and link it all but really, this is not the point the of the post. Rather, the bottom line is that sometimes on Sundays, my parents would be kind and generous and would order take-out Indian Chinese food which was ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS. I'm thinking of chicken lollipops and manchurian chicken. Utterly lipsmacking. It's so tasty and spicy and delicous.
So there I was on Saturday afternoon with Pux and FNR, downing the spiciest Hot and Sour Chicken Soup I've had in years. My nose was running. As in my tissue was soaked with goo from the spicy food clearing up my sinuses. Then I had chicken lollipops, which were good but not amazing, but still how bad can fried chicken really be? The answer: not bad. Thereafter, had some beef gravy and chicken gravy dishes which were pretty close to awesome.
After the meal, I was happy. In a food coma, yes. And I found myself in a Target which was weird. But apart from all of that, yes, I was content.
So there I was on Saturday afternoon with Pux and FNR, downing the spiciest Hot and Sour Chicken Soup I've had in years. My nose was running. As in my tissue was soaked with goo from the spicy food clearing up my sinuses. Then I had chicken lollipops, which were good but not amazing, but still how bad can fried chicken really be? The answer: not bad. Thereafter, had some beef gravy and chicken gravy dishes which were pretty close to awesome.
After the meal, I was happy. In a food coma, yes. And I found myself in a Target which was weird. But apart from all of that, yes, I was content.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Marriage
Just read this beautiful article in The New York Times about marriage and wanted to share it with you. I really like how the writer ties events in his long marriage to his wife with social movements over the years, such as the no-need-to-get-married 1970s to development in fertility treatments (and the impact on women in their 30s) in the 1980s to the present struggle for gay marriage.
But mostly I loved the part where he says that the basis for the marriage is respect for someone who is better than you in some way (and recognition, I suppose, that you are better in some way than someone else). The idea being, I suppose, that your better ways + her better ways make for a strong union where the sum is better than the individuals.
But mostly I loved the part where he says that the basis for the marriage is respect for someone who is better than you in some way (and recognition, I suppose, that you are better in some way than someone else). The idea being, I suppose, that your better ways + her better ways make for a strong union where the sum is better than the individuals.
A Streetcar Named Desire
I saw A Streetcar Named Desire on Friday night at the Brooklyn Academy of Music starring Cate Blanchett. Incredible.
I'm normally wary of performances with stars because the stars are bigger sometimes than the roles they are performing, and they forget to leave themselves out of their performances. I felt that way watching Jude Law perform Hamlet: always, I was aware that he was Jude Law and that got in the way of him being Hamlet.
This was not the case with Cate. She was incredible.
The woman is extremely imposing and makes her presence felt. But it was not as Cate per se but as Blanche DuBois.
Here's what I really liked about the play: I thought that the playwright had done an excellent job at making each character flawed, which made them human. So Blanche's downfall was her vanity, brought on at least partly by the traumatic events she had undergone in the recent years as members of her family passed away, leaving her alone; her strength was too not settle for anyone, but to be the star of her own life, alone as she was. Stella stuck with a man who sometimes treated her badly (domestic violence) but who was able to see that he loved her in a unique way. Stanley's downfall was that he could not control his temper; his strength was that his hot-headedness allowed him to try to get to the bottom of Blanche's problems (although contribute to them, he did).
The one scene that really stuck out for me was when Blanche watches Stanley strike Stella and Stella rushes away to the upstair's neighbor's house for protection only to return a little while later. Blanche matter-of-factly starts pacing about wondering what to do to protect Stella and comments on how Stella should not be with him, and I thought, what a strong woman. In all fairness to Stella, when she forgave him, part of me felt a little repulsed but part of me recognized that humans are flawed, and we take what we get and we recognize that some parts of people are better than their other parts.
I'm normally wary of performances with stars because the stars are bigger sometimes than the roles they are performing, and they forget to leave themselves out of their performances. I felt that way watching Jude Law perform Hamlet: always, I was aware that he was Jude Law and that got in the way of him being Hamlet.
This was not the case with Cate. She was incredible.
The woman is extremely imposing and makes her presence felt. But it was not as Cate per se but as Blanche DuBois.
Here's what I really liked about the play: I thought that the playwright had done an excellent job at making each character flawed, which made them human. So Blanche's downfall was her vanity, brought on at least partly by the traumatic events she had undergone in the recent years as members of her family passed away, leaving her alone; her strength was too not settle for anyone, but to be the star of her own life, alone as she was. Stella stuck with a man who sometimes treated her badly (domestic violence) but who was able to see that he loved her in a unique way. Stanley's downfall was that he could not control his temper; his strength was that his hot-headedness allowed him to try to get to the bottom of Blanche's problems (although contribute to them, he did).
The one scene that really stuck out for me was when Blanche watches Stanley strike Stella and Stella rushes away to the upstair's neighbor's house for protection only to return a little while later. Blanche matter-of-factly starts pacing about wondering what to do to protect Stella and comments on how Stella should not be with him, and I thought, what a strong woman. In all fairness to Stella, when she forgave him, part of me felt a little repulsed but part of me recognized that humans are flawed, and we take what we get and we recognize that some parts of people are better than their other parts.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
What have I been up to?
You might have been thinking from my relative recent silence that I have been chained to my desk working on the 150 filings that happened to come to me in November. Well, frantic work turned out to be for naught because at the last minute our extension request was granted, which means the madness will now continue in February 2010. Ah my job.
Anyway, I've been out and about of late. In fact, it's presently 1:17am and I want to lay my tired head on my pillow, but I feel an obligation to you, my readers, to blog. After all, how annoying must it be to go to the bother of pulling up my blog only to find that there's nothing new to read? (See how magnanimous and kind I am.)
So, let me get to it. On Thursday, I went to see Pink Martini perform at The Town Hall. They were so good. Basically, it's a band from Oregon that incorporates all sorts of fancy orchestral instruments into their repertoire, such as cello, violins, trumpets. They're creative and very musical, and their songs range from incorporating latin samba beats to swing music to poems. The lead singer also sings in French, Spanish, Turkish, Croatian.
What I really like about this group is how much the musicians seemed to be enjoying themselves on stage. They did not take themselves too serious. Which is good because some of their songs draw on complex sources of inspiration, such as Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, obscure 1970 French foreign films, motifs from classical composers like Tchaikovsky, etc. All of which might seem a little faux high brow, if you know what I mean, but because they're so intent on just performing and having a good time, you go along for the ride, too. In particular, I loved U Plavu Zoru, apparently sung in Croatian, which has a beautiful, beautiful cello opening. Seriously, the cellist Pansy Cheng was absolutely phenomenal; the sound had the most beautiful - and haunting - timbre.
Anyway, I've been out and about of late. In fact, it's presently 1:17am and I want to lay my tired head on my pillow, but I feel an obligation to you, my readers, to blog. After all, how annoying must it be to go to the bother of pulling up my blog only to find that there's nothing new to read? (See how magnanimous and kind I am.)
So, let me get to it. On Thursday, I went to see Pink Martini perform at The Town Hall. They were so good. Basically, it's a band from Oregon that incorporates all sorts of fancy orchestral instruments into their repertoire, such as cello, violins, trumpets. They're creative and very musical, and their songs range from incorporating latin samba beats to swing music to poems. The lead singer also sings in French, Spanish, Turkish, Croatian.
What I really like about this group is how much the musicians seemed to be enjoying themselves on stage. They did not take themselves too serious. Which is good because some of their songs draw on complex sources of inspiration, such as Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, obscure 1970 French foreign films, motifs from classical composers like Tchaikovsky, etc. All of which might seem a little faux high brow, if you know what I mean, but because they're so intent on just performing and having a good time, you go along for the ride, too. In particular, I loved U Plavu Zoru, apparently sung in Croatian, which has a beautiful, beautiful cello opening. Seriously, the cellist Pansy Cheng was absolutely phenomenal; the sound had the most beautiful - and haunting - timbre.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Today
Yes, I know Karendipity says that I should have more creative titles, and Antonius Van DeMarcus seconded that motion, but honestly it's too much effort to think in advance about the content of a blog post and then find an appropriate title. Becuase really my blogging is sort of a stream of consciousness type of effort, which means that I start typing and then just press "publish" whenever I'm done. So you might query why I don't write the title in after I've done the post but hey, I'm idiosyncratic and complicated, OK, so leave me alone.
Today I made a lot of food:
(1) Spinach + artichoke + cream cheese dip, which I slathered on bread;
(2) Penne vodka (bacon + garlic + onion + basel + red pepper flakes + heavy cream + vodka); and
(3) an almond and pear tart.
