No one is going to be quite as excited about this as I am now, but I think I just tuned my own guitar, all alone, here in my drafty little apartment, for the first time. Steve gave me this awesome little Guitar Basics 'zine, no-big-deal enough to get me to actually play with the instrument. This while I have had 4 books from the library on the same subject for the past 2 months that I haven't cracked.
I slept for like a million years last night, finally home again in my own little bed. I like going away. Even more, I like coming home.
I've been thinking a lot about the things I want to get done as the master of my own schedule. Learn to play guitar, for example, bc not enough people know how to do that. This isn't the right season to improve my swimming, altho I did buy a wetsuit the other day. The third goal of my big 3 life goals is a foreign language. I was thinking, as one small step for this mankind, I will try to watch at least half my entertainment in French.
The photo-a-day project continues to be time consuming, but it helps me with another of my daily goals which is to leave the house. Move around. Do something. Today my soymilk turned out to be frozen, and I was craving chocolate; so, I went over to Ritual and got a mocha and a piece of vegan chocolate cake and read the SF Weekly. Then, I walked up to the ATM in the Castro. Life sure is challenging.
One of my favorite paradoxes of modern urban life is that of waiting for the bus. You wait for the bus. I might come in one minute or in one hour. So, you have a choice: do you continue to wait for the bus, or do you begin to walk? If the bus comes, it is faster to ride the bus. If the bus doesn't come for a very long time or at all, it is faster to walk. The longer you wait for the bus without walking, the more committed you are to the bus to make your travel time as short as possible. That is, the more invested you are in the bus coming rather than you using your other transportation option, walking. Many things are like waiting for the bus.
Amazingly, some mathematicians at Harvard finally derived a formula to determine how long you should wait for the bus. They found that you should nearly always continue to wait. Exceptions include when you will have to wait more than an hour (how do you know?) to travel a relatively short distance. If you are going to walk, it is best to make that selection BEFORE you begin to wait for the bus. To me, these findings only deepen the paradox.
At the risk (too late!) of this post having no linearity at all, my mother send me this beautiful poem today: The Lily by Mary Oliver. In it "...the whole earth has turned around/ and the silver moon/ becomes the golden sun –/ as the lily absolutely knew it would", I think my mother is commenting on how I am always telling her (and rightfully) "I told you so."
Yes, I know it's annoying, but she so often forces me to be right in advance.
But more powerful to me is the closing and opening of the Lily, like in the e.e. cummings poem somewhere i have never traveled, we all open and close. We meet and love people who open and close us. It's rare.
Last night, Tyler and I were having one of our marathon phone conversations after he had had a successful date (I am a committee member). I don't know how it came up, but I asked him why he liked one of his other friends so much. I'm not jealous of the other committee members, I just thought it was an interesting thing to pick apart. He explained for a while until it became clear to me that all he was really saying was that he likes him. Or, rather, that he just loves him.
I don't know how these things happen or are found, the connections that open and close us. Tyler is an easy example bc the first thing he asked me was what I would do if I had to travel back in time. My heart raced. (He would worry about sanitation and maybe invent electricity. I would worry about having transferable skills and probably end up a prostitute.) I felt a similar zing the first time I met KT, but I don't remember the words that made that happen. (Of course, I am flattering my known regular readers, but they are also easy and safe examples.)
Back to Mary Oliver and her vegetables and saints, the poem also resonated with me bc of a conversation we had at the gallery meeting last night. Every month, we must answer a question to help "break the ice" with the new people. It's usually "what's your favorite food?" Since February is the erotic show, it was "what's your favorite vegetable for erotic purposes" or something like that. People said zucchinis, oysters, and strawberries. We're artists; we don't like to be restricted by the medium. I said "I like to bite... people... preferably not ones who are vegetables."
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
On Categories and Categorizing
From my friend Marty's newsletter... No, I don't read the New Yorker unless referred directly to an article. It's like a boat -- better to have friends with one. If you get your own, you have to read the whole thing.
