sabato 27 ottobre 2012
lunedì 15 ottobre 2012
lunedì 8 ottobre 2012
Bad writing from the last issue of the American version of La Cuciana Italiana that we are going to pay for (for a while at least)
The first five sentences from "the lighter side of red" by Anthony Giglio are so bad that I want to memorize them so that I can recite them at dinner parties and at bus stops.
"I'll never forget the first time I tried a rosé wine that wasn't overtly sweet and one-dimensional. I was at a bar in Nice, France, dining al fresco, facing the see, and the beautiful jeune fille taking our order suggested we try one. My buddies and I (we were in college at the time) reacted like most guys do when offered pink wine when not with their girlfriends: "Non, merci." But she was beautiful and persuasive, and we were thirsty and interested, so we let her pour us glasses of the salmon-colored wine, and then toasted her excellent recommendation."
I can't keep from obsessively reading this passage, laughing all the while. To me, it's a mix of impossible things that just make the whole scene absurd. True, I never traveled with college buddies to Europe. After college, I moved in with my boyfriend in Iowa City and worked on an herb farm that first summer. But from what I gather from my high school friends who did do the whole Euro-pass summer thing, there wasn't much dining al fresco facing the sea, being served wine by a beautiful "jeune fille". I heard it was more like nutella and baguettes, sitting on a sea wall...wondering how long you really can go before those pants absolutely must be washed.
But now I'm curious what year it was that this wine pro and his buddies, (they were in college at the time) "reacted like most guys do when offered pink wine when not with their girlfriends." And what college DID they hail from? What college so beautifully prepared them to deflect pink wine offers when in the presence of other straight dudes? In what college was that a frequent topic of conversation? In what college did they learn precisely when to abandon their fear of a sausage party with pink wine because the person doing the offering is so hot that it's worth the risk of looking like a group of queers? That's one fine college.
The funny thing is that the author is on Facebook...and so all I need to do is "Like" him, so I can start getting some answers...
If you're really were "at a bar in Nice, dining al fresco, facing the sea" then why not play up the fact that you were embodying the spirit of metro-sexuality before being, or not being, metro-sexual was even a thing? Why not bask in your near-native instinct to publicly deflect offers for back waxing and eyebrow shaping well before such services were routinely marketed to you and your straight college buddies who once dined "al fresco, facing the sea"? Men who only drank pink wine in the presence of other men, without their girlfriends, when dreaming of jerking off to the question of whether French women really did invent French kissing.
"I'll never forget the first time I tried a rosé wine that wasn't overtly sweet and one-dimensional. I was at a bar in Nice, France, dining al fresco, facing the see, and the beautiful jeune fille taking our order suggested we try one. My buddies and I (we were in college at the time) reacted like most guys do when offered pink wine when not with their girlfriends: "Non, merci." But she was beautiful and persuasive, and we were thirsty and interested, so we let her pour us glasses of the salmon-colored wine, and then toasted her excellent recommendation."
I can't keep from obsessively reading this passage, laughing all the while. To me, it's a mix of impossible things that just make the whole scene absurd. True, I never traveled with college buddies to Europe. After college, I moved in with my boyfriend in Iowa City and worked on an herb farm that first summer. But from what I gather from my high school friends who did do the whole Euro-pass summer thing, there wasn't much dining al fresco facing the sea, being served wine by a beautiful "jeune fille". I heard it was more like nutella and baguettes, sitting on a sea wall...wondering how long you really can go before those pants absolutely must be washed.
But now I'm curious what year it was that this wine pro and his buddies, (they were in college at the time) "reacted like most guys do when offered pink wine when not with their girlfriends." And what college DID they hail from? What college so beautifully prepared them to deflect pink wine offers when in the presence of other straight dudes? In what college was that a frequent topic of conversation? In what college did they learn precisely when to abandon their fear of a sausage party with pink wine because the person doing the offering is so hot that it's worth the risk of looking like a group of queers? That's one fine college.
The funny thing is that the author is on Facebook...and so all I need to do is "Like" him, so I can start getting some answers...