Yes, I'm eating too much and not going to the gym. Give me a break. It's December. I need to be unhealthy now so that I can have an appropriate New Years Resolution, right?
Or so I console myself (now and during the remaining days of the month of December).
Lots has happened since my last post. I went up to Connecticut to see the cutest baby in the history of the world. When I visit friends who live outside of New York, I really wonder why I feel the need to spend an obscene amount of money to live in a tiny space without the amenities of a car and a garden and oh a dining table that seats more than four people and oh space to sleep (a bedroom) and to work (a study) and to entertain (a living room) and to eat (a dining room) and to watch the amazing neighbourhood views (a "sun room"???). I mean really: a sun room?
Yes, yes, I know I should be happy I live in an amazing city.
Today I made a lot of food:
(1) Spinach + artichoke + cream cheese dip, which I slathered on bread;
(2) Penne vodka (bacon + garlic + onion + basel + red pepper flakes + heavy cream + vodka); and
(3) an almond and pear tart.
Yes, I'm eating too much and not going to the gym. Give me a break. It's December. I need to be unhealthy now so that I can have an appropriate New Years Resolution, right?
Or so I console myself (now and during the remaining days of the month of December).
Lots has happened since my last post. I went up to Connecticut to see the cutest baby in the history of the world. When I visit friends who live outside of New York, I really wonder why I feel the need to spend an obscene amount of money to live in a tiny space without the amenities of a car and a garden and oh a dining table that seats more than four people and oh space to sleep (a bedroom) and to work (a study) and to entertain (a living room) and to eat (a dining room) and to watch the amazing neighbourhood views (a "sun room"???). I mean really: a sun room?
Yes, yes, I know I should be happy I live in an amazing city.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Rambles
Majohnst says that she rambles in her blog, but I happen to think that it's beautiful rambling. So I decided that if if I want to ramble, then I will ramble. After all, this is a blog where I get to out-pour and you will have to listen to my drizzle, raindrops, thunderous rain.
Speaking of which, it is raining a lot in New York today. I am in two minds about this. Ordinarily, I would throw open the rain and listen to the sounds. In Sierra Leone, I did that all the time (sometimes resulting in my room flooding, c'est la vie?). In my old apartment in New York I could do this, too, because my bedroom overlooked a garden and I was four (long, elevator-less) flights up. But now I'm on the second floor and I overlook a relatively busy street and even with the bedroom windows closed I can hear the cars go by so for now I foresake the sound of the rain and content myself with the knowledge that my living room window is open and perhaps that pitter patter is enough for now. Even if it is in the other room.
Speaking of looking on the brighter side of life, December is upon us, which means that holidays will be upon us (me?) soon. And I have plenty of holidays ahead of me. Will be traveling to India from December 18 to January 10 (yes, three whole weeks!) and at some point during these three weeks I will be going to Sri Lanka with my family for a week-long vacation. Am looking forward. Love the end of the year: December is already full of pleasant and happy things. Like: a trip up to Connecticut this weekend to see old dear friends and their baby, another David Gray concert (yes, I'm obsessed, so sue me), The Antlers concert, firm holiday party (which I enjoyed last year and there's no reason why I won't this year, right?), dinner parties with law school friends from out of town who are en routing in New York, Pink Martini concert with my siblings, A Streetcar Named Desire with Cate Blanchett (as the actress, not my date, oh I wish). Yes, lots to do. Which hopefully means some good blogging in store for you. You can only hope.
Speaking of which, it is raining a lot in New York today. I am in two minds about this. Ordinarily, I would throw open the rain and listen to the sounds. In Sierra Leone, I did that all the time (sometimes resulting in my room flooding, c'est la vie?). In my old apartment in New York I could do this, too, because my bedroom overlooked a garden and I was four (long, elevator-less) flights up. But now I'm on the second floor and I overlook a relatively busy street and even with the bedroom windows closed I can hear the cars go by so for now I foresake the sound of the rain and content myself with the knowledge that my living room window is open and perhaps that pitter patter is enough for now. Even if it is in the other room.
Speaking of looking on the brighter side of life, December is upon us, which means that holidays will be upon us (me?) soon. And I have plenty of holidays ahead of me. Will be traveling to India from December 18 to January 10 (yes, three whole weeks!) and at some point during these three weeks I will be going to Sri Lanka with my family for a week-long vacation. Am looking forward. Love the end of the year: December is already full of pleasant and happy things. Like: a trip up to Connecticut this weekend to see old dear friends and their baby, another David Gray concert (yes, I'm obsessed, so sue me), The Antlers concert, firm holiday party (which I enjoyed last year and there's no reason why I won't this year, right?), dinner parties with law school friends from out of town who are en routing in New York, Pink Martini concert with my siblings, A Streetcar Named Desire with Cate Blanchett (as the actress, not my date, oh I wish). Yes, lots to do. Which hopefully means some good blogging in store for you. You can only hope.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Now where was I
The Crazy Ant speculates that perhaps I have created alter ego accounts to increase the number of comments on my posts. Which is not beyond the realm of possibility. Lord only knows the lengths of desperation some people go to in order to get comments on their blog. Ahem.
Sunday was my quiet day. I haven't come to terms with Sunday yet. Not for my 29.almost1/2 years of life. At first, I was all conflicted because Sunday meant having to serve as an altar boy at mass and quite frankly I didn't want to be an altar boy. (No, those who are thinking of scandals, it had nothing to do with priests and boys -- ugh, I'm being a bit sacrilegious but b/c I just didn't . . . care enough?). And then Sunday became a drag in high school and college because I always had so much homework to do which meant that Sunday evening loomed and grew larger by the moment and Monday always sucked because I went to sleep on Sunday night doing all the things that I was supposed to do on Friday night/ Sat and Sun (homework wise, of course). Now, I'm not sure what to make of Sundays. They're still a bit blah but they also bring in that dose of guilt that I should be going to church but I'm not and it's not because I'm being rebelious (what, you think I'm 20?) or because I'm lazy (well, perhaps but not really - I can be active when need be) but just because . . . I don't want to go to church right now.
Anyway, so there I was minding my own business when it hit me MY DVR FAILED ME. Yes, you read correctly. You see, if there is anything that my DVR should know about me - and it should know a lot given our intimate relationship - it is that I love and adore Law and Order Special Victims Unit above all things. So when I found out that it had not taped and recorded the episodes "Perverted" and "Turmoil" because I had inadvertently asked it to tape So You Think You Can Dance (I'm fine w/ watching the show on fast forward mostly BUT CERTAINLY NOT AT THE EXPENSE OF LAW AND ORDER SVU), you can imagine that my life came apart and the world as I knew it stood still and was on the brink of explosion.
So I decided to go online and find a free episode of it. Except apparently they regulate this stuff quite well. Which meant that none of the usual suspects had the episodes (hulu.com, nbc.om/blahblahlink to svu) and then when I went into unchartered territory, lo and behold, I downnlaoded this crazy virus that DEVASTATATED MY COMPUTER.
Anyway, so then I had to find a computer repair place over the weekend to fix my computer because Lord only knows that staring at the computer screen all day long (and sometimes all night long) just isn't enough and when I come home I want to be able to log into my computer and do stuff like email and chat (or, more importantly, come up with a good running mix on my itunes because yes, we are going to get in shape in 2010 and go BACK TO THE GYM).
Is it wrong of me that when the technician answered he didn't have an Indian accent but an East European one? I thought but oh how good can your company for computer repairs be if you don't have an Indian answering the phone. Which I recognize is mildly (severely?) biased. But anyway. When I took Principles of Applied Econometrics, it was me in the class along with 10 actual smart Indians (the "real Indians"???) and the rest were all Bulgarian, Romanian and from other Eastern European countries. OH, and China. How could I forget.
Anyway, I trusted them and several $$$ later my wallet is lighter and my computer is fixed. Which is why you have been blessed with this blog entry.
How has the week been, you wonder? Well, let's say that I saw the sunrise come up while at work again, and it was not fine. I stumbled home feeling unshaven and dirty at 715am while the city came to life. I briefly, briefly (a momentito if you will) contemplated going to the gym because I was high on life (meaning I wasn't dead to the world given the time) but abandoned that thought sensibly in favor of my bed. Which is what I am going to do now.
