Your shoes are shiny.

Maybe Cupid never had this in mind...

2010-02-10T21:17:00.000-08:00

Before I launch into what I'm sure some will interpret as a tirade, I'd like to start off with a little bit of pleasantry...in the wonderment sense. I saw a homeless man today with scraggly, unkempt, and longish brown and grayish hair waving in the wind. His threads were dark and soiled. He stomped about in a peculiar glee. And in his hand he had two long stemmed crimson roses. They were brilliantly crimson. It was an enchanting sight...something so disparate in foundation. To see someone so dingy and to see such natural beauty associated with him was striking. I had to do a double take. If only more things could overwhelm my attention like that with greater frequency.

Valentine's Day. Now some of you may think that I am a bitter and morose individual because I really don't understand the stodgy nature in which our society celebrates 'love.' Flowers are nice. Chocolates? Sure, I like them, I guess. But when did these things become how people show others that they love them? You go out and dine at a restaurant, inevitably serving some dank 4-course pre-fixe meal that everyone has to order. The restaurant is able to justify inflating their prices and what you and your ravishing date get is an insipid and underwhelming meal for double what it really should cost. Valentine's Day is actually quite possibly the worst day in the entire calendar year to go out and eat. You will inevitably be disappointed. And if you aren't, chances are that you don't have a very good sense of taste or idea what being served well is like. Thanks, but I'll pass on the ho hum. I'll be the guy trying to do something with my hands or something that involves atypical strategy...whimsy if you will. Can't promise that it will be pretty or taste good. In fact, it could be disastrous. But I will have effectively utilized effort. You know, the real kind.

And perhaps you say, 'Good luck finding a girl that will adopt that line of thinking.' I would answer that you're absolutely right. I'm not going to find that many girls that share my discernment. But remember, I look for extraordinary. I pass on the vanilla. And I know that she's out there.

A little bit of creativity, folks. I know that you have some.

It's Thanksgiving. Thanks.

2009-11-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

While I haven't written in quite a while, I figured that with some extra time on my hands and it being Thanksgiving, I'd publish a snippet of what I'm grateful for.

What I'm thankful for:

Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister in-law, and the rest of my extended family. And all my friends of course.

Bartleby and Pearl.

Good Food. Good Beer. Good Wine. Good Spirits.

My friend Jason...but mostly his wife, Myvan.

Gingham.

Miyizaki Beef.

Tim Lincecum.

Shu Uemura.

Favorite Dancing Company.

Sencha.

Muni (crazy, huh?).

Cylons.

Wool Socks.

Pork Belly.

Insatiable Appetites.

Pizza.

Kathy Lipscomb.

Vintage Boots.

Completely losing track of time while making memories.

Warm Smiles.

Mixology.

New Faces.

Familiar Faces.

Tailoring.

And lastly, but no less significantly, hair.

(Yes, I'm a vain and shallow person. A material girl...in a material world. Happy Thanksgiving...I hope your list of what you're thankful for is as awesome as mine.)

Starbucks is good for something other than burnt-ass coffee.

2009-09-08T23:15:00.000-07:00

It's also good for kodak moments, funny enough. Sitting on the 19 tonight, trying to squiggle my way home, I noticed a Causasian girl, probably around 25 years old, step her way onto the bus accompanied with an African American girl, probably around the age of 10. They were each carrying frappucinos from Starbucks. They proceeded to take a seat and enjoy their beverages apparently induced with a healthy dose of genuine and raw banter. Laughter was abound. And you could see with each upward glance from the younger girl, with stars in her eyes, that she was truly beholden with the fact that this older girl, thought her cool enough to hang with her. Almost like, 'Thank you, for thinking enough, and being with me. I love you.'

It was beautiful (honestly, no sarcasm associated...I swear).

Thank you Starbucks...you make it convenient for folks to share moments. I forgive you, temporarily, for your disgusting coffee.

Chuck? Creepy? No.....

2009-08-26T20:25:00.000-07:00

Chuck got to the bus stop with three minutes to spare today, according to his iphone at least. It had been a long day and he was anxious to get home and crack the top off a beer while allowing his body to be paralyzed on the couch. Upon reaching the stop, he discovered an attractive tall blond girl waiting there with the same intent as he. But there was an appearance about this girl that was reminiscent of someone he thought he had met in the last month. Was it her? He couldn't really get a direct gaze at her. Not without getting caught at least. So he did what any right-minded person would do. Once boarding the bus, he situated himself at the opposite end of the bus and rotated his head so that his line of sight would catch her position at each pendulum. But she noticed. And she turned around to avoid Chuck's apparent ghastly behavior. It was at that point that Chuck noticed a wedding ring on her left hand. And he smiled. He did not know this girl and she had caught him gawking. It was then that Chuck noticed a different girl sitting down, reading a book.