If you're really were "at a bar in Nice, dining al fresco, facing the sea" then why not play up the fact that you were embodying the spirit of metro-sexuality before being, or not being, metro-sexual was even a thing? Why not bask in your near-native instinct to publicly deflect offers for back waxing and eyebrow shaping well before such services were routinely marketed to you and your straight college buddies who once dined "al fresco, facing the sea"? Men who only drank pink wine in the presence of other men, without their girlfriends, when dreaming of jerking off to the question of whether French women really did invent French kissing.
sabato 6 ottobre 2012
venerdì 5 ottobre 2012
sabato 29 settembre 2012
Water in San Diego
Groksurf blog
I heard about this at Voice of San Diego's Politifest. At first glace, it looks like a great resource. We do live in a desert afterall.
I heard about this at Voice of San Diego's Politifest. At first glace, it looks like a great resource. We do live in a desert afterall.
venerdì 28 settembre 2012
lunedì 24 settembre 2012
domenica 23 settembre 2012
venerdì 21 settembre 2012
mercoledì 19 settembre 2012
martedì 18 settembre 2012
Dental ice cream
Eating a big bowl of ice cream after two hours at the dentist, three old fillings removed, two permanent fillings installed, and one temporary filling installed. Apparently, they put a "medical liner" on top of what is left of my bottom right molar. It sounds like that tooth is incontenent. But instead, it needs to recalcify before they put in the permanent filling. Home after the dentist...that means ice cream for dinner. Second bite = chunk of amalgam located and removed. See
lower dark element on paper napkin...paper napkin = tree death :(. Which I'm much more sensitive too after vacay in the Canadian Rockies.
lower dark element on paper napkin...paper napkin = tree death :(. Which I'm much more sensitive too after vacay in the Canadian Rockies.
Location:Bayside Walk,San Diego,United States
mercoledì 12 settembre 2012
martedì 11 settembre 2012
Violet on the office
It's all about the right light for this plant...and the wrong light for this photo.
lunedì 10 settembre 2012
venerdì 7 settembre 2012
martedì 4 settembre 2012
Vodkass
i guys! I was just going to post this on Facebook but I thought I'd be old school about it:
I'm on the bus right now. A homeless woman wearing pink Croc flip flops just spilled a fast-food cup of punch and vodka on my left arm, leg and backpack.
Thankfully she missed my phone...but maybe the vodka would have sterilized this phone...which I don't think I have actually ever washed. I'm just waiting for the New York Times story about smart phones w/ MRSA and salmonella.
But I digress. I smell like an alcoholic...coming home late from work smelling of booze. Can I bum a smoke?
While I'm typing there is a nice guy in the back of the bus with vodka on his shoe telling person after person not to sit down in the spill zone. "don't sit there. Someone just spilled vodka all over the seat", he says. I feel like I should help out with the warnings, but I'm just really not into hyper-local public service announcements right now. And what happens when he exits the bus? Will someone w/out vodka on their shoe step up? Or will they let someone contract vodka ass?
I guess I will step up if he gets off before I do. No one deserves preventable vodkass.
Helpful dude just left. I'm on stink-saving duty for a few stops.
At least this didn't happen on my way to work.
Sent from mobile phone
venerdì 31 agosto 2012
David Rakoff / Fresh Air interview / to listen to
I need to listen to this Fresh Air interview w/ Rakoff...and I'll check back with my reactions.
http://www.npr.org/2012/08/10/158567391/david-rakoff-there-is-no-answer-as-to-why-me
PS: I still can't stop listening to the David Rakoff tribute show on TAL
lunedì 27 agosto 2012
David Rakoff memorial
I can't stop listening to this beautiful This American Life Tribute to David Rakoff
http://www.thisamericanlife.org/contributors/david-rakoff
Sent from mobile phone - Mobile Post
Sent from mobile phone - Mobile Post
exactly...