None of the Above, What I.Q. doesn’t tell you about race. by Malcolm Gladwell
THE NEW YORKER The psychologist Michael Cole and some colleagues once gave members of the Kpelle tribe, in Liberia, a version of the WISC similarities test: they took a basket of food, tools, containers, and clothing and asked the tribesmen to sort them into appropriate categories. To the frustration of the researchers, the Kpelle chose functional pairings. They put a potato and a knife together because a knife is used to cut a potato. “A wise man could only do such-and-such,” they explained. Finally, the researchers asked, “How would a fool do it?” The tribesmen immediately re-sorted the items into the “right” categories. It can be argued that taxonomical categories are a developmental improvement—that is, that the Kpelle would be more likely to advance, technologically and scientifically, if they started to see the world that way. But to label them less intelligent than Westerners, on the basis of their performance on that test, is merely to state that they have different cognitive preferences and habits. And if I.Q. varies with habits of mind, which can be adopted or discarded in a generation, what, exactly, is all the fuss about?
None of the Above, What I.Q. doesn’t tell you about race. by Malcolm Gladwell
THE NEW YORKER The psychologist Michael Cole and some colleagues once gave members of the Kpelle tribe, in Liberia, a version of the WISC similarities test: they took a basket of food, tools, containers, and clothing and asked the tribesmen to sort them into appropriate categories. To the frustration of the researchers, the Kpelle chose functional pairings. They put a potato and a knife together because a knife is used to cut a potato. “A wise man could only do such-and-such,” they explained. Finally, the researchers asked, “How would a fool do it?” The tribesmen immediately re-sorted the items into the “right” categories. It can be argued that taxonomical categories are a developmental improvement—that is, that the Kpelle would be more likely to advance, technologically and scientifically, if they started to see the world that way. But to label them less intelligent than Westerners, on the basis of their performance on that test, is merely to state that they have different cognitive preferences and habits. And if I.Q. varies with habits of mind, which can be adopted or discarded in a generation, what, exactly, is all the fuss about?
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Friday, January 11, 2008
What Remains (Photosgraphy and Heartbreak, part 2)
I often struggle with trying to say what I mean and not get distracted by all my thoughts....
In 1998, a guy I was dating played for me a song a friend (former gf?) had recorded about a breakup (theirs?). Neither of us liked it. But the lyrics still sometimes run through my head: "I still have my friends, my family. I still have myself. I still have me." So, when I talk about heartbreak making life feel like photos with the other person cut out of them, what remains is still a good image of me.
I made mistakes in that relationship... the worst of which was not reacting to the warning signs. But if I'd broken up with him earlier, I might not have gone to Alaska, and I would never give that experience. Like everything, it becomes a cost-benefit analysis.
Still, look at my face in those photos. I still have that face. Taking it away from me would be, well, a serious and violent crime. Maybe it's a bit strange to remove someone from photos, but maybe it's also empowering. Especially when that's what you need. It can reclaim a time that became very unhappy. It can honor the experiences we had without the element that became icky. In a perverse, indirect and somewhat ineffective way, it gives us back time and energy that may otherwise feel "wasted" trying to make something work that didn't.
In 1998, a guy I was dating played for me a song a friend (former gf?) had recorded about a breakup (theirs?). Neither of us liked it. But the lyrics still sometimes run through my head: "I still have my friends, my family. I still have myself. I still have me." So, when I talk about heartbreak making life feel like photos with the other person cut out of them, what remains is still a good image of me.
I made mistakes in that relationship... the worst of which was not reacting to the warning signs. But if I'd broken up with him earlier, I might not have gone to Alaska, and I would never give that experience. Like everything, it becomes a cost-benefit analysis.
Still, look at my face in those photos. I still have that face. Taking it away from me would be, well, a serious and violent crime. Maybe it's a bit strange to remove someone from photos, but maybe it's also empowering. Especially when that's what you need. It can reclaim a time that became very unhappy. It can honor the experiences we had without the element that became icky. In a perverse, indirect and somewhat ineffective way, it gives us back time and energy that may otherwise feel "wasted" trying to make something work that didn't.