(Yes, I am Chuck, in case you were wondering.)

Chase likes white girls and long visits to the can.

2009-08-25T20:08:00.000-07:00

I never really pondered over the display of a couple composed of an Asian girl and a Caucasian guy when I happened upon one. Not until I talked to my friend, Chase. You see...Chase hates Asian girls. He becomes queasy with just the mere glance of one. He also frequents the toilet to excavate numero dos more than any other individual that I personally know. But that is a story that I will save for another rainy day. This brief rhetoric will be solely devoted to highlighting Chase's observations about Asian girls and Caucasian dudes. Chase can't stand the sight of it. Yet Chase, as described above, isn't quite into Asian girls. So why should it really matter? Good question. It's because he hates white guys. Recently, Chase flew down to San Diego for a business trip. He reported that he procured an unusual amount of attention from Caucasian girls. And he was pleased. He would like to move to San Diego now.

Fine Print: Chase doesn't hate Asian girls and Caucasian guys. But he does revel in rolling on the ground collecting change, like a hobo. And he really is an industrial poop factory.

A Dad, A Beerhouse, and Charm.

2009-07-17T13:40:00.000-07:00

Cultural conflation makes San Francisco’s genome a round entity. And yes, you can say that about many metropolitan cities. It’s the lushness of California and the accessibility of fresh, organic, and sustainable products that sets San Francisco apart from other cities. This advantage highlights and regulates Northern Californian gastronomy in concept, flare, and execution. The gastro pub concept has inked its way through and into San Franciscan tradition with attention to craft and artisanal beer and bright, honest, and locally produced food.

The gastro pub in concept mirrors the Japanese izakaya concept. And it’s the Izakaya that is hard to find in San Francisco where beer and sake are complimented by authentic, home-inspired, and simple Japanese eats. The izakaya tradition exudes soul and unpretentiousness. Where sushi is fluid and complex and often luxurious, izakaya lacks façade and smoke screens. Yet most significantly, it is hearty and in the vein of soul food.

A true gem, Oyaji is located on 3212 Clement Street, in between 33rd and 34th avenues, in the Outer Richmond District. The 'Dad' (which Oyaji essentially means) would be Hideki Makiyama, chef and owner. While he has a full sushi bar, stock full of wonderfully fresh treats, I journey here for the dishes that honor the lore of izakayas. Hoshiebi kakiage consists of shrimp rolled up into a patty with vegetables to make a savory deep fried dumpling shrimp cake. I enjoy the aigamo which is duck meat marinated, grilled, and accompanied with yakitori sauce. The menchi korokke is perhaps my favorite. It’s a combination of minced beef intertwined with potatoes and onions, egg, and rolled up into a ball and deep fried. Off the menu on a particular night, I’ve had jack smelt lightly fried crisply and accessorized with lemon and ponzu sauce. The Japanese deep fry in a way where you never give second thought to the amount of grease or weight of a single dish because everything is done lightly and airily. The gindara kasuzuke is a a fatty cod grilled to smoky perfection and glazed with a kasuzuke sauce which is prepared with the water leftover from the distillation process of sake. Each charred and flaky piece is infused with a subtle rice wine flavor and the texture of the fish is buttery and rich.

When you go, make sure to sit at the sushi bar. Makiyama, as a welcoming ‘dad’ would, enjoys making his guests feel comfortable in his home. Drink with him. Cheer with him. He jubilates in his guests’ contentment.

Unfortunately, I was unable to recover any of the pictures that I took. But continuing along with this ode to izakaya and just for giggles, here are some pics that I took of the delectable snacks that I had while visiting another izakaya, this time in Vancouver, British Colombia….Kitanoya-Guu. Eat your heart out.

Ahi Tuna Sashimi Steak

Deep Fried Pumpkin Croquette with Egg

Fresh Beef Sashimi Carpaccio w/ tomato ginger sauce and mustard mayonaisse

Salmon Sashimi Yukke w/ Garlic Soy

Grilled Pork Cheeks and Green Onions w/ Ponzu

Grilled Beef Tongue w/ Salt & Pepper

Deep Fried Prawns with Spicy Mayo

Baked Minced Beef, Mushrooms, Onions, w/ Garlic Tomato Sauce Rice Gratin

Food is SOULFUL when it's served out of a window.

