without so much as failing doubt
to chance upon our dreams
we seek to shore and shelter through
to that we cannot gleam

upon the stars and moonlight skies
the hopeful hearts may seek
but curtain falls from twilight beams
to silent tears I weep

empty now as if a bottle
cast upon the seas
my message held so deep within
for no one here to read

I lay upon this shore of mine
with wounds so deep inside
a plague of festerous blackened bile
this pain I cannot hide

a bane to all who see me now
of ugliness filled deceit
that maims and marks and bleeds
the heart that once so lovingly beat

can you sense this darkness now
you gave for me to keep?
this anger borne a beast within
that lusts to tear and feed

to claw to rip to rend asunder
to hold beneath this raging thunder
to loot to rape to vainly plunder
to sate this gruesome one eyed wonder

For I am but a shattered being
with fissures spread throughout my self
that bleed my feelings upon the sand
as my fading husk sears
in the light of the blistering sun

[ esca | 11:13 AM | ]

 

Afterglow

I went up to LA over the weekend, mostly unplanned. I must have listened through Afterglow at least twenty times through, although I'm still undecided on the album. I think Isabel has most cleverly descriptive review, its afterglow of a nostalgic reminisce, as if the glow of the brightest days have passed. Sarah will rise will again, that I must believe. Anyways, so the trip really started on Friday when Isabel and I went down to the Blood Bank at Upas street in hillcrest to go give blood. I say that the trip began here because, my original plans for the weekend spanned donating blood and sleeping. However, as it was Tu Tram's 21st, I rescheduled for friday morning, and pretty soon found myself with a three day trip to LA on my plate.

While at the Blood Bank, we were attended to by a large and imposing nurse who asked me, "you are?" to which I responded "O positive" and then she laughed and replied, "no your name". Isabel did the same except she replied "B positive". Everything went smoothly except for Isabel, as the nurse failed to release the pressure on the arm band completely before essentially ripping the needle out of her arm. The pressure caused the blood to spurt out and splatter over Isabel's shirt. Although I did not witness the event, as I was by this time, in the waiting room enjoying a doughnut and some orange juice, I did see the aftermath and of course I have my ever present imagination at my disposal, to conjure up what must have been, an abhorrently violent scene. The lady at the juice counter offered Isabel two Blood Bank T-shirts to pick from to try to atone. It was a very sincere gesture. Afterwards, we went to Karen Krasne's Extraordinary Desserts, and we had a caramel macadamia cheesecake. After dropping Isabel at home, and feeling a little tired, sprawled out on my bed and promptly passed out.

I woke up around 5ish feeling a little sick. Perhaps a little nauseous, but more along the lines of just less-than-normal. Probably the combination of general lack of sleep, lack of blood, and having only eaten cheesecake and doughnuts all day. Contemplated packing, but had little energy and less motivation. Waited until Vu called and then I got ready and packed, picked him up, stopped by In-N-Out, and then headed up the 15 to LA.

Along the way north, as I drove somewhat recklessly to compensate on time, I nearly got into another accident. To describe the situation, there are three lanes of note, on the left most side is the carpool lane, with ourselves two lanes to the right. As I'm driving a car to my right signals to turn into my lane, and nearly cuts me off. I say nearly, because I have already moved one lane over to my left and am accelerating through. However, another car from the carpool lane starts to turn into the lane that I am now accelerating through. That car must not have noticed me and was probably going 30 mph slower. So...I'm left with about 10-15ft to drop 30 mph on the freeway. I have no room to my sides, as on my right was the original car that cut me off, and to my left is another car. My only option is to brake. So I remember pressing on the brakes and watching in dismay as the car gradually approached my car. The rear bumper of the front car dropped out of vision as my tires screeched as in pain. But then, the critical moment passed, and the image of the car in front of us started to move farther away to a safe distance. I was pretty shaken up at first, but as soon I grasped that we were ok, the uncertainty and nervousness gave way to anger. I remember feeling incensed at the cars around me, perhaps unreasonably so.

I suppose anger is the one of the easy quick ways to deal with fear. Convert fear to anger, and instead of being weak, you become strong. Or perhaps more accurately, instead of feeling weak, you feel strong, regardless of what that means in reality. My left arm was shaking slightly and I remember when we finally got to TuTram's apartment and I was able to sit down, I could literally feel the waves of tension course through my body.

