Not that we needed any, but more proof that the typical New Yorker reader is overeducated:
"The Hawaiian island of O'ahu gracefully blends the cultural influences of Polynesia with the latest in sybaritic indulgences."
-- From an ad hawking "Wonderland O'ahu"
Last night the fabulous Jen Abellera and I went out for Hawaiian food at Hukilau in SF. Yummy ahi poke, good combo plate of Korean short ribs and grilled Mahi-mahi (with two scoops rice and mac salad, of course), and true to form, a mixed alcoholic punch made from POG (passion-orange-guava). I passed on the Spam musubi, which I don't think I'll ever eat, no matter what. No mochi or haupia for dessert though. Frankly, it was better than any Hawaiian food I've had in Hawaii, must admit.
From the random corners of my brain: if I had a Hispanic name, I'd want it to be Fabiola.
I just got back from the eye doctor and my pupils are so dialated that there's scarcely any blue left, just pools of black. I look strange. And everything is cloudy, like the San Francisco fog has invaded my mind, so that's all for now. Heh.
Deneb and I caught DJ Krush Thursday night at the DNA lounge here in SF. I was skeptical about going to see a dj show seeing as, well, all they do is just hang out behind some turntables, right? Seemed kinda dull to me. Wrong! We arguably had the best spot in the place, in the balcony overlooking his equipment so we watched him work his magic during the set. It rocked. For being an internationally known and generally kick-ass dj, he worked with a small case of vinyl (with a United Airlines baggage tag on the handle -- trip out to have picked up his baggage at SFO by mistake!), two turntables and a older looking sampler/fader/thingamajiggy (I am so not up on the terminology). Pretty modest, compared to some of the setups I've seen at house parties in SF. Maybe like most things, the bigger and more sophisticated the equipment you buy, the more you are overcompensating for a lack of talent? (Like the inverse relationship to monster trucks and penis size.)
While it's not the most groovy and danceable music on the planet, watching him work was hypnotizing. He's a small Japanese guy, kind of scrawny, but very quick and super precise. I'd never really considered dj-ing to be much of an art, but he swayed me, particularly as he was able to reproduce some of the studio tracks on his albums near identically, as far as I could tell. The audience was fun to watch, a mix of SOMA e-tards and Japanese groupies and the occasional tripper. From our vantage point in the balcony, the audience below looked like a hurricane, with a swarm of people circling around Krush, who was centered in the eye of the mass. Surprisingly, when we left at 12:30 (worknight, gar!), SOMA was absolutely packed. Since when did it become the place to be again? Maybe now that the parking is better?
One fun detail -- on the table behind him, DJ Krush had a pack of cigarettes deliberately laid out, with one cigarette exactly half-way withdrawn and a lighter placed precisely laid out on top. Since you can't smoke in SF bars, it laid there like it was prepared for him to grab the second he finished the show, to run outside and get a quick fix.
I'll have you all know that I have helped defend digital freedom -- here's a thank you for the volunteer work I just did for the Electronic Frontier Foundation in seeking exemptions for the Digital Millenium Copyright Act. If we defeat region coding on DVD players or prohibit media companies from putting unskippable advertising on your DVDs, well, blow me a kiss. ;)
It is so NOT FAIR that Leanne already bought the best shirt at Errorwear.com. You can guess which one that is. Sigh.
If everyone does it, it's got to be fun, right? That's what I decided to believe about snowboarding. For someone who likes to go slow, lay in the sun, and generally have nothing to do with the cold, this was a leap of faith. But having the best personal instruction on the planet from a very cute boy who happens to be my boyfriend who promised it would all be worth it made it easy to believe. And hey, sports fans, he was right. A day of misery where I wanted to smash the board against a tree several times and fell every single time I got off the chair lift was quickly followed by a day of sort-of-goodness where I magically made it off the stupid lift, only fell down 65% of the time, and even made it all the way down the mountain (bye-bye bunny slope).
As Josh, my carpool buddy put it on the ride to work today, "There's something so awesome about being in such an alien environment where you're having fun." Or something like that. He's right, though; so many times over the weekend as I was sitting on my ass covered in snow I paused in amazement to register that, yes, I was sitting on the snowy ground in near freezing temperatures, snow sprinkling my hot boarding gear (looking the part is like, half the battle, right?), and it was neat. You're not wet, you're not even that cold -- I imagine it's not unlike scuba diving, when you stand on the bottom of the ocean and look up towards the surface and think, damn, I'm at the bottom of the damn ocean. Except you're on the exact opposite of that -- a tall, snow-drenched mountain.
On the drive home, I read a New Yorker story about a woman who decided to swim to Antarctica, where the water is at freezing and filled with fun things like ice that will cut you like shattered glass and seals that rip penguins out of their skin. I can only imagine that she is also inspired by the same desire to immerse herself in the most alien of environments and see what happens (although she wins this contest -- she only wore a swimsuit during her feat, not even a wetsuit). How far do you keep pushing? Would I take a ride on the Space Shuttle?
Sometimes you just don't feel like writing. That time is now. However, I will be snowboarding for the first time in, oh, like 13 years this weekend, so maybe I'll have something to say after that. Plus, it seemed like on every page of the Chronicle today the Bush administration was somehow screwing us all over, and that's making me grumpy. Bastards.
Busy lately, lots of chaos. I feel like a work machine. Watch me produce! Madness!
Went to the Alternative Press Expo this past weekend to hang with my good Seattle friends Eric and Rhea. Saw lots of good folks from the outer edges producing cool stuff. In fact, this APE seemed bigger than any I've been to in the past 5 years; overwhelming, in fact. But cool! Good to see the kids of the world are still producing zines like mad.
I wanted to say something sarcastic about this thinly veiled site by the beef industry to lure young girls to loving the cow, except I'm the kid who once received an entire side of prime rib for her birthday. At buffets, I used to go back 5 or 6 times for rare roast beef (say that one fast). So, uh, yeah. It's still funny.