2009-07-07T15:42:00.000-07:00

Bustling along my enchantment with street food, I must devote some time to say a word or two about Little Skillet, the little sister to Farmer Brown. With street food widely becoming 'hip' these days, it seems like everyone is trying to get in on the act. And rightly so...consumers simply are adjusting themselves and their spending habits to the fact that the economy is constantly taking a dump. But it's hard to become accustomed to great food and gratifying culinary experiences and quit cold turkey. Food is the quintessential nexus between people of all different race, ethnicity, and background. It is politically correct pornography. So when someone asks me what I think of when I catch wind of the concept of fried chicken and waffles with mushroom-herb gravy and maple syrup for $8.50 out of an alley window (360 Ritch), it's hard for me to remain reticent. Cuz that just sounds damn good.

I know, chicken and waffles, big deal. But it's hard to find chicken these days that actually tastes like chicken...not the steroid infested, hormone injected birds that plague most of our grocery stores. This bird was fried so that the juice and moisture were locked inside and the chicken wasn't spongey like the salt water permeated bird that we're so used to. The breading was crisped splendidly with the perfect amount of seasoning and a hint of spice, I'm guessing from cayenne. Needless to say, it was very satisfying. The waffle was perfect. Texturally, it was spot-on. I love waffles that are browned just enough so that you have that light and subtle crunch with it's surface, but the inner core is that magical oxymoron constituted of both a dense and fluffy consistency. The syrup wasn't overloaded with sugar and wasn't too viscous. If you go, make sure to get the mushroom-herb gravy. Hearty and earthy, I even just like savoring in it on it's own. As a whole, this box served as validation, that simplicity executed correctly, is often times, if not more, just as fervent as food complicatedly executed.

As much I enjoyed the chicken and waffle, I didn't quite 'get' the andouille sausage waffle dog ($9) that I had. This picture isn't taken well...you can't really see the waffle that the sausage is sleeping on. I had heard so much about the waffle dog before my first trip here, and I guess the hype got to me a little bit. But I will admit, that this wasn't the bacon wrapped waffle dog that many people have raved about. Upon my first bite of the andouille dog, I immediately wanted to dismantle it and consume each component of it separately. The andouille was excellent, peppery with just the right amount of heat and spice. It was juicy and unctuous. It was topped with sauteed onions. The waffle 'bed' was conceived with corn meal. Essentially, it was a piece of corn bread. And it was good corn bread...moist and cakelike, but not overly crumbly. I think where the combination of the two lost me, was that the corn meal waffle was more of a corn bread cake than a waffle. There lacked a strength and elasticity in the foundation of the waffle for the andouille to make it work for me. Separately, I would have delighted in it, but together, it served more like a sausage in a mushy bun. Nevertheless, I'm still on a mission to try this fabled bacon wrapped waffle dog that everyone coos about. The andouille waffle dog was accompanied with freshly fried potato crisps.

And of course, I had to order a side of fries. They were solid. Fresh potatoes, cut and fried to golden goodness with the 'meat' having that subtlely grainy and sultry tissue. Nicely seasoned, they satisfied me very much.

I don't know what it means when people delight in picking up food out of window in the back of a building in an alley. There is quite a bit of fodder that comes to mind and can be associated with some pretty dubious images. With that said, when the food is good, let's just calm down and eat, even if the only place to enjoy such sustenance is on the cement loading dock across the alley way.

The Pig with the Sexy Stomach @ Bar Tartine

2009-06-22T15:03:00.000-07:00

I never thought that I would have to make a reservation for brunch on a Sunday anywhere in the Mission, but such was the case yesterday on Father's Day, as I and a friend wanted to channel our inner white person and exercise our affinity for brunch. We tried Maverick on 17th in between Mission and Valencia and were told that they wouldn't have anything available for the next two and a half hours if we didn't have a reservation. The host was chivalrous enough however to recommend walking up to Bar Tartine (from the same people that brought us Tartine Bakery) and up 16th as there would be other places along the way. We arrived at Bar Tartine and their hostess told us that it would be about an hour wait. Thinking that it was going to be the same scenario for pretty much any place that we might stumble upon, we put our names down and went to The Monk's Kettle for a beer, and returned an hour later.