We wished a happy 21st to TuTram and the headed out to sunset blvd to hop around the bars and celebrate the birth of a new legal drinker by consuming mass quantities of alcoholic beverages. Parking was ridiculous however, as most of the valet lots were full. Thanks to Vu and his brilliant scheming however, we parked in some mall structure and purchased one movie ticket to validate two cars. We then headed over to Saddle Ranch where we did some drinking and watched people ride and fall off the mechanical bull. I've noticed, that people in general take delight in the misfortune of others, myself included I'm embarrassed to admit. It's true though. The harder of the more awkward looking the "fall" was, the greater the roar of approval from the crowd was. When one girl was basically flung around so that she hit her head against the bull, which looked as if it really hurt, the audience gave a resounding cheer of approval. Kristy, Vu's current gf, was the only one from our group to ride the bull.

When we were kids, and if we saw someone fall and hurt themselves, our natural reaction was to laugh. As we get older, we learned that it isn't polite to laugh. I think this can be broadly applied to a lot of traits, there are natural reactions and urges we carry inside us that we may have "learned" to hold back. As in be less selfish, be more responsible, etc. I think people are naturally selfish and irresponsible...but we've learned to become less so to function within society. Its interesting also to see sometimes when people let go. For instance drinking tends to bring out the uninhibited persona. So, if someone is nice and caring 80% of the time, but then belligerent and selfish when they aren't holding back, how would we classify such as person? Nice? Mostly-Nice? Mostly-Nice-With-Asterisk? Sometimes people tell me I'm a nice person, and it makes me feel guilty sometimes, because I'm not really "being" nice. I'm just holding back.

Next we walked over to Dublin's, but got turned away at the door as they were only "letting in girls" at the time. So we crossed the street to Miyagi's. This was my first time here, and walking through the restaurant/bar was interesting as it seemed to be almost hive like in structure, with multiple passage ways leading to various sections and staircases. We went to the main bar section on top, and was pleased to see all the girls dancing on table tops and bar counters as was previously described to me. Tu Tram and Kristy decide to get up to the bar counter, although Kristy can accurately be described as sloshy drunk at this point. While dancing on the bar, at one point she fell over onto a stack of drinking glasses, sending them flying in disarray. As I moved over to catch and support her, she flung her arms wildly and hit me square in the face, sending my eye glasses flying as well. After getting her down and handing her to Vu, I remember blindly looking for my glasses and hoping that no one would accidentally step on them. Luckily I found them in time and made a mental note not to let Kristy get on top of the bar again.

After Miyagi's, we went tried going back to Dublin's and this time we were able to get in. We did some more drinking and dancing and the place was pretty cool overall. The bar closed a little early at this time, by 1:30 or so, so we got up to leave. The crowd split at this time, as I was trying to meet back up with Isabel, and with some strange annoying debacle in where someone was getting dropped off and where we would meet someone. After we were all together, we stopped by Mickie D's and headed over to another apartment party. At one point while sitting on a couch eating my quarter pounder and feeling it slosh around in my stomach full of alcohol, it occurred to me that the three ladies sitting adjacent to me represented in one sense, a relationship timeline for Vu. I looked over at Vu, who had a curious expression, and I vicariously felt weird. Three of Vu's ex's or current gf were in the same room and occupying a 10 ft sphere. Yeah, quite a trip.

Afterwards, I dropped TuTram off and wished her the final happy birthday, and then headed off to Jen's apartment, Jen being Isabel's younger sister. Jen goes to an art school Otis, but also lives in the UCLA area. At this point, it was only about 3 or so, but we ended up chilling and talking until much later. I met Jen's roommate Mike, who is a very interesting character. Our original plans were to take Isabel's exchange student Maki to see some of the LA sights, but at about 5 in the morning, Mike convinced us to go to the UCLA-Oregon game the next morning. Either he was very persuasive, or we were just feeling adventurous. So, we went to sleep and woke up around 8 am extremely tired. Turbo shower time and dress, we get up to go to the game, and do a little Ralph's shopping. We drive to the Rose Bowl, and meet up with Mike's friends, and grill and drink merrily. We explain to Maki that it is an American football tradition, to tailgate first and then watch the football game second. She smiled and nodded her head. While there, we are able to scalp tickets for 20 bucks a piece, and play frisbee on the putting green. As part of the parking accommodations, they converted a UCLA golf course into a parking lot. Very strange way to "take care" of a golf course, but hey, truly a novel experience. We get into the gate and head over to the student section with the score already 7 nothing in Oregon's favor. Just as we were getting settled in, Oregon scores again, making it 14 to nothing. The day only gets worse for the poor Bruins as Oregon serves up a brutal spanking and after about three quarters of this one sided violence, which stood at 31 to 6, we left to go home. Isabel and I were passing out at various times due to the lack of sleep and tiredness.