Photography and Heartbreak
The majority of all art is about love and heartbreak. My friends and I have been playing with this little online game that compares movie tastes, and I am generally in agreement with them on most subjects except love where I am either too sappy or too cynical. It's unclear. I did notice that I dislike most of the romantic movies they asked me about (The Notebook, 50 First Dates, Love Actually; ones I did like: Hitch and Mean Girls). I get a lot of flack for this blog being all about relationships, but I don't think that's the same thing. I'm interested in how people get along and not so much their feelings about each other (too mysterious to bother with!).
So, I was getting ready to leave my apartment, and I realized that the memory card on my camera was full. The solution is easy: change cards. But first I have to check if the "extra" card isn't full too due to some past, similar cleverness. And Yikes! It contained a bunch of photos from a 2006 camping trip with my boyfriend at the time. It also contained some originals of photos that have sold successfully at the gallery -- originals I should have!
As fate would have it, this is all happening the company of someone I'm seeing now. While he was very understanding, it was consistent with his agenda to encourage me to delete the whole lot (further wiping out that ex). That's what he suggested. But, as I mentioned, I need some of those originals. Others contained images of me that I particularly like (along with other undesirables).
I sat at the gallery last night. It was pretty awesome as I had 3 sales including one of my own pieces. (I only have 2 pieces up right now!) Gallery sitting is otherwise boring. I usually bring stuff to do. Last night, I edited those photos.
In Friends, Janice tells Chandler that she cut him out of all her photos. She offers him the remaining bag many many of his little heads. Digital photography has the advantage of nothing being left over -- they never exist materially -- so I don't have a bag of heads, arms, hands.... But the remaining images do reflect the feeling if missing that I had most of last year. If I was still in art school, I might print these up on large panels for some kind of semi-conceptual self-portrait.
So, I was getting ready to leave my apartment, and I realized that the memory card on my camera was full. The solution is easy: change cards. But first I have to check if the "extra" card isn't full too due to some past, similar cleverness. And Yikes! It contained a bunch of photos from a 2006 camping trip with my boyfriend at the time. It also contained some originals of photos that have sold successfully at the gallery -- originals I should have!
As fate would have it, this is all happening the company of someone I'm seeing now. While he was very understanding, it was consistent with his agenda to encourage me to delete the whole lot (further wiping out that ex). That's what he suggested. But, as I mentioned, I need some of those originals. Others contained images of me that I particularly like (along with other undesirables).
I sat at the gallery last night. It was pretty awesome as I had 3 sales including one of my own pieces. (I only have 2 pieces up right now!) Gallery sitting is otherwise boring. I usually bring stuff to do. Last night, I edited those photos.
In Friends, Janice tells Chandler that she cut him out of all her photos. She offers him the remaining bag many many of his little heads. Digital photography has the advantage of nothing being left over -- they never exist materially -- so I don't have a bag of heads, arms, hands.... But the remaining images do reflect the feeling if missing that I had most of last year. If I was still in art school, I might print these up on large panels for some kind of semi-conceptual self-portrait.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Emmy and Spork
I am not a foodie. I don't wanna be a foodie. But I do have certain food projects. I've spent some time learning to cook and eat well. I track where the fish and chips are good. Every once in a while I have a surprising food experience. If I don't blog about them, what's the point of blogging?
I went to Spork on Valencia a while back. I had something with pork, and my date something with beef and gnocchi. Both were extraordinarily yummy. I had no expectations, and my mind was blown. I was reminded to mention this as their bread roles were raved about in the SF Weekly last week.
A few weeks earlier, I had dinner at Emmy's Spaghetti Shack (Mission Street). It had never occurred to me to put chevre in pasta. I've been doing it ever since. My mouth is watering at the memory.
I think I'll head over the Lucca Deli while I'm thinking of it....
I went to Spork on Valencia a while back. I had something with pork, and my date something with beef and gnocchi. Both were extraordinarily yummy. I had no expectations, and my mind was blown. I was reminded to mention this as their bread roles were raved about in the SF Weekly last week.
A few weeks earlier, I had dinner at Emmy's Spaghetti Shack (Mission Street). It had never occurred to me to put chevre in pasta. I've been doing it ever since. My mouth is watering at the memory.