I don't claim to be an aficionado of interior and spacial design, but I will say that I enjoyed the minimal candor of Bar Tartine. Dark, rich, wooden tables parked against white walls, while the flooring was dark chocolate and weather hardwood. The bar appeared to be white and earthstone tonal marble. And its silhouette was lined with hanging, exposed light bulbs. Nevertheless, this post is really about the pig. So let's proceed...

My picture doesn't really do this hearty helping justice. It's an open faced pork belly sandwich with avocado, pickled jalapeno, egg salad, and shoe strings potatoes. The pork belly was succulent, roasted crisply on the exterior with layered tiers of fatty nourishment. The egg salad reminded me of my friend's deviled eggs, emanating a subtle sweetness, which made me wonder if they used japanese mayo. The avocado was lush and creamy. It was topped by some sort of micro green that was touched with a lemon vinaigrette. It was nice to get a little acid to cut the fat, but I was hoping for a little more. I thought that the jalapeno wasn't piquant or spicy enough. I could have used just a tad more heat or a sharper acidity to assist in balancing the heft of the dish. Overall, despite the desire for a hint more brightness in the sandwich, I still thoroughly delighted in it. The shoe strings were an after-thought. As you may have read, in my previous post, I love fries. However, I didn't really revel in these. They had no 'meat' to them. And they were more like potato chips. Perhaps that is what they were trying to accomplish so that the entire plate wasn't too heavy, but when hear shoe strings, I immediately think of the ones at Zuni Cafe and I smile.

Below is what my friend had. Sonoma foie gras panini with cherry and black pepper jam, brioche, mache, and a side salad. I am ashamed and embarassed to say, that I didn't even have a bite. But then again, I was never offered one. So I guess that I will simply have to visit again.

Fry that Frenchie!

2009-06-22T14:23:00.000-07:00

Fries accompanied with buttermilk dressing, cajun seasoned mayo, and Heinz ketchup.
Bin 38

I love fries. Fries, pomme frites, papas fritas, whatever you want to tag them. Despite the simplicity of french fries, conceptually, you never have them done the same from two different places. Or I suppose that I should say that despite different places executing them in the same fashion, they probably won't ever taste exactly alike...despite their simplicity. The texture, the bite, the moment when teeth crunch down and combustion of oil, hot potato grain, salt, savoriness, and the audible crispy mashing sound all serve in just a sensual harmony of taste. There's also so many tweaks that can be implemented in the execution of a good french fry. I can find appreciation for pretty much any of them. And I'm fairly certain that most people can. Finely diced garlic, cajun seasoning, incorporating various oils, animal fat, sweet potato, multiple aiolis and dipping sauces, mustard and ketchup, etc. You name it, I'll eat it. I can't help myself.

The Goode Life

2009-06-18T16:34:00.000-07:00

To the five people that maybe read this:

Check out my friend's video and vote for him to get the job of his dreams.
http://www.areallygoodejob.com/video-view.aspx?vid=il6ml79hSpE

Derek's blog:
http://www.livethegoodelife.com

Living The Goode Life? There's something that sounds really good about that.

Yelp this, Smart Ass.

2009-06-15T14:32:00.000-07:00

I only use Yelp occasionally to get feedback from people who have been patrons to specific establishments that I'm looking into, but I really need to read through a lot of text to find the reviews that I truly find functional. Just like Facebook, blogging, or even twittering now, it's another medium for people to extend their digital voice. And when you put it that way, it doesn't seem so bad. It's another innovative branch unto the freedom of speech...a spacious arena for someone to share their opinion. But here's the thing...more often than not, their opinions read like a caveman trying to articulate that the kampachi crudo was lacking seasoning and had too much acidity that it overwhelmed the fish. And no, I'm not talking about the Geico cavemen. That's right...it's downright impossible to absorb anything positive or pragmatic about these 'reviews,' other than "GOOOOOOOdddd" or "Baaaaaaddddaaaah." And fine, whatever, maybe I'm being a little condescending myself, but really now, what am I supposed to take from, "Dude, what's with the attitude. Great beers, great food, a little overpriced but customer service is key. How about a smile every now and then at leat." Two stars out of five. What does that mean? What should I really take from that? What makes the beers so great? What about the food did you like? And what are the industry standards for something being 'fairly' priced? After all of this, the 'great beers' and 'great food,' but service without a smile, warrants this place two stars out of five? According to what scaling system is it justifiable to knock it down that low? And you see, that's just it, there's really no logical frame for what comes to be an aggregate rating system for a place, because each individual carries in their pocket a different rating system where they hold certain attributes to have various levels of value and markability. Actual food, which to me, happens to be the most important thing to be at a food establishment (I know, go figure), doesn't appear to be the determining factor for quite a few yelpers. I've read far too many opinions that read, 'The food and drink are surprisingly fantastic, but the place is small and crowded. Also, it took us an extra 3 minutes to flag down some service. So I'm going to give it two stars out of five. If it wasn't so cramped, I'd give it the full five.' Really?! Did you find yourself forgetting that you were going to a pub? Cuz man, I totally agree...I love those pubs that have no one in them. It's absolutely refreshing to find no people in a pub, a place where people to go be social. There's a quaintness and charm that can be associated with a quiet pub (tsk-tsk).