Sunday was my quiet day. I haven't come to terms with Sunday yet. Not for my 29.almost1/2 years of life. At first, I was all conflicted because Sunday meant having to serve as an altar boy at mass and quite frankly I didn't want to be an altar boy. (No, those who are thinking of scandals, it had nothing to do with priests and boys -- ugh, I'm being a bit sacrilegious but b/c I just didn't . . . care enough?). And then Sunday became a drag in high school and college because I always had so much homework to do which meant that Sunday evening loomed and grew larger by the moment and Monday always sucked because I went to sleep on Sunday night doing all the things that I was supposed to do on Friday night/ Sat and Sun (homework wise, of course). Now, I'm not sure what to make of Sundays. They're still a bit blah but they also bring in that dose of guilt that I should be going to church but I'm not and it's not because I'm being rebelious (what, you think I'm 20?) or because I'm lazy (well, perhaps but not really - I can be active when need be) but just because . . . I don't want to go to church right now.
Anyway, so there I was minding my own business when it hit me MY DVR FAILED ME. Yes, you read correctly. You see, if there is anything that my DVR should know about me - and it should know a lot given our intimate relationship - it is that I love and adore Law and Order Special Victims Unit above all things. So when I found out that it had not taped and recorded the episodes "Perverted" and "Turmoil" because I had inadvertently asked it to tape So You Think You Can Dance (I'm fine w/ watching the show on fast forward mostly BUT CERTAINLY NOT AT THE EXPENSE OF LAW AND ORDER SVU), you can imagine that my life came apart and the world as I knew it stood still and was on the brink of explosion.
So I decided to go online and find a free episode of it. Except apparently they regulate this stuff quite well. Which meant that none of the usual suspects had the episodes (hulu.com, nbc.om/blahblahlink to svu) and then when I went into unchartered territory, lo and behold, I downnlaoded this crazy virus that DEVASTATATED MY COMPUTER.
Anyway, so then I had to find a computer repair place over the weekend to fix my computer because Lord only knows that staring at the computer screen all day long (and sometimes all night long) just isn't enough and when I come home I want to be able to log into my computer and do stuff like email and chat (or, more importantly, come up with a good running mix on my itunes because yes, we are going to get in shape in 2010 and go BACK TO THE GYM).
Is it wrong of me that when the technician answered he didn't have an Indian accent but an East European one? I thought but oh how good can your company for computer repairs be if you don't have an Indian answering the phone. Which I recognize is mildly (severely?) biased. But anyway. When I took Principles of Applied Econometrics, it was me in the class along with 10 actual smart Indians (the "real Indians"???) and the rest were all Bulgarian, Romanian and from other Eastern European countries. OH, and China. How could I forget.
Anyway, I trusted them and several $$$ later my wallet is lighter and my computer is fixed. Which is why you have been blessed with this blog entry.
How has the week been, you wonder? Well, let's say that I saw the sunrise come up while at work again, and it was not fine. I stumbled home feeling unshaven and dirty at 715am while the city came to life. I briefly, briefly (a momentito if you will) contemplated going to the gym because I was high on life (meaning I wasn't dead to the world given the time) but abandoned that thought sensibly in favor of my bed. Which is what I am going to do now.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Of Places in New York
Ant wonders out loud (or in comments rather) whether I will get bored of doing NYC stuff. I don't think that is the case, although I can see myself getting tired of NYC prices. Which are a lot.
But anyway, on Saturday I went to Laut for dinner. It's a South East Asian restaurant in the Flatiron District (I like individual buildings here but generally don't like the neighbourhood; it's just too dead at night and I know everyone loves Union Square but I don't like Union Square. I suppose there is the farmer's market on the weekends but I don't travel down there on the weekends. And beyond that there's nothing really appealing about it. But anyway). So there I was having dinner. The restaurant space is nice: high ceilings, interesting tiles on the wall when you enter (I would have those tiles in the bathroom), nice blue porcelain plates upon which you eat your food (I would buy those plates), nice lanterns on the wall (I would buy those lanterns) but I'm not sure the overall space works.
However, the food. EXCELLENT. I wish I had better recollection of the things that I eat (unlike Karendipity and Eddotlin) but here's my best shot: I had fried fish cakes (DELICIOUS), hokkien mee (or some such) (also DELICIOUS), bak choy (spelling?) (also DELICIOUS) and chili crab (surprise, surprise, the gravy was DELICIOUS but the fried crab itself was not awesome). We also had cocktails (Thai rum punch - weak; lychee martini - good). In short, excellent.
Thereafter, we went to Pipa, which I would link to except my internet does not seem to be working. It's a restaurant attached to ABC home furnishings (which I would link to but really this blog entry is becoming way too much work). It's a great setting for a cocktail or too especially because it has CHANDELIERS galore dangling from the ceilings, which means you can laugh at the ostentatiousness of it all or you can contemplate a life in which you have a beautiful brownstone in the West Village (see, e.g., the last 100 or so posts of mine) and picture the lighting in each and every room . . .
But anyway, on Saturday I went to Laut for dinner. It's a South East Asian restaurant in the Flatiron District (I like individual buildings here but generally don't like the neighbourhood; it's just too dead at night and I know everyone loves Union Square but I don't like Union Square. I suppose there is the farmer's market on the weekends but I don't travel down there on the weekends. And beyond that there's nothing really appealing about it. But anyway). So there I was having dinner. The restaurant space is nice: high ceilings, interesting tiles on the wall when you enter (I would have those tiles in the bathroom), nice blue porcelain plates upon which you eat your food (I would buy those plates), nice lanterns on the wall (I would buy those lanterns) but I'm not sure the overall space works.
However, the food. EXCELLENT. I wish I had better recollection of the things that I eat (unlike Karendipity and Eddotlin) but here's my best shot: I had fried fish cakes (DELICIOUS), hokkien mee (or some such) (also DELICIOUS), bak choy (spelling?) (also DELICIOUS) and chili crab (surprise, surprise, the gravy was DELICIOUS but the fried crab itself was not awesome). We also had cocktails (Thai rum punch - weak; lychee martini - good). In short, excellent.
Thereafter, we went to Pipa, which I would link to except my internet does not seem to be working. It's a restaurant attached to ABC home furnishings (which I would link to but really this blog entry is becoming way too much work). It's a great setting for a cocktail or too especially because it has CHANDELIERS galore dangling from the ceilings, which means you can laugh at the ostentatiousness of it all or you can contemplate a life in which you have a beautiful brownstone in the West Village (see, e.g., the last 100 or so posts of mine) and picture the lighting in each and every room . . .
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Ruminations
I went out after work to meet a broker who is going to look at apartments for me to consider buying in the new year. Let me rephrase that. I will see apartments in the plural and I will buy only one in the very singular. And will then watch my $$$ be flushed down the toilet, leaving me with no savings . . .
Yes, Caveboy is a big boy. I should call myself Big Caveboy. Hmm, yes, or I can stop calling myslef caveboy. That is a nickname that stems from days when I pretended to study in dark rooms with just the bedside lamp or desk lamp for hours on end in law school. Ok perhaps the rumours are true. No wait I didn't say that. Oh, wait, yes I just did -- to my two readers named Antoine el Gazelle and Jeezmonster (the only two faithfuls who leave comments. Oh please readers if you're out there leave comments. That way Jeezmonster gets jealous b/c I get more comments than she does. OK fine, I'll do the noble thing and link to her blog. Go read her blog. It's hilarious.
Where was I? Ok apart from apartments (do you like that? APART from APARTments) not much really. Today was a blah day at work. Oh they are all blah days at work. Work is blah. It's like alienating and Marxist and shit.
Sigh, no it's fine. I just have an inability to be happy. At my work life that is. In my personal life I'm totally yippidy doo dah. Yes, that's right! Hmmm - not convinced?
Yes, Caveboy is a big boy. I should call myself Big Caveboy. Hmm, yes, or I can stop calling myslef caveboy. That is a nickname that stems from days when I pretended to study in dark rooms with just the bedside lamp or desk lamp for hours on end in law school. Ok perhaps the rumours are true. No wait I didn't say that. Oh, wait, yes I just did -- to my two readers named Antoine el Gazelle and Jeezmonster (the only two faithfuls who leave comments. Oh please readers if you're out there leave comments. That way Jeezmonster gets jealous b/c I get more comments than she does. OK fine, I'll do the noble thing and link to her blog. Go read her blog. It's hilarious.
Where was I? Ok apart from apartments (do you like that? APART from APARTments) not much really. Today was a blah day at work. Oh they are all blah days at work. Work is blah. It's like alienating and Marxist and shit.
Sigh, no it's fine. I just have an inability to be happy. At my work life that is. In my personal life I'm totally yippidy doo dah. Yes, that's right! Hmmm - not convinced?