I think I'll head over the Lucca Deli while I'm thinking of it....
Monday, January 07, 2008
Aphrodesia
Aphrodesia returns to Afrobeat roots, Eric K. Arnold, Monday, January 7, 2008
Danielle's partner Henry plays with Aphrodesia. Kristin and I were at this show and may or may not be shown in the photo. We danced 'til we dropped!
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Happy New Year!
I only have a few traditions, and they aren't really traditions. They're more like how I like my tea -- personal preferences. On New Year's Day, I like to go for a walk and climb up to the top of a hill, look out, and think about my life. Geoff wanted to know what I wanted to do today, and that's what I said. But then we didn't do it. Tonight, I gave Grayson a call, and he asked if I did my New Year's Day walk. I had no idea I am such a predictable creature. (He, on the other hand, did his, but said it wasn't as beautiful as the ones we used to do.)
I asked Grayson if he made any resolutions, and he said no. Then, he noted that we've been having this same conversation every New Year's for 14 years. Boy Howdy. Time flies when you're having fun.
Referencing last year's resolutions, I note that I never ran the Bay to Breakers, built myself a website, or perfected my apartment, but I did save some money, learn how to sail a little, and put more energy into the gallery. My life perspective is much the same. So, I feel a little silly making the same resolutions again (and/or the same ones everyone else is making: exercise daily, eat healthy, lose 10 lbs...). But I will tell you something I'm starting today: a photo a day. Otherwise, I'll be barreling forward in my usual haphazardly intentional way.
I asked Grayson if he made any resolutions, and he said no. Then, he noted that we've been having this same conversation every New Year's for 14 years. Boy Howdy. Time flies when you're having fun.
Referencing last year's resolutions, I note that I never ran the Bay to Breakers, built myself a website, or perfected my apartment, but I did save some money, learn how to sail a little, and put more energy into the gallery. My life perspective is much the same. So, I feel a little silly making the same resolutions again (and/or the same ones everyone else is making: exercise daily, eat healthy, lose 10 lbs...). But I will tell you something I'm starting today: a photo a day. Otherwise, I'll be barreling forward in my usual haphazardly intentional way.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Rationalizing Resolutions
Can economics make you a better person? By Tim Harford, Dec. 22, 2007
Economists rarely make good forecasts, but let me venture one: Most readers of this column will eat and drink heavily over the next couple of weeks (as will its writer), and many of us will, on Jan. 1, vow to do better in the future. Can economics provide a little assistance in coping with this annual ritual?
...
Economists rarely make good forecasts, but let me venture one: Most readers of this column will eat and drink heavily over the next couple of weeks (as will its writer), and many of us will, on Jan. 1, vow to do better in the future. Can economics provide a little assistance in coping with this annual ritual?
...
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Getting to the Point... or the possiblity of getting to the point
I never got to the point in my last post. I've been a bit preoccupied, and I'm not even participating in the holidays this year. Maybe it was obvious to my readers, but I was trying to make the point that life, like art, is up to the liver (seasonal pun?), or artist, to decide. When I say I wouldn't die for anything, I am also saying that I don't expect others to either, but that is ultimately up to them.
The humor of the Onion article is probably obvious enough to this point. I just like to say things explicitly. It gets murky when you extrapolate staying alive to maintaining a relationship. History shows that, while I will fight tooth and nail to keep something going, I am also willing to walk away completely if I feel the situation isn't beneficial to me. That is, if a relationship isn't conducive to my goals, I choose me.
Who's to say which is better: pancakes, relationship, or life. I'll buy the argument conceptually that it depends on the quality of each. But in practice, I can't imagine compromising the life card. Afterall, it is my biological imperative to live as long as possible, reproduce and then keep my offspring alive as long as possible. I'm not going to argue with biology. It's bigger than I am and can beat me up.
The humor of the Onion article is probably obvious enough to this point. I just like to say things explicitly. It gets murky when you extrapolate staying alive to maintaining a relationship. History shows that, while I will fight tooth and nail to keep something going, I am also willing to walk away completely if I feel the situation isn't beneficial to me. That is, if a relationship isn't conducive to my goals, I choose me.