I'm not saying that all yelpers are dumb twits, but a lot of them sound like prima donnas. And there is a difference to being a relevant reference basket of eloquent and constructive critique and just being a pretentious, wannabe-elitist, lover of-your-own weightless diction, A-hole. There is such a thing as writing for the sake of wanting to spread quality information. It's another thing to just be enamored with the sound of your own voice. Here's an example. Sure, super duper witty about comparing consistency of food to AT&T mobile service (scratching my head as I wonder how people can be so 'smart.'), but really, what's fruitful to take from this?...Not much.

Here's another 'review' from that I found amusing. It's written by a Joe C. Here's an excerpt:

"The food is just alright. I can't complain about the quality of the food because the quality was just fine. But that itself is also a problem. The food is JUST alright, nothing more and nothing less. I don't remember it being bad at all, but give me a few more weeks and I probably won't remember the food at all. It's not memorable."

So Joe, what is it that you are really trying to say? Because all I got there was that you liked it, but you thought it was ok, but you didn't have a problem with it, but you did, because you couldn't complain about the quality of the food, because it was fine, but you won't remember it, but you will remember that it wasn't bad at all, but you know...it's 'alright,' but you can't really understand why you can't say anything of worth about it, because you know, it was 'JUST' fine.

GREAT. Thank you for that.

The biggest fundamental pickle that I have with a lot of yelpers is that they're just downright cruel. I understand that this is a forum for more thought and freedom of opinion and it's great and wonderful...yadayadayada. But perhaps people should stop and think about how a lot of these businesses that they 'rate' and 'review' are small business establishments, run by families. These are people/families' livelihoods we're talking about here. They're trying to make an honest living and I'd venture to say that the majority of them do take pride in the service that they provide. They want people to come back and be happy with their experience. So just because you paid patronage to an establishment one time and had an experience that wasn't the greatest, you feel like it's your duty to sandbag them in every and any way possible? And even on an objective level, how can you honestly give a fair judgement on one experience? Maybe they had an off day. It does happen...to a lot of people, and I don't think that I'm out of line in saying that it happens to you, probably more often than you'd like to let on, since now you've become such an institution of judgement. Yes, I was being sarcastic....just to help you out if you didn't get that. And that's why I think this is just awesome:

These places that people love to bash should be able to bash people right back, if only for just the stupid shit that they write. Maybe Pizzeria Delfina's being a little hard on Natalie T. I guess I can sympathize with her. I personally love my pizza extremely dry, tasteless, bland, and overwhelming forgettable. Grease? Eww. Pig fat? That's like...sooooooooo gross. (Haha.)

To be fair, here is an example of a useful review in my opinion, written by Lee H. regarding Beretta. Insightful, by simply explaining the foundation of her opinion. Not denigrating by any means and voiced relatively fairly and descriptively. Kudos to you, Lee H. Only thing I would have liked to see, is if you had written your review after visiting maybe a couple times. And there in lies the reality, that it is hard to find a Yelper that will formulate a congruent opinion after a number of experiences and not just the first. If you notice, most of these reviews are written after the first experience.

So. People that want to be food critics and general reviewers of anything and everything...Perhaps, you should garner some expertise in the area of which you decide to offer your opinion. And for goodness' sake, don't base everything off of a first impression. And one more thing, spare the 'wit' and the gratuitous, heartless malice. You're really not that important.

Kitchenette: Gourmet Lunch Grub out of a loading dock.