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Good intentions
Now that work has lessened I have these amazing intentions of going to bed early and waking up to go to the gym. I even migrate from my living room (which has great soft lighting and the gigantic TV) to my bedroom (which has crap overhead lighting reminiscent of a dorm room, will I ever get around to buying some floor lamps I have only been talking about doing that for the last 13 months since I moved on and now on this blog post).
however, the bedroom has my computer.
And the computer now plays TV thanks to websites like hulu.com.
Which means that I set my alarm for 6:30am and pat myself on the back because it is only 10:30pm and I sign off e-mail and think that I am truly responsible only to find that it is 1:24am and I have watched 2 episodes of Fringe, 2 episodes of 30 Rock and 1 episode of Modern Family and instead of effing closing the computer screen I am sharing my weakness with the world (of my few readers) in this blog post.
however, the bedroom has my computer.
And the computer now plays TV thanks to websites like hulu.com.
Which means that I set my alarm for 6:30am and pat myself on the back because it is only 10:30pm and I sign off e-mail and think that I am truly responsible only to find that it is 1:24am and I have watched 2 episodes of Fringe, 2 episodes of 30 Rock and 1 episode of Modern Family and instead of effing closing the computer screen I am sharing my weakness with the world (of my few readers) in this blog post.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Just a Regular Friday Night
This whole live large thing is really wearing me down. If I keep up this sort of hectic social life, I'm going to have to quit my job. Which means that I will not be able to go down. Which means that I will have nothing to blog. Which is the worst case scenario people, let's think positive.
On Friday night, I went to Mercury Lounge to hear Lenka perform. Don't know who Lenka is? Neither did I before Ticketmaster.com e-mailed me its weekly sales listing and I thought oh me youtube these performers since I haven't heard of oh say 95% of them and then apply my litmus test of if the tickets are less than $25 and I don't despise at least 2 songs and affirmatively like at least 2 songs then I should purchase tickets as part of my I LIVE IN NEW YORK AND I DO NEW YORK THINGS (b/c otherwise why do I pay so much rent I might as well go and live in other places (like Sierra Leone??)). Anyway, so off I went.
The opening act sucked. Some singer named Colin Smith (I have a friend from Sierra Leone named Colin Smith and let me tell you he would have been a FAR better performer) who was crapola. Lame jokes and lame lyrics.
Lenka was cute. Sort of like Lily Allen but less witty lyrics (did I just confess that I find some of Lily Allen's songs funny?). Ah, this blog is such a confessional. Fine, go ahead and judge me. Anyway, she had happy, chirpy songs and sometimes you want to be happy and chirpy, so I went along for the ride.
All in all good times. I don't love Mercury Lounge and it's in the LES (the Lower! East! Side! so farrr) but it's all good.
On Friday night, I went to Mercury Lounge to hear Lenka perform. Don't know who Lenka is? Neither did I before Ticketmaster.com e-mailed me its weekly sales listing and I thought oh me youtube these performers since I haven't heard of oh say 95% of them and then apply my litmus test of if the tickets are less than $25 and I don't despise at least 2 songs and affirmatively like at least 2 songs then I should purchase tickets as part of my I LIVE IN NEW YORK AND I DO NEW YORK THINGS (b/c otherwise why do I pay so much rent I might as well go and live in other places (like Sierra Leone??)). Anyway, so off I went.
The opening act sucked. Some singer named Colin Smith (I have a friend from Sierra Leone named Colin Smith and let me tell you he would have been a FAR better performer) who was crapola. Lame jokes and lame lyrics.
Lenka was cute. Sort of like Lily Allen but less witty lyrics (did I just confess that I find some of Lily Allen's songs funny?). Ah, this blog is such a confessional. Fine, go ahead and judge me. Anyway, she had happy, chirpy songs and sometimes you want to be happy and chirpy, so I went along for the ride.
All in all good times. I don't love Mercury Lounge and it's in the LES (the Lower! East! Side! so farrr) but it's all good.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Just a Regular Thursday Night
So I saw Jet perform tonight at the Nokia Theatre. Followed by some horrendously scary band called Papa Roach. Like, King Roach. Like, Father of the Roaches. Like, disgusting. Scary heavy metal/ hard rock/ LOUD LOUD LOUD band with lots of FLASHING FLASHING FLASHING LIGHTS and HIGH HIGH HIGH volume.
Scary.
But Jet was great. Especially when they sang "Are You Gonna Be My Girl." Made me want to dance and shake my bon bon. Which shook. (Oh come on, was that so disgusting?).
Scary.
But Jet was great. Especially when they sang "Are You Gonna Be My Girl." Made me want to dance and shake my bon bon. Which shook. (Oh come on, was that so disgusting?).
Just a Regular Wednesday Night
I can barely remember what I did on Wednesday night . . . because it seems so long ago. This whole "seize the day" "carpe diem" "reclaim life" business is exhausting. I think I preferred it when I just watched TV.
On Wednesday night, my sr associate and I (I call her "ogre" teasingly) went to The Monkey Bar at 54th and Madison to sample some whiskey sours, and then proceeded to a steak house where I ate a 20 oz. steak (yes, I'm disgusting), accompanied by potato fried in goose fat (SO DELICIOUS - If only one didn't have to eat the inside of the potato and could just eat the goose fat fried exterior over and over and over and over, but I digress), spinach with cream and bacon (SO GOOD) and creamy corn. DELICIOUS.
All downed with a bottle of red wine, of course.
We then made our way to Hotel Griffou where we watched beautiful people while we drank politely from our respective cocktails.
I should have called it a night but instead traveled uptown to see Meeter and Abhi's new apartment. So in my drunken state I had to endure major apartment envy. UGH.
On Wednesday night, my sr associate and I (I call her "ogre" teasingly) went to The Monkey Bar at 54th and Madison to sample some whiskey sours, and then proceeded to a steak house where I ate a 20 oz. steak (yes, I'm disgusting), accompanied by potato fried in goose fat (SO DELICIOUS - If only one didn't have to eat the inside of the potato and could just eat the goose fat fried exterior over and over and over and over, but I digress), spinach with cream and bacon (SO GOOD) and creamy corn. DELICIOUS.
All downed with a bottle of red wine, of course.
We then made our way to Hotel Griffou where we watched beautiful people while we drank politely from our respective cocktails.
I should have called it a night but instead traveled uptown to see Meeter and Abhi's new apartment. So in my drunken state I had to endure major apartment envy. UGH.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Just a Regular Tuesday Night
The weather has been absolutely spectacular. So, yesterday, when I found myself in Times Square following a work function that ended around 930pm, I thought to myself, But why not walk down to the West Village and enjoy the night air?
A quick phone call later, Puxoticus and I were marching our way down Ninth Avenue past Chelsea, through the Meatpacking and into the West Village. We were theoretically in search of live music, but really we were obsessing about doors to brownstones and windows of brownstones. And also any restaurants that had soft lighting and brick walls. Of which we found three in a row (including one without a name, we went inside and got the restaurant's card).
We ended up at Employees Only, which has phenomenal, phenomenal cocktails. I had a pisco sour just to remember Peru days and Puxoticus had a fruity something something.
A quick phone call later, Puxoticus and I were marching our way down Ninth Avenue past Chelsea, through the Meatpacking and into the West Village. We were theoretically in search of live music, but really we were obsessing about doors to brownstones and windows of brownstones. And also any restaurants that had soft lighting and brick walls. Of which we found three in a row (including one without a name, we went inside and got the restaurant's card).
We ended up at Employees Only, which has phenomenal, phenomenal cocktails. I had a pisco sour just to remember Peru days and Puxoticus had a fruity something something.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Just a regular Monday night
Well, given my recent proclamations about reclaiming my life in light of the madness that has been the last couple of months at work, I set about meeting Puxoticus for dinner in the West Village. Oh, the West Village, how I love you. I had spotted Tartine on Sunday as I wandered around peeping into people's expensive homes, and had made a mental note to return there. Because (1) French food, (2) very charming, (3) extensive windows which meant you viewed the charming, quaint W. Village neighbourhood in which you were in, and (4) (so it turned out - I didn't know this at the time) BYOB! Which is excellent b/c the $11 Merlot that Puxoticus picked up was absolutely spot on: smooth and velvety.
The food was very good: Puxy and I shared a goat cheese and walnut salad, and then she ate some vegetarian thing (notice how I paid no attention whatsoever to what she ate since it was vegetarian) and I ordered grilled saucisson. The sausage was absolutely delicious. My only complaint was that the plate was loaded with creamy potatoes, and not enough sausage. We followed the meal with a fruit tart. (We specifically wanted lemon tart but they were out so we settled for a raspberry/ blackberry tart).