Who's to say which is better: pancakes, relationship, or life. I'll buy the argument conceptually that it depends on the quality of each. But in practice, I can't imagine compromising the life card. Afterall, it is my biological imperative to live as long as possible, reproduce and then keep my offspring alive as long as possible. I'm not going to argue with biology. It's bigger than I am and can beat me up.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Pancakes and Compromise
I have 2 strings going in my mind/scraps. One’s about dating. The other, money and government. Instead, I think I will talk about the meaning of life... I mean, meaning in life. I watched Stranger than Fiction the other day. It was ok, but I love any time I can spend with Dustin Hoffman. In the movie, his character speculates about if you had to choose between staying alive or having pancakes, you would probably choose pancakes… I mean… life. But it would depend entirely on the quality of each.
A while back, I listened to a radio show (it might have been This American Life) about choice, life and survival. I already blogged about it. After discussing it with lots of people, I found that my sense of survival, or lack of inclination to sacrifice myself, was greater than most of the people I and the radio program asked. Either I am more honest or more selfish than everyone else.
Someone sent the following Onion article out on one of my lists: 30 Miserable Lives Lost In Greyhound Bus Crash. I think it was meant to be an example of negative associations with public transit, but I was thrown back into asking myself these same questions. What’s the point? What’s worth it? What isn’t?
As I told my dinner companion last night: I have learned that almost everything is exactly like dating. When considering ending a relationship, one asks oneself: what is this relationship worth to me, and is that more or less than what my life is worth to me without it? Likewise, when considering beginning a relationship: what is my single life worth to me, and how could this relationship make my life happier? Or: what are the chances I will meet someone I like more than this person? What are the chances I will get what I need from this person? What are the chances this relationship will end up meaning so much to me that I will never recover if it doesn’t workout, and what are the chances of that happening? In the words of Anne Sexton in Snow, “Someone once said: Don’t bite until you know whether it is bread or stone.” Except sometimes it is really hard to tell; so, try biting softly?
That hasn’t always worked for me -- it's all so mushy. I have heard the theory that it takes half the length of a relationship to get over it… or the whole length… or twice as long. I was recounting my romantic history to someone recently, and I realized that, if I ever get over anything, it has taken about the length of the relationship. Grayson’s former coworker Maureen had the theory that you meet someone you like about every 2 years. Grayson said 5. I don’t know what my statistic is because I don’t know how to define “like”. But I do notice that if you set yourself up right, you can manage to absolutely never be free of emotional baggage.
It’s good to have goals.
Oh, look at that. I managed to get weave dating into my thoughts on the meaning of life. What a shock.
Knowing yourself is an important and tricky thing. I work really hard at it. I know that I would not be willing to die for anything. KT’s dating checklist concept is, I guess, supposed to guide us on when to give up our single lives. Except: all of relationships are pretty mushy; how do we know when we are “ready”; and what about when you just really like people who don’t check all the boxes (more than the people you meet who do check them)?
KT’s got me watching this web-based TV show called Quarterlife about these self-indulgent, creative-type 20-somethings. A couple “parts” ago, I typed up a quote from the show, “responsibility is compromise.” The narrator’s talking about the sacrifices we make to get what we want in the future like dieting or working late. Sometimes, I get all irritated when my art sells because it means I have to make more. But then I remember that I make art because I want to make art. Because when I don’t make art, I feel like death, and I am not willing to die for anything. So, selling art is a way that I force myself to be a happy person.
It’s like constructive procrastination, where you are supposed to be doing one thing, but instead you accomplish all kinds of other things to procrastinate. That’s really what my life is all about. I create little games for myself where I’m forced to do what I know will make me happy. I know myself that well.