Drugs, Sweat and Fear
By DIANA SPECHLER good online essay from the New York Times "Opinionator" section.domenica 26 agosto 2012
martedì 21 agosto 2012
sabato 18 agosto 2012
body surf leg cramp
Last evening, after work, I put on my wetsuit (right-side out this time) and jumped in the ocean. The water was colder and the waves were bigger than I expected. Lots of dudes were body surfing last night, including a couple of nice guys who were happy to chat a bit.
This week, I've been happy swimming in the surf, dodging waves by ducking under them, and doing my best to embrace my inner otter (nature-show definition). But last night, I got back into the game of trying to actually body surf...ride the waves.
The second or third big wave I caught came with a surprise. My right calf muscle went into spasm just as I caught the crest of the wave and felt the power of the ocean pick me up and carry me towards shore. I didn't have much use for my calf at the second, but soon I found myself in the surf, swimming back to the sand with my right leg extended and non-responsive due to spasm. This the kind of spasm I usually get in the middle of the night, and maybe once during a yoga class. I'm just glad it didn't happen when the waves were bigger, or the waves were rolling in at a higher frequency.
I was having such a good time prior to the calf cramp, that I regrouped in the shallow froth and massaged my calf through the wetstuit until it released enough for me to get back out in the waves.
This week, I've been happy swimming in the surf, dodging waves by ducking under them, and doing my best to embrace my inner otter (nature-show definition). But last night, I got back into the game of trying to actually body surf...ride the waves.
The second or third big wave I caught came with a surprise. My right calf muscle went into spasm just as I caught the crest of the wave and felt the power of the ocean pick me up and carry me towards shore. I didn't have much use for my calf at the second, but soon I found myself in the surf, swimming back to the sand with my right leg extended and non-responsive due to spasm. This the kind of spasm I usually get in the middle of the night, and maybe once during a yoga class. I'm just glad it didn't happen when the waves were bigger, or the waves were rolling in at a higher frequency.
I was having such a good time prior to the calf cramp, that I regrouped in the shallow froth and massaged my calf through the wetstuit until it released enough for me to get back out in the waves.
martedì 14 agosto 2012
inside-out wetsuit
today, I celebrated an important first: it was the first time I went outside wearing my wet suit inside out. I only realized it when I couldn't get it unzipped when I was done swimming in the ocean. good thing italian bf was there to help me...and I was like...yeah, I don't know what's going on with this zipper...but there is no way I put my wetsuit on inside out...except I did.
No biggie really, it still worked as a wetsuit...just not as tight around the neck. But with 70-degree water, it's okay if a little extra water leaks in.
And then tonight for dinner, I tried to finish making celery-root soup...it was the second time I ever made it. the first time, it worked out well...but this time, it was only edible after adding 4 oz of quark, milk, nutmeg, salt, pepper, sugar and then at the table, a ton of bread. And then it was only kind of edible. The culprit? the celery root was WAY TOO STRONG. I got it at the pacific beach farmer's market two saturdays ago. Sometimes you really do want lame industrial veggies...or I could have used 1/5 of the root.
So yeah...that pretty much sums it up: inside-out wetsuit and really bad celery-root soup.
No biggie really, it still worked as a wetsuit...just not as tight around the neck. But with 70-degree water, it's okay if a little extra water leaks in.
And then tonight for dinner, I tried to finish making celery-root soup...it was the second time I ever made it. the first time, it worked out well...but this time, it was only edible after adding 4 oz of quark, milk, nutmeg, salt, pepper, sugar and then at the table, a ton of bread. And then it was only kind of edible. The culprit? the celery root was WAY TOO STRONG. I got it at the pacific beach farmer's market two saturdays ago. Sometimes you really do want lame industrial veggies...or I could have used 1/5 of the root.
So yeah...that pretty much sums it up: inside-out wetsuit and really bad celery-root soup.
mercoledì 8 agosto 2012
I've Missed Me
I've missed me. I've missed pounding thoughts out now and then on here. We'll see where this takes me.
Right now, I've been thinking a lot about yoga, and my yoga practice, and what it means to have a regular practice.
Right now, I've been thinking a lot about yoga, and my yoga practice, and what it means to have a regular practice.
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