I recommend this place, not least b/c it is in the heart of the West Village, and wandering around these beautiful homes will make you want to sell your soul to the devil and earn $$$. And that's not such a bad feeling to have from time to time, is it?
The food was very good: Puxy and I shared a goat cheese and walnut salad, and then she ate some vegetarian thing (notice how I paid no attention whatsoever to what she ate since it was vegetarian) and I ordered grilled saucisson. The sausage was absolutely delicious. My only complaint was that the plate was loaded with creamy potatoes, and not enough sausage. We followed the meal with a fruit tart. (We specifically wanted lemon tart but they were out so we settled for a raspberry/ blackberry tart).
I recommend this place, not least b/c it is in the heart of the West Village, and wandering around these beautiful homes will make you want to sell your soul to the devil and earn $$$. And that's not such a bad feeling to have from time to time, is it?
Monday, November 9, 2009
It's been a while
It feels like a lifetime and a half since I last blogged. I need to stop doing the sporadic posting thing and get on with writing REGULARLY.
I'm back in New York. Oh, wait, you didn't know I had gone somewhere? For the last two weeks, I have been in Washington, DC, prepping for and then attending a hearing for one of my cases. The last two weeks have been insane. You know it' s a bad thing when your body gets used to sleeping just 3 hours a night and anything more just seems luxurious and unnecessary! I learnt a lot during the experience -- not all good lessons, but still, lessons, nonetheless.
I'm back in New York. I'm in reassess mode. Well, I tend to over-analyze all the time anyway, but as the year draws to an end, and with this mega case over, I find myself . . . wondering. The usual questions: do I resume going to the gym or accept my present state, (2) do I ask for more work or do I just lay low for a while (I know, this betrays my workaholic nature), (3) do I want to do what I am doing and for how long, (4) where do I want to live, (5) should I invest in the present apartment (rented) and buy some more furniture . . .
Questions, questions.
The goal now is to chill a bit. Take it EASY.
To that end, I went this evening for a long walk, wandering the streets of the West Village, looking at gorgeous brownstones, and peeping through windows for glimpes (jealous ones) into the lifestyles of those who can afford to live in these places. So lovely. Fall is here, certainly, and the weather was fantastic today.
I should have more interesting posts, not least b/c I have concerts and plays coming up. And, yes, I will start reading again. And, hopefully, blogging more.
So, apologies for this mundane post but at least: I AM BACK.
I'm back in New York. Oh, wait, you didn't know I had gone somewhere? For the last two weeks, I have been in Washington, DC, prepping for and then attending a hearing for one of my cases. The last two weeks have been insane. You know it' s a bad thing when your body gets used to sleeping just 3 hours a night and anything more just seems luxurious and unnecessary! I learnt a lot during the experience -- not all good lessons, but still, lessons, nonetheless.
I'm back in New York. I'm in reassess mode. Well, I tend to over-analyze all the time anyway, but as the year draws to an end, and with this mega case over, I find myself . . . wondering. The usual questions: do I resume going to the gym or accept my present state, (2) do I ask for more work or do I just lay low for a while (I know, this betrays my workaholic nature), (3) do I want to do what I am doing and for how long, (4) where do I want to live, (5) should I invest in the present apartment (rented) and buy some more furniture . . .
Questions, questions.
The goal now is to chill a bit. Take it EASY.
To that end, I went this evening for a long walk, wandering the streets of the West Village, looking at gorgeous brownstones, and peeping through windows for glimpes (jealous ones) into the lifestyles of those who can afford to live in these places. So lovely. Fall is here, certainly, and the weather was fantastic today.
I should have more interesting posts, not least b/c I have concerts and plays coming up. And, yes, I will start reading again. And, hopefully, blogging more.
So, apologies for this mundane post but at least: I AM BACK.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Law and Order SVU
After spending the majority of the day (and the day being Saturday) at work, I really needed some time off. So, the siblings (R & P, and R's girlfriend, P2), came over for dinner (take-out, who has time to cook anymore!) and a marathon of Law and Order SVU. Except I got tied up at work until 915pm, but fortunately the siblings are ever entrepreneurial and brought their own set of keys to my apartment, so they were able to let themselves in at the appointed hour and make themselves comfortable in front of my television.
We watched four episodes in total. I'm not the biggest fan of this season. It's just a little too sensationalist for me. I want more gore and crime and less . . . fake drama. Because if you have rape and murder and sordid sex crimes, you have drama a-plenty without having to resort to some crap plot line about the new DA having a thing for Detective Stabler. We don't have time for those sorts of romances.
* * *
It's 230am so I should go to bed. But first, let me link to this article from Slate, which talks about whether cyclists should follow the rules for cars. Let me clear and unequivocal on this point: YES. I've said it before and I will say it again. If you are not in a wheelchair, in a pram, or riding a tricycle (OK fine, or a bicycle but only if you're less than 12 years old - arbitrarily picked age), then you should be ON THE ROAD and not on the pavement and you should be STOPPING AT THE RED LIGHT.
Because otherwise you get in my way as I walk to work. And in case you were wondering, well, see the previous post: I'm not a morning person, and I don't need you in the way.
* * *
I went on a ticket-buying spree today. Two concerts in November and one in December. Which ones, you ask? Well, I've got to keep you on your toes. So keep checking this blog regularly, and you'll find out soon enough.
We watched four episodes in total. I'm not the biggest fan of this season. It's just a little too sensationalist for me. I want more gore and crime and less . . . fake drama. Because if you have rape and murder and sordid sex crimes, you have drama a-plenty without having to resort to some crap plot line about the new DA having a thing for Detective Stabler. We don't have time for those sorts of romances.
* * *
It's 230am so I should go to bed. But first, let me link to this article from Slate, which talks about whether cyclists should follow the rules for cars. Let me clear and unequivocal on this point: YES. I've said it before and I will say it again. If you are not in a wheelchair, in a pram, or riding a tricycle (OK fine, or a bicycle but only if you're less than 12 years old - arbitrarily picked age), then you should be ON THE ROAD and not on the pavement and you should be STOPPING AT THE RED LIGHT.
Because otherwise you get in my way as I walk to work. And in case you were wondering, well, see the previous post: I'm not a morning person, and I don't need you in the way.
* * *
I went on a ticket-buying spree today. Two concerts in November and one in December. Which ones, you ask? Well, I've got to keep you on your toes. So keep checking this blog regularly, and you'll find out soon enough.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Thursday Update
I'm not doing so well with blogging regularly, am I?
I try, I try. Or I don't try enough. Ah, story of my life.
I've been under the weather. Caught a horrific cold/ cough/ sore throat/ fever (I suppose it would have been more succinct to just say flu, I suppose, but that conjures up images nowadays of H1N1 and all that jazz). I'm over the worst of it now, I think, though I am still phlegmatic as hell. Yes, you'll know where I have been if you check the waste paper baskets and find them full of used tissues displaying copious amounts of green and yellow mucus.
And now I have lost my only reader? Or attracted a new teenage fan crowd, quite possibly. But seriously I cannot be the only person who blows his nose and immediately inspects the product. Although perhaps sophisticated and serious bloggers don't blog about such stuff?
Ah, this is all taking a turn for the worse. This is a problem with blogging perhaps -- not enough self-editing? Like right now I could go back and erase all that I have typed and start over again. But instead I'll talk about doing that, all the while leaving the original content for you to read. Instead, dear reader, use your imagination and conjure up a world in which the mucus paragraphs did not exist, as though I had never typed them! There you go, now was that so hard?
I have a problem getting out of bed in the morning. It's not really a problem waking up. That part is fine. But right after that I pop open my laptop, check my e-mail, surf the web for international law news, then regular news, then I read my favourite blogs, check the weather, listen to a song or two on myspace or itunes store, contemplate whether or not to buy a new song, download it, listen to it on repeat a couple of times to get it into my system . . . oh, you get the picture.
Which means I am always late to work.
Bad Caveboy.
I try, I try. Or I don't try enough. Ah, story of my life.
I've been under the weather. Caught a horrific cold/ cough/ sore throat/ fever (I suppose it would have been more succinct to just say flu, I suppose, but that conjures up images nowadays of H1N1 and all that jazz). I'm over the worst of it now, I think, though I am still phlegmatic as hell. Yes, you'll know where I have been if you check the waste paper baskets and find them full of used tissues displaying copious amounts of green and yellow mucus.
And now I have lost my only reader? Or attracted a new teenage fan crowd, quite possibly. But seriously I cannot be the only person who blows his nose and immediately inspects the product. Although perhaps sophisticated and serious bloggers don't blog about such stuff?