The string on Quarterlife doesn’t end there. In the current episode, she makes the observation that we have no choice. “Life compromises for you.” I don’t believe in luck, because I don’t believe in good (or bad). I believe in hard work and intension, and I believe in chance. Taking a good look at any situation (job, relationship, etc.), parts make you happy or miserable and everything on either side and in between. So, when examining pancakes, potential boyfriends and jobs, and what to do with the afternoon, I guess having a list, or at least a guiding belief system or set of principals can help. Or not. I’m enough of a romantic (still!) to believe that my gut will guide me.
A while back, I listened to a radio show (it might have been This American Life) about choice, life and survival. I already blogged about it. After discussing it with lots of people, I found that my sense of survival, or lack of inclination to sacrifice myself, was greater than most of the people I and the radio program asked. Either I am more honest or more selfish than everyone else.
Someone sent the following Onion article out on one of my lists: 30 Miserable Lives Lost In Greyhound Bus Crash. I think it was meant to be an example of negative associations with public transit, but I was thrown back into asking myself these same questions. What’s the point? What’s worth it? What isn’t?
As I told my dinner companion last night: I have learned that almost everything is exactly like dating. When considering ending a relationship, one asks oneself: what is this relationship worth to me, and is that more or less than what my life is worth to me without it? Likewise, when considering beginning a relationship: what is my single life worth to me, and how could this relationship make my life happier? Or: what are the chances I will meet someone I like more than this person? What are the chances I will get what I need from this person? What are the chances this relationship will end up meaning so much to me that I will never recover if it doesn’t workout, and what are the chances of that happening? In the words of Anne Sexton in Snow, “Someone once said: Don’t bite until you know whether it is bread or stone.” Except sometimes it is really hard to tell; so, try biting softly?
That hasn’t always worked for me -- it's all so mushy. I have heard the theory that it takes half the length of a relationship to get over it… or the whole length… or twice as long. I was recounting my romantic history to someone recently, and I realized that, if I ever get over anything, it has taken about the length of the relationship. Grayson’s former coworker Maureen had the theory that you meet someone you like about every 2 years. Grayson said 5. I don’t know what my statistic is because I don’t know how to define “like”. But I do notice that if you set yourself up right, you can manage to absolutely never be free of emotional baggage.
It’s good to have goals.
Oh, look at that. I managed to get weave dating into my thoughts on the meaning of life. What a shock.
Knowing yourself is an important and tricky thing. I work really hard at it. I know that I would not be willing to die for anything. KT’s dating checklist concept is, I guess, supposed to guide us on when to give up our single lives. Except: all of relationships are pretty mushy; how do we know when we are “ready”; and what about when you just really like people who don’t check all the boxes (more than the people you meet who do check them)?
KT’s got me watching this web-based TV show called Quarterlife about these self-indulgent, creative-type 20-somethings. A couple “parts” ago, I typed up a quote from the show, “responsibility is compromise.” The narrator’s talking about the sacrifices we make to get what we want in the future like dieting or working late. Sometimes, I get all irritated when my art sells because it means I have to make more. But then I remember that I make art because I want to make art. Because when I don’t make art, I feel like death, and I am not willing to die for anything. So, selling art is a way that I force myself to be a happy person.
It’s like constructive procrastination, where you are supposed to be doing one thing, but instead you accomplish all kinds of other things to procrastinate. That’s really what my life is all about. I create little games for myself where I’m forced to do what I know will make me happy. I know myself that well.
The string on Quarterlife doesn’t end there. In the current episode, she makes the observation that we have no choice. “Life compromises for you.” I don’t believe in luck, because I don’t believe in good (or bad). I believe in hard work and intension, and I believe in chance. Taking a good look at any situation (job, relationship, etc.), parts make you happy or miserable and everything on either side and in between. So, when examining pancakes, potential boyfriends and jobs, and what to do with the afternoon, I guess having a list, or at least a guiding belief system or set of principals can help. Or not. I’m enough of a romantic (still!) to believe that my gut will guide me.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Timothy Olyphant
...is hot. We should definitely get to know each other. His face is handsome while his expressions are intensely weird. They seem to reflect a tortured inner life, and that's very attractive to me. My life of leisure included watching Catch and Release today, and I didn't like it.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Winterfest
Every year, the SF Bike Coalition throws an awesome holiday party. For the last 3 years, I helped with the silent auction. This year, my dear friend Brian was my date.