2009-06-12T18:41:00.000-07:00

During this time when the economic recession has hit everyone of any industry, we've seen an emergence of restauranteurs and food proprietors opening up street food joints, all in efforts to allow consumers to enjoy delectable food, orchestrated with organic and sustainable ingredients, at prices a fraction of what it would cost to sit and dine inside their restaurants. Chez Spencer's Laurent Lategly has a taco truck nessled on 7th and Folsom serving French fare. The people that brought you Farmer Brown, opened a window that they call Little Skillet on Ritch right off of Townsend that serves chicken and waffles and other southern fare. At the Lung Shan Restaurant on Mission in between 18th and 19th, a guest chef and crew are brought in every Thursday and Saturday nights to put together a menu for Mission Street Food. It's poignant insight into how the food industry is trying to beat the downturn. And who doesn't love street food? It's cheap and often times, something very minimal-cozy about it, to steal a phrase from a friend of mine.

So that brings me to Kitchenette for today's chalk talk. Kitchenette isn't exactly 'street-food.' It's more or less a lunch stand that runs out of a loading dock on Illinois in between 20th and 22nd (apparently, there is no 21st there). The selling point is that everything that they use is organic and sustainable, even the cups, utensils, and box-wear that they use. The menu changes every day with usually two main entrees to boot, always under $10. They do gourmet sandwiches and handheld type of fare, making it very 'street-food' and 'grub-to-go' friendly.

This particular afternoon was a Thursday and I took the 22nd from my place to go outbound and get to the last stop, 20th and 3rd. The menu for that day announced Korean Tacos. They were white corn tortillas filled with kabi-style beef, marinated and grilled. Nicely cooked medium rare, they were tender and tasty. They were topped with three different types of salsa: roasted tomato-sesame salsa, spring onion-cilantro salsa, and avocado salsa. They also added some spicy cabbage. The heat was nicely balanced with the acid from the avocado salsa. And the cilantro was maybe the best part of the taco, very bright and bold in flavor with a very round bitterness to it. This was $8.50. The only problem that I had was that I wanted more. $8.50 for a few gourmet tacos that were excellent just was still a bit pricey for me, considering that I left needing to eat something else still.

The chicharrones ($3 bag) were fantastic. Pork skin cracklings are usually too heavy and saturated with too much oil for my taste. These, on the other hand were fried to a crisp, yet light and airy in texture. Seasoned with simply salt and a little sugar, I could probably eat them all day. The strawberry-rhubarb refresher ($2.50) is exactly that, quite refreshing. It wasn't overly sweet and sugary and it was touched with just the right amount of acid and tartness.

The total damage was $14 + $1 for tip. Not exactly 'cheap' for eating off of a loading dock standing up, or if you are lucky to get a bench. Not too expensive, but considering that I still needed some more chow afterwards, I could probably find other places to satisfy my hunger for less than that. Nevertheless, it is an experience that had its share of high points and I will be sure to visit again on another day, when they have heartier sandwiches on the menu.

'I don't know you, but I want you...'

2009-06-10T14:01:00.000-07:00

Eighty-eight minutes could not have been more captivating than when I retired to my couch to watch Once last night. Rarely do you drop upon a film that draws you so far into the soul of the story, the beauty of its characters, and the fervor of their relationships. Not to mention, that there was nothing glamorous about this movie...it was carried by people. No special effects or revolutionary cinematography. Nothing extraordinary to look at per se. Once is a musical, in the most natural state. There's no evident production. And as cliche or generic of a statement it is, I really can't find a better way to say it than as I was watching, I truly felt that this was life in motion picture.

The movie's story revolves around a young singer-songwriter (played by Glen Hansard) who performs out on the streets of Dublin when he's not working his father's shop, repairing vacuums. He's handsome, but the countenance of his eyes immediately express sadness. His voice confirms it and serves as the driving vigor of his musical direction, with his melancholy crooning sharply able to skip across octaves. As the movie opens, he finds himself encountered by a girl (played by Marketa Irglova) at night, who turns out to be a musician in her own right. The girl questions him, probing him about the inspiration behind the song that he just finished. There is an earnestness about the girl, something so unequivocally unprocessed, it's hard not to be enamored with her, as the guy quickly understands. Her beauty is dignified and even though she is quite visibly young, she knows how to throw her weight around. And she gets what she sets out for. One of my favorite images of the movie is of her walking next to him, ever so frequently looking back and forth at each other, as she holds on to her blue hoover vacuum by the hose, dragging it along as if she was dragging a puppy by the leash, as they go to his father's shop to get it fixed. The interaction between 'Guy' and 'Girl,' as listed in the credits, delivers nostalgia for many of us, about lost love and mutual gravitation, a magnetism that is blocked by circumstances in life...timing, complications, responsibilities. Yet you know that they are soul mates. And they know it too. It's heartbreaking and it's familiar. If you don't believe in soul mates, Once may change your mind. The moment they sit down to perform their first duet, Once mesmerizes your soul and touches your heart, with the harmonic intertwinement of their voices, and even more powerfully, each engagement of their eyes.