Ah, this is all taking a turn for the worse. This is a problem with blogging perhaps -- not enough self-editing? Like right now I could go back and erase all that I have typed and start over again. But instead I'll talk about doing that, all the while leaving the original content for you to read. Instead, dear reader, use your imagination and conjure up a world in which the mucus paragraphs did not exist, as though I had never typed them! There you go, now was that so hard?
I have a problem getting out of bed in the morning. It's not really a problem waking up. That part is fine. But right after that I pop open my laptop, check my e-mail, surf the web for international law news, then regular news, then I read my favourite blogs, check the weather, listen to a song or two on myspace or itunes store, contemplate whether or not to buy a new song, download it, listen to it on repeat a couple of times to get it into my system . . . oh, you get the picture.
Which means I am always late to work.
Bad Caveboy.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Sorry
Yes, yes, I've been away from my computer, so I've not been blogging. My home computer, that is. I've been chained to my work computer, down in Peru. Unfortunately, cookies or some such were disabled on my work computer, and java script editor something or the other likewise did not work. Which meant I could not log on to my blog to, well, blog.
Thus starving you of my wit and entertainment. You poor souls. How have you managed without me?
Very well, it appears (he noted, bitterly).
I'm back in New York. Spent the day hiking about 2 hours away from the city. Was a ton of fun. I would write more, but I'm exhausted. Which leaves you thinking two weeks away and all we got was this lousy blog entry? To which I say, yes.
Thus starving you of my wit and entertainment. You poor souls. How have you managed without me?
Very well, it appears (he noted, bitterly).
I'm back in New York. Spent the day hiking about 2 hours away from the city. Was a ton of fun. I would write more, but I'm exhausted. Which leaves you thinking two weeks away and all we got was this lousy blog entry? To which I say, yes.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Just to let you know
that I am about to go and watch the season premier of Law and Order Special Victims Unit. I tell you this now, at 10:42pm, before I start watching the show because I know that afterwards, circa 1142pm, the last thing I will want to do is get online and tell you how it was. Rather, I will want to crawl into my bed and praise the good Lord above that the season of gore and heinous crimes is upon us again.
I need to read
Dear Readers,
It has crossed my mind that I'm slowly becoming illiterate. I used to read voraciously as a child, then as a college student (it helped, conveniently, that I was an English literature major (oh, in addition to Economics, yes, I wasn't entirely useless in planning for my future)). And now? Well, I barely read, and when I do read, it's about what's happening in New York City so that I can feed my need to be a part of this vibrant! thriving! city. Or it's huffingtonpost.com, or slate.com, or althouse.blogspot.com, or five international law blogs, or the nytimes.com, and occassionally, it's newyorker.com, or vanityfair.com, or the guardian.co.uk, or pslawnet.org (so I can look up non-profit jobs), or un.org/en/employment (so that I can look up UN jobs), or google searches for "international law jobs" so that I can look up international law jobs, whatever the institution might be. I need to read books.
Please hold me accountable if I don't read at least, hmmm, 1 book a month?
(Yes, I'm setting my standards low.)
It has crossed my mind that I'm slowly becoming illiterate. I used to read voraciously as a child, then as a college student (it helped, conveniently, that I was an English literature major (oh, in addition to Economics, yes, I wasn't entirely useless in planning for my future)). And now? Well, I barely read, and when I do read, it's about what's happening in New York City so that I can feed my need to be a part of this vibrant! thriving! city. Or it's huffingtonpost.com, or slate.com, or althouse.blogspot.com, or five international law blogs, or the nytimes.com, and occassionally, it's newyorker.com, or vanityfair.com, or the guardian.co.uk, or pslawnet.org (so I can look up non-profit jobs), or un.org/en/employment (so that I can look up UN jobs), or google searches for "international law jobs" so that I can look up international law jobs, whatever the institution might be. I need to read books.
Please hold me accountable if I don't read at least, hmmm, 1 book a month?
(Yes, I'm setting my standards low.)
Yeah Yeah Yeah
I went to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs perform last night at Radio City Music Hall. What a big venue! And I was way! way! up! To see the Yeah! Yeah Yeahs! The ticket was part of my "I must do New York things while I am in New York." You see, when I was working in Sierra Leone, I used to complain to myself that I missed, oh so much, the culture! the nightlife! the opera! the theatre! the concerts! of New York. But I also knew at the back of my mind that I never ever really took advantage of all that New York had to offer. So, in the last year, it's been consciously on my mind that I must rock the body electric and get my body out to these venues and places.
So, there I was, with my charcoal gray suit, my super white shirt, my red silk tie (which I removed just prior to entering the concert venue and stuffed into the inner pocket of my jacket). Oh, and with my two pockets jammed full and bulging with my (1) work blackberry, (2) personal cell phone, (3) wallets (OK, fine, this was my back pocket, so that makes three bulging pockets), (4) ipod and headphones, (5) keys (with Duane Reade discount card, D'Agastino discount card, and then mailbox key, front door key, building entrance key, and some random key that I think opens my brother's old storage locker in Newark, New Jersey), and (6) my work ID.
Once Puxoticus and I were inside, we made straight for the bar. Novice that she is, I told Pux to just get hard liquor on the rocks b/c it does the job efficiently but doesn't make you feel bloated and/or need to go to the bathroom. But she mumbled something about taste and liking to enjoy what she was drinking. I don't understand those types - when it comes to alcohol, I can be entirely utilitarian.
The concert was great. Well, the first two songs had me wondering whether I had made a big mistake, and should instead have spent the night home with my television. (My TV has yet to fail me. Well, my TV coupled with my DVR have yet to fail me.) But then we hit my favorite songs, and we were on a roll: Soft Shock, Cheated Heart, and, suddenly the music was good! Later, they performed an incredible version of Maps, dramatically done with orchestra-like instruments (violins! beautiful!).
Overall: a very good concert.
So, there I was, with my charcoal gray suit, my super white shirt, my red silk tie (which I removed just prior to entering the concert venue and stuffed into the inner pocket of my jacket). Oh, and with my two pockets jammed full and bulging with my (1) work blackberry, (2) personal cell phone, (3) wallets (OK, fine, this was my back pocket, so that makes three bulging pockets), (4) ipod and headphones, (5) keys (with Duane Reade discount card, D'Agastino discount card, and then mailbox key, front door key, building entrance key, and some random key that I think opens my brother's old storage locker in Newark, New Jersey), and (6) my work ID.
Once Puxoticus and I were inside, we made straight for the bar. Novice that she is, I told Pux to just get hard liquor on the rocks b/c it does the job efficiently but doesn't make you feel bloated and/or need to go to the bathroom. But she mumbled something about taste and liking to enjoy what she was drinking. I don't understand those types - when it comes to alcohol, I can be entirely utilitarian.
The concert was great. Well, the first two songs had me wondering whether I had made a big mistake, and should instead have spent the night home with my television. (My TV has yet to fail me. Well, my TV coupled with my DVR have yet to fail me.) But then we hit my favorite songs, and we were on a roll: Soft Shock, Cheated Heart, and, suddenly the music was good! Later, they performed an incredible version of Maps, dramatically done with orchestra-like instruments (violins! beautiful!).
Overall: a very good concert.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Hamlet starring Jude Law
I went to see a production of Hamlet starring Jude Law this evening. It was three hours and ten minutes long with one intermission. Which, when your day started at 645am with a visit to the gym (look how I make myself seem virtuous and industrious!) means that your eyes are closing circa the beginning of, oh, Acts 1, 2, 3, etc. means that you just want to yell at the stage saying, "To be or not to be/ That is the question," and "Methinks the lady doth protest too much" and "Get a move on it."
Which is probably not the best frame of mind, all things considered.
I didn't love the production. I think there are two big reasons why. First, when I watch Shakespearean plays, I'm acutely aware that I'm not watching something that is supposed to be a representation of what's real in the world as I know it. In other words, I'm watching the play to fall in love with the complexity of emotions, the imagined situation and circumstance, the way with words. But I am well aware that the play is not my life because, well, it's set a long time ago and, more significantly, the actors speak in Shakespearean verse. So it's very hard for me to lose myself in such a production. It's all artificial to me.
Second, the character of Hamlet is hard to execute. This is a guy that is going increasingly mad as the play progresses. And it's hard to depict mad. Rather, it's hard to depict mad in a natural way. I could see Jude Law trying to be mad. I could see him hunching over, I could see him twitching, I could hear him modulating his voice from really loud to really soft, I could see him be physical with characters in a sort of flamboyant, uncontrolled way . . . and all I could think was, oh, this is you depicting the descent into madness. Which did not please me. I wanted to see mad as mad, not what it was like to be mad.