I love the photo booth. Here are the rest of them.
I love the photo booth. Here are the rest of them.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Transportation Ethics
Randy Cohen, New York Times Magazine’s acclaimed “Ethicist,” on Transportation
Quotes/paraphrases from the interview:
“Ethics are the effects of our actions on other people. …
“The word we ethicists use to describe (people who drive around the city) is “selfish”….
“What civilization is is a restriction on individual freedom….
“Public parking in the city: why is it good for the city for people to be able to store their private property in public space when public space is limited….”
Quotes/paraphrases from the interview:
“Ethics are the effects of our actions on other people. …
“The word we ethicists use to describe (people who drive around the city) is “selfish”….
“What civilization is is a restriction on individual freedom….
“Public parking in the city: why is it good for the city for people to be able to store their private property in public space when public space is limited….”
Chicken Feet
Do you think we have enough?
Oh, thank goodness! There are more over here!
These photos are from the super market in Shenzhen. I went there for the afternoon at Jason's suggestion to look at the city's planning and bicycle facilities. It's a special economic zone, a small fishing village that has grown up just in the last few years since China took control of HK. They thought they would try capitalism close by and see how it works for them. I took dozens of photos of the streetscapes, etc., but the short version is that it's a collision between China and Los Angeles with emphasis on the latter.
Oh, thank goodness! There are more over here!
These photos are from the super market in Shenzhen. I went there for the afternoon at Jason's suggestion to look at the city's planning and bicycle facilities. It's a special economic zone, a small fishing village that has grown up just in the last few years since China took control of HK. They thought they would try capitalism close by and see how it works for them. I took dozens of photos of the streetscapes, etc., but the short version is that it's a collision between China and Los Angeles with emphasis on the latter.
La Vie en Rose
A couple weeks ago, KT came over to catch up. We had a mellow but delicious dinner chez moi. She mentioned that she'd recently seen La Vie en Rose, and the adventures of Edith Piaf and her best gal pal reminded her of us. After dinner, we headed over to Luna Park for dessert and a cocktail. 
We were about to call it a night, when I suggested we take a look at Medjool bc she'd never been there. The roof bar is kinda cool. There we met random guy (whose name I remember, but I don't want to open that door. I didn't realize Medjool is such a pick up joint). Random guy bought us drinks, called me inauthentic, spun me around, and then moved on to other chicks.
As KT would say, Life is Absurd.
We were about to call it a night, when I suggested we take a look at Medjool bc she'd never been there. The roof bar is kinda cool. There we met random guy (whose name I remember, but I don't want to open that door. I didn't realize Medjool is such a pick up joint). Random guy bought us drinks, called me inauthentic, spun me around, and then moved on to other chicks.
As KT would say, Life is Absurd.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Juno, the movie
I saw a pre-release screening of Juno last night at the new theater in the Westfield shopping mall that I didn't even know existed. Particular fun was the cast with the mom from Married with Children, and Jason Bateman (yum) and Michael Cera together again post-Arrested Development. (I love situation comedies involving crazy American families.) The Juno character drives the story, making it a bit more special than your average teen disaster, but I really don't like it when people give babies up for adoption esp when the teen's parents are currently raising a 5-year-old. Juno may have been quick-witted and creative (to a point of feeling mechanistic in the script), but I found it difficult to believe she had such a limited concept of family.
The afterparty was fun with free-flowing Bushmills, and... yeah... I'm going to leave it at that.
The afterparty was fun with free-flowing Bushmills, and... yeah... I'm going to leave it at that.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Term Paper Topic: Me
I got a random phone call yesterday. Of course, I didn't answer it. I think I didn't even see it come in. Anyway, it was from a community college student in Seaside who is doing her "Women in Art" term paper on me. I returned her call, and we had a nice chat. She's going to send me the paper, her display board, and some of her drawings when they're finished. She's a competitive roller skater too. She was surprised by my age -- I look so young in the photo. I told her that I'm a vampire who never ages.
Friday, November 23, 2007
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