Once truly embodied the notion that treasure can be found in the fabric of people. No props necessary. I was surprised in the best way possible. I felt connected.

Me? A Goodie-doer? Really?

2009-06-03T19:01:00.000-07:00

When it comes to picking a career path, I've generally been approached by two schools of thought. The first is something that I was exposed to early and often. It's a school of thought deeply embedded in the thinking of traditional Chinese mentality, one that tends to lean more toward the conservative spectrum of thought. It's to play things safely. It's to do what is practical. And its reasoning is that it allows for equilibrium of emotion and control. Make enough money to support the various aspects of your livelihood. Do what is necessary to maintain your sanctity and lifestyle. For much of my life, I've adopted this curriculum. I do have a lifestyle that I'm accustomed to. And I wish to maintain that. If it means doing something that will sustain it, even if my heart doesn't sing with joy about it, it will suffice just as long as I'm not miserable doing it. And for a long time, this made complete sense to me. I generally accepted the fact that not everyone finds a career path that can be associated with bliss. But it's finding a happy medium that will benefit one's overall time on this earth in the long run. That happy medium will still allow for opportunities to materialize along the way.

And then this dude gallivants into the cafe. Let's just call him Recession.

"Hello Sir. Can I get you some coffee or a pastry?"
"No, but you can go f*@k yourself."
"Why, thank you. Will you be staying a while?"
"Yup. Anguish, baby. Anguish."
"Excellent. Thanks for the misery."

Now you'd think when this guy comes around and does to people what he does, people would be more inclined to embrace the first school of thought. In reality, most people do. You see, this fear monger took my job away from me. For the first few months, I scrambled to find 'a job.' Anything, really, would have been satisfactory. But then I kept putting myself out there in positions that I was easily qualified for and I kept finding my efforts fruitless. Five months later, still unemployed, my blinders are lost in the wind. And not to say that I'm not confused. I am perfectly discombobulated. And I'm scared shitless. Believe that. But my befuddlement is hatched by the fact that I'm thinking with not just my head now, but with my heart. Isn't it preposterous that people can't find jobs in their own industry...the industries that they've spent the better part of their professional careers fine-tuning? Brilliant, bright, capable, extraordinary people can't find a job doing what is second nature to them. Isn't there something entirely wrong with this picture? And all this heartache and abasement for what? For something that I'm not even passionate about doing? I worked for a company that did marketing and advertising online where the end game was lead generation...getting someone to fill out a form so that I could send that person's info to my client. What my client did with that lead wasn't my concern. It was just my concern that the client paid me for that lead. And while it was fine and I didn't mind the experience or actual work, it hardly warmed my heart and to be honest, it didn't tickle my brain all the much either.

Interesting. Maybe... just maybe... there would be a chance... that....... I would be happier doing something else? What an astonishing notion (slapping my thigh and half hoarsely chuckling)! And don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to denigrate people that stick to school of thought #1. I mean, people do need to make sure that their livelihoods are secure. People have children, they have large mortgages, fat bills to pay, immovable investments that they're tied to. I get it. They need something, anything. And they're right to feel that way. I'm just not one of those people. So here I am, finding myself giving this asshole (Recession) the bird. And at the same time, maybe I have him to thank for my new-found enlightenment.

So... good, honest work. Right. Something that I can take pride in doing. Something that I can smile about at the end of the day. And something that gives me frequent opportunity to say, 'Today was a good one.' Where can I indelibly leave my mark? Make someone happier than they were before? Leave, making a positive difference?

I don't know. But I'm going to look for it.

Longing for a time when…..

2009-05-18T20:57:00.000-07:00

….I could breathe in the fragrance of a woman and be at the equator of the universe. I’d like to believe that I don’t need anyone. I don’t need affirmation of myself. I don’t need someone to confirm my worth and my light in this world. But I do miss the rawness of humanity and her candy. I lust for the crux of the back of a woman’s neck against my cheek and my chin. I crave the circle of her navel and the perpetuality of her legs. And mostly, I want the empathy and humility of her skin. There’s a softness there that is beyond the confines of depiction and explanation.

I feel very little that I know to be more truthful than this. And you know what? I’m glad. Because I should feel this way.