I think Ophelia completely sucked. I mean, I haven't seen a production of Hamlet before, but in my mind, when I read the play in high school, I Imagined Ophelia as a character with great, great emotional range. Not so much this actress.
Overall review: Glad I went because it's good to do New York things when in New York. And, you know, it's good to watch plays about a young man going mad because he thinks that his mother might have had something to do with murdering his father and then God forbid it but she married his father's brother, and then a young lady go mad (eventually killing herself) because her father was killed accidentally by the man she happens to love. It's like, Oh you get me and you know what my life is like.
Which is probably not the best frame of mind, all things considered.
I didn't love the production. I think there are two big reasons why. First, when I watch Shakespearean plays, I'm acutely aware that I'm not watching something that is supposed to be a representation of what's real in the world as I know it. In other words, I'm watching the play to fall in love with the complexity of emotions, the imagined situation and circumstance, the way with words. But I am well aware that the play is not my life because, well, it's set a long time ago and, more significantly, the actors speak in Shakespearean verse. So it's very hard for me to lose myself in such a production. It's all artificial to me.
Second, the character of Hamlet is hard to execute. This is a guy that is going increasingly mad as the play progresses. And it's hard to depict mad. Rather, it's hard to depict mad in a natural way. I could see Jude Law trying to be mad. I could see him hunching over, I could see him twitching, I could hear him modulating his voice from really loud to really soft, I could see him be physical with characters in a sort of flamboyant, uncontrolled way . . . and all I could think was, oh, this is you depicting the descent into madness. Which did not please me. I wanted to see mad as mad, not what it was like to be mad.
I think Ophelia completely sucked. I mean, I haven't seen a production of Hamlet before, but in my mind, when I read the play in high school, I Imagined Ophelia as a character with great, great emotional range. Not so much this actress.
Overall review: Glad I went because it's good to do New York things when in New York. And, you know, it's good to watch plays about a young man going mad because he thinks that his mother might have had something to do with murdering his father and then God forbid it but she married his father's brother, and then a young lady go mad (eventually killing herself) because her father was killed accidentally by the man she happens to love. It's like, Oh you get me and you know what my life is like.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Where have I been?
I know, you have been wondering about my whereabouts, hoping I would return to the blogosphere posting new updates. Or maybe that was just me checking in on my blog everyday to see whether there were any new comments/ commenters asking me to return, and finding none.
I don't hold grudges for that. I know you reader(s) care.
I've been gallavanting, but for work reasons. Went off to Paris where all I did was eat foie gras with bread. I myself am now shaped like a goose specifically fed in a harmful way so that my liver will explode imminently, and you can all spread my innards across substantially large pieces of bread and eat me.
I tried to balance this foie gras binging with some running but the architecture of Paris and my bum legs kept distracting me. How will I ever compete in an Olympic distance triathlon if I can't run more than 10 steps without getting shin splints? I am going to have to try mystic eastern therapies I think since my orthopedic running shoes -- comfortable as they are (and dorky looking as they are) -- are simply not cutting it.
Anyway, I'm back in New York. It's going to be a fun week, people: work, work, work, sprinkled with Hamlet (starring Jude Law) and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
I don't hold grudges for that. I know you reader(s) care.
I've been gallavanting, but for work reasons. Went off to Paris where all I did was eat foie gras with bread. I myself am now shaped like a goose specifically fed in a harmful way so that my liver will explode imminently, and you can all spread my innards across substantially large pieces of bread and eat me.
I tried to balance this foie gras binging with some running but the architecture of Paris and my bum legs kept distracting me. How will I ever compete in an Olympic distance triathlon if I can't run more than 10 steps without getting shin splints? I am going to have to try mystic eastern therapies I think since my orthopedic running shoes -- comfortable as they are (and dorky looking as they are) -- are simply not cutting it.
Anyway, I'm back in New York. It's going to be a fun week, people: work, work, work, sprinkled with Hamlet (starring Jude Law) and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
I hate the ending of The Devil Wears Prada
The Shakinator and I watched the last 20 minutes of The Devil Wears Prada, which was in my DVR from years gone by. I've said it before (perhaps not on this blog) and I will say it again and again and again: I HATE THE ENDING OF THIS MOVIE. You see, I think that it's fantastic that Meryl Streep is tough and strong and reviled by everyone. And while it's great that Andy gives up her job to go and follow her dreams (sure, go do whatever it is that you want to do in life and then be good at it, your love for it being the passion that sustains you during the wee hours of the morning when you are chained to your desk, digging through the garbage can for dinner because the leftovers that were not appetizing at 830pm when you finished your dinner are really, really ambrosia when it's 4am) but for the love of God and his Holy Word, do not go back to the loser boyfriend.
Good bye Sasha Dobson
Oh, and lest I be chastized by my throng of readers for not approaching Sasha Dobson to hit on her, well, let's say that the Shakster introduced us, I said hello, how are you, I want you to have my baby and live with me forever, but she declined the offer. I was taken aback.
OK maybe I didn't say those things and she just read it from my face.
OK maybe I didn't say those things and she just read it from my face.
Hello Sasha Dobson
Topping up the mad week known as The Week When The Shakinator Came to New York, I had one of my few (perhaps only?) New York moments. The Shakster, the Poopster and I went to The Living Room to listen to some bluegrass music. We really liked only one song, "The Lonesome Road," but between the live music feeling, the drunk couple next to us groping each other,* providing endless entertainment, and several glasses of whiskey, things were feeling pretty nice. A good night out.
We were going to call it a night at 1130pm after the band ("The Five Deadly Venoms" - they were not deadly. They should see Kill Bill 1 and 2 and then they would know the meaning of the words "deadly" and "venom.") Anyway, there we were about to get up when suddenly we noticed the crew assembling the stage, tuning the piano, dragging amplifiers on to the stage, and basically making quite the formal ruckus. Then we heard the words, "Norah Jones is going to perform, it's going to be an impromptu performance," and we thought Holy Whatever it is that Robin says to Batman, we should stay and watch this.
Lo and behold: a few minutes later, Norah Jones sauntered on the stage, and performed new songs not yet released. She performed for like an hour! And we had front and center seats just because we were among the three winners who showed up for the bluegrass set before.
Oh, and if you're wondering about the title -- she's Norah's back up singer/ guitar player, and she's got far more soul.
Oh, and the reason I liked the groping couple was that they were kind of elderly but completely in love with each other, making out and stuff, and for some reason I found it touching that people whose bodies have fallen apart by the wayside can still love each other.
We were going to call it a night at 1130pm after the band ("The Five Deadly Venoms" - they were not deadly. They should see Kill Bill 1 and 2 and then they would know the meaning of the words "deadly" and "venom.") Anyway, there we were about to get up when suddenly we noticed the crew assembling the stage, tuning the piano, dragging amplifiers on to the stage, and basically making quite the formal ruckus. Then we heard the words, "Norah Jones is going to perform, it's going to be an impromptu performance," and we thought Holy Whatever it is that Robin says to Batman, we should stay and watch this.
Lo and behold: a few minutes later, Norah Jones sauntered on the stage, and performed new songs not yet released. She performed for like an hour! And we had front and center seats just because we were among the three winners who showed up for the bluegrass set before.
Oh, and if you're wondering about the title -- she's Norah's back up singer/ guitar player, and she's got far more soul.
Oh, and the reason I liked the groping couple was that they were kind of elderly but completely in love with each other, making out and stuff, and for some reason I found it touching that people whose bodies have fallen apart by the wayside can still love each other.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Times flies
and so goes by the wayside the plan for blogging on a daily basis. Sometimes, you get caught up . . . doing the stuff you want to blog about, which displaces the blogging. Which, I suppose, is better than blogging but not having the time to do the stuff you want to blog about, because, well, what would you blog about?
Ah, and so it goes.
So should I recap the week? Well, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday involved late nights at work. The big focus was what should I eat at my desk? Ever the Indian, I turned to comfort food and ordered from Bukhara Grill. I love their chicken kebabs. They are delicious. They are marinated in spices, coriander and mint, and they make me want to eat, eat, eat. I try to tell myself it's OK to eat a lot because it's all protein. And so the theory goes . . .
The Shakster is coming to stay with me tonight. How very exciting. I am sure we will drink red wine, listen to Tina Turner and eat a lot. It will be like being in Sierra Leone again, but with electricity and easy access to public transport.
Ah, and so it goes.
So should I recap the week? Well, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday involved late nights at work. The big focus was what should I eat at my desk? Ever the Indian, I turned to comfort food and ordered from Bukhara Grill. I love their chicken kebabs. They are delicious. They are marinated in spices, coriander and mint, and they make me want to eat, eat, eat. I try to tell myself it's OK to eat a lot because it's all protein. And so the theory goes . . .
The Shakster is coming to stay with me tonight. How very exciting. I am sure we will drink red wine, listen to Tina Turner and eat a lot. It will be like being in Sierra Leone again, but with electricity and easy access to public transport.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Night out in Brooklyn
I have decided to get out a bit more, in other words, go out further and farther. So last night, I went off with McPanj to try Canaille in Brooklyn. Well, a D train ride later to Atlantic Avenue, a 10-minute walk down the wrong direction, a 10-minute about-face, a further 10-minutes in the right direction, and lo and behold I found myself in a lovely, charming restaurant. Where a patient McPanj had waited for me.
We shared a calamari salad, which was delightfully fresh, and then we both ordered the lobster roll. I think we felt slightly cheated - McPanj because she found the lobster just a little too salty, and me because - well, feeling cheated is my grouchy schtick. It's my outlook for the world. No, no - it's because even though I wolfed down my lobster roll and thoroughly enjoyed it, I thought there just wasn't enough. Sure, there was a plate of frites on the side, delicious and all, but, well, I wanted more lobster and a larger roll.
But, really, a minor complaint because the place truly was charming. We shared the creme brulee, which I washed down with some calvados (ah, nothing like warming your pipes and your stomach with some brandy), and McPanj experimented with a "bio-dynamic" dessert wine from the Rhone Valley. Apparently bio-dynamic is the new organic but way cooler.
So, let's be bio-dynamic.
We shared a calamari salad, which was delightfully fresh, and then we both ordered the lobster roll. I think we felt slightly cheated - McPanj because she found the lobster just a little too salty, and me because - well, feeling cheated is my grouchy schtick. It's my outlook for the world. No, no - it's because even though I wolfed down my lobster roll and thoroughly enjoyed it, I thought there just wasn't enough. Sure, there was a plate of frites on the side, delicious and all, but, well, I wanted more lobster and a larger roll.
But, really, a minor complaint because the place truly was charming. We shared the creme brulee, which I washed down with some calvados (ah, nothing like warming your pipes and your stomach with some brandy), and McPanj experimented with a "bio-dynamic" dessert wine from the Rhone Valley. Apparently bio-dynamic is the new organic but way cooler.
So, let's be bio-dynamic.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Julie and Julia
I saw Julie and Julia with Puxy last night. OK movie -- it was long! We left the theatre at 1am and it was raining.
There was absolutely no chemistry whatsoever between Julie and her husband. And when he left her, I didn't care. And when he returned to her, I didn't particularly care.
On the other hand, there was great chemistry between Julia and her husband. They seemed to love each other, not just in a I'm in my middle age and I've got you with me for my winter years, but also in a passionate, romantic way. (Although I was a bit disappointed that they made a point of putting out both the bedside lamps before doing their deed together. After all, a little bit of light never hurt anyone. Or anything.)
Mostly, I liked Julia's zest for life. I saw her smelling some green herbs (let's call them mint?) and thought, I should go through life sniffing things. Of course, this morning when I walked back from the gym and saw a huge pile of dog poop on the sidewalk (so big that I wondered whether it was human excrement) I was grateful for my ability to turn all of my senses inwards.
There was absolutely no chemistry whatsoever between Julie and her husband. And when he left her, I didn't care. And when he returned to her, I didn't particularly care.
On the other hand, there was great chemistry between Julia and her husband. They seemed to love each other, not just in a I'm in my middle age and I've got you with me for my winter years, but also in a passionate, romantic way. (Although I was a bit disappointed that they made a point of putting out both the bedside lamps before doing their deed together. After all, a little bit of light never hurt anyone. Or anything.)
Mostly, I liked Julia's zest for life. I saw her smelling some green herbs (let's call them mint?) and thought, I should go through life sniffing things. Of course, this morning when I walked back from the gym and saw a huge pile of dog poop on the sidewalk (so big that I wondered whether it was human excrement) I was grateful for my ability to turn all of my senses inwards.
Friday, August 21, 2009
And so it is
OK, the pressure has mounted. It's 3:02am as I type this and you're wondering, well, where's that daily post that you promised us about your uplifting life? And this on top of inihtar's comment that I should stop blogging about blogging and just blog (whatever that means!).
So, the day was largely uneventful. Work was work was work. And then I came home. And instead of going to the gym, I thought that the best thing would be to open the freezer and see what ice-cream I had inside it. Which was an exciting adventure because two weeks ago I had a party and a friend bought a ton of different ice-creams as a present. But, to my chagrin, I realized that I had finished the rasberry sorbet stick with vanilla inside last week, and was left with a variety of chocolate flavours. Which normally would have been fantastic . . . but I was craving that rasberry sorbet with vanilla.
The day picked up. I went to see Okrafor and gang for drinks. I told her about how my plant is guarding my apartment/ opening it up for robbers and thieves. You see, the plant, a gift, is shedding leaves like there is no tomorrow. So, finally, I gave in and said, listen you needy child, I will move you to the windowsill, open the window so that you get (1) air, (2) light, and (3) I will give you extra water. In return, you will grow and beautiful. However, the plant continues to shed. My apartment currently smells like a plant carcass.
I don't think I can have kids. What if they don't grow in the way that I expect?
Thoughts for another day.
So, the day was largely uneventful. Work was work was work. And then I came home. And instead of going to the gym, I thought that the best thing would be to open the freezer and see what ice-cream I had inside it. Which was an exciting adventure because two weeks ago I had a party and a friend bought a ton of different ice-creams as a present. But, to my chagrin, I realized that I had finished the rasberry sorbet stick with vanilla inside last week, and was left with a variety of chocolate flavours. Which normally would have been fantastic . . . but I was craving that rasberry sorbet with vanilla.
The day picked up. I went to see Okrafor and gang for drinks. I told her about how my plant is guarding my apartment/ opening it up for robbers and thieves. You see, the plant, a gift, is shedding leaves like there is no tomorrow. So, finally, I gave in and said, listen you needy child, I will move you to the windowsill, open the window so that you get (1) air, (2) light, and (3) I will give you extra water. In return, you will grow and beautiful. However, the plant continues to shed. My apartment currently smells like a plant carcass.
I don't think I can have kids. What if they don't grow in the way that I expect?
Thoughts for another day.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
The countdown begins
One of the reasons I thought about blogging was because, well, I'm going to turn 30 on July 9, 2010. And I thought to myself, I should document the last year of my 20s to ensure that I live life to the fullest and that I do something potentially interesting and/or challenging and/or meaningful and/or inspiring and/or [insert adjective that is positive] every single day. And then I will tell the world (meaning you, my (single?) dear reader) about this. And this blog will hold me accountable to it all: I will feel the need to live, and then to record the details of my living/life in narrative form. And so it goes . . .
Except I'm about a month and a little more late to the party, which was supposed to start on July 9, 2009. But - whatever! The cliche goes "better late than never" for a reason.
Which I suppose means that I should make today's post substantive. I could talk about how I went to the gym for the first time in 2.5 weeks and listened to "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon on repeat while I ran/ walked/ huffed/ puffed/ caught my breath/ sweated like a pig on the treadmill. But somehow I feel like that's a personal narrative that no one really needs to know about.
So, good night!
Except I'm about a month and a little more late to the party, which was supposed to start on July 9, 2009. But - whatever! The cliche goes "better late than never" for a reason.
Which I suppose means that I should make today's post substantive. I could talk about how I went to the gym for the first time in 2.5 weeks and listened to "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon on repeat while I ran/ walked/ huffed/ puffed/ caught my breath/ sweated like a pig on the treadmill. But somehow I feel like that's a personal narrative that no one really needs to know about.
So, good night!
So I have decided to blog
I have thought long and hard about whether or not to blog. On the one hand, great venue for (supposedly) creative thoughts! On the other hand, must censor myself to ensure I give nothing away so that, oh, I don't know, I preserve the record for whatever it is that I want to do with the rest of my life.
And what is that?
(Obviously be successful at my present job. Ah, see, the censorship begins already.)
And so it is . . .
I throw caution to the wind. Wind, catch caution!
And what is that?
(Obviously be successful at my present job. Ah, see, the censorship begins already.)
And so it is . . .
I throw caution to the wind. Wind, catch caution!
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