So that’s what it’s like to be a woman.

2009-05-18T20:54:00.000-07:00

I went to a bbq yesterday for Bay to Breakers. An elder man, inebriated out of his wits grabbed me by the arm and mumbled,

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah….suck your ______.”

Oh really, you say?! You are one smooth dude. I thought to myself, ‘Even if I was into that, you are the ugliest, vilest, most detestable, doop of a man. I’m going to go shower now. '

And then I had a thought immediately after…did I really just think that? Wow. Revelation. Women really do have to put up with a lot of appalling behavior.

You owe me more than this.

2009-05-10T12:25:00.000-07:00

Have you ever known something about someone and had to endure them lying to your face every time you saw them? Obviously, they have no knowledge of your enlightenment. So you stand there with this nauseating distaste growing more and more voluminous as their chicanery festers on. And you can't say anything, because you want them to tell you. You want them to be honest and true. Sometimes people can surprise you with their cowardice. And sometimes these people are people that have major significance in our lives. I never thought that I could come to such revelation, but sadly, I have. I do not crave attention and I think life has been bountiful to me. So I will not carry on a 'woe is me' dissertation. But I am hurt by this affliction. Apologies for the journey on the gloom train. I hope to keep these type of published thoughts to a minimum.

And so it goes...

2009-05-02T14:12:00.000-07:00

Here is my surrender to the revolution of social networking and its co-conspirator, the blog. Initially, I wondered why the blogging phenomenon was so utterly captivating to people. I thought that there seemed to be a bit of self-indulgence in the average blogger's tone. It appeared to be a forum to get more attention from people who probably don't even care that much about you. A bit of a 'Look at me! Look at me!' domain. I mean, why wouldn't people just keep a journal, if these thoughts and ideas and information that they needed to write were only really for their own self-gratification.

But here I am. The more that I've read, the more I've discovered with every crappy, prima donna's weightless fluff, there is a person that actually has interesting and thought-provoking things to say. It's good information and ideas inspiring people to think for themselves and the day ahead. I can't cut that. So to you, Blog. Let's hurry up and get this love-hate relationship over with. I aim to be completely worthless and really, the more shitty entries I can post, the better.

----------------------
Yesterday, I had dinner with some friends at Sahn Maru in Oakland. It's a Korean establishment. I've been there a few times now. It has quickly become a favorite of mine. The people there are very warm and entering the doors always is met with a cheerful, bright smile. Last night we had bbq chicken and pork, spicy kimchee bean paste soup, kimchee seasoned assorted shellfish with preserved fish and veggies. You will come to know me as a foodie so I will often write about my foodventures and taste bud tickles. The food was fantastic and always is here, but what I really want to write about here is the conversation that I had amongst my friends. I met these friends that I had dinner with in college. The one that sat next to me has a younger sister. The way she describes her sister is a little heart-wrenching. It seems as if she is encapsulated in a shell. She doesn't seem to like talking to anyone and would rather just be left alone. I, being the obnoxious twit that I am, enjoy trying to get my friend to set me up with her sister. The funny part of it is how irritated she gets. And I'm not really sure if it's the idea of me and her sister, or if it's just anyone and her sister. I'm pretty certain it's the former. Here's a little of our dialogue:

Friend: She wouldn't be into you.
Me: Why not? She's not into awesomeness?
Friend: (nervous chuckle) She doesn't like talking to my friends.
Me: I bet you that I could make her laugh.
Friend: That actually might do her some good.
Me: And then I could take her back to my place.
Friend: .......
Me: You and I are going to be in-laws.
Friend: (contemptfully grinning)
Me: I'd be able to confide in you about, you know....bedroom stuff.
Friend: You're terrible.
Me: Do you have a picture of her? Can I see?
Friend: Why?
Me: Because I'd like to see what my soulmate looks like.
Friend: (vexatiously twitches) I have to go to the bathroom.

Yes, you may think that I was a little inappropriate. But one must be so every now and then to enjoy a soulful laugh. It has become habitual for me to inquire about her and her availability. I do this because I know that I can push her buttons and it gives me pleasure and apparently, everyone else at the dinner table as well.

Some people get very squeamish with particular things. My friend becomes very uncomfortable when I talk about her sister. I tried thinking about what makes me uncomfortable. Is there anything that makes me wiggle like a worm on a fish hook when encountered with? I couldn't really think of one. And I think that I'm lucky in this regard. But I will continue to look.