We get back to the apartment and I listen to Mike tell me random stories about himself. He is a very "experienced" twenty year old and we swap stories of accidents and inebriation amongst other things, and various experiences dealing with cops. He had one really interesting story which involved getting stabbed as part of some less then broadly visible transaction. He was helping move pills for a friend in exchange for money, in excess of five digits. During the transaction, someone on the other side suddenly reached out and stabbed him in the side. He said he could feel the blade as it entered his body, and his first reaction was shock. His associates fire back at the perpetrators although they speed away, never to be found again. As Mike lays bleeding and wounded, his associates are reluctant to bring him to a hospital. Instead they return him to his "big brother" or dai lo and he gets dropped off at some old chinese doctor's house to get patched up. It's like something you see in a Tarantino film.

Tired, we pass out for a few hours and plan to meet up with some more of Isabel's friends. Also while at the apartment, I teach Jen how to read people's fortunes. A trick taught to me a long time ago at Warner Springs. While reading Maki's fortune, the truth is ascertained as to why she so badly wanted to watch the football game. Her crush is one of the football players from her university in Japan.

We meet up with Dirk and Nihar(sp?) to which I will refer to Dirk as "The Nowitzki" as he has free flowing hair much like the more famous Dirkster used to. The Nowitzki is an aspiring director/writer. Living also the true lifestyle of the aspiring director/writer, he camps out in the living room of his apartment with posters and books that give him the aura of a true artist. We eat at Hurry Curry and then head over to the Liquid Kitty, which is described as swanky, a combination of one other word that starts with an s and danky. Indeed, the place was very swanky, and a glowing neon sign outside that switched between a green martini glass and a cigarette. The big N and I enter first, with Isabel and Maki trailing. The bouncer, a latino male, looks at us with disgust at our lack of savoir faire. To which he comments to Isabel, if you had been with latino males, they would have let the ladies in first. Full of chagrin, I can only offer to let Isabel in first next time. The bar was very crowded and full of ambient noises and conversations. Dimly lighted with shaded lamps, the sort with light only escaping from the top, giving a sort of dark classy debonair feel. To complete the Liquid Kitty experience, I order a liquid kitty martini from the bar, complete with two olives and an unfiltered camel cigarette. I didn't smoke the cigarette as I believe the big N did. I remember looking at the piece while he dropped inside for a bit, thinking at first that he must have smoked from the wrong end. However, it was only an unfiltered cigarette. The first time I've ever seen one. We met up with Yumi, a female named male guitarist with a band. Also known affectionately as Japajesus from his appearance from the big N. Maki took great delight in his name, which involved giggling and smiling, to which Yumi explained that he wasn't gay or anything. Although he did recount the amount of effort and shampoo it required to keep his long flowing locks in top flight condition.

We left the Liquid Kitty and attempted to go to BrewCo, although dropping off Maki at home because she had a stomachache. Maki assured us that she was fine and that she had eaten too much over the day. Maki is a delicate looking girl. Next we stopped by an apartment party in westwood, where we meet a very strong personality in Danny Grace, also an aspiring writer of some kind, who has finished film school and has moved to LA to live with his girlfriend who apparently supports him. Danny and the big N are like in my mind, two voltron pieces that while very interesting by themselves, when combined together in presence form a much larger and volatile superset machinery with interesting stories. Danny is the "life of the party" type, with a loud and booming voice that can generate story upon story to interest crowds. Perhaps that is why he is a writer. Case in point, before stopping by the party, we accumulate alcoholic beverages at a nearby 7 eleven. The big N first grabs some Smirnoff Ice, also to appease Isabel, but gathers this somewhat tortured expression as he explains, "but Danny will call me a pussy for this". So he grabs some Sapporo instead while Isabel brings the Smirnoff. Sure enough, when we get to the party, Danny calls out the big N as a pussy for drinking malt liquor beverages. To assert his manhood in the face of his friend, the big N drains a few shots of bicardi and drinks from some Sapporos as we all laugh and travel quickly towards inebriation.

Danny and the big N are really good friends who complement each other's personality. If New York is the city of confidence and presentation, then LA is the city of interaction and dynamics. We proceed to drink happily while Danny and the big N recount a story about Iggy Pop, and blowing smoke in some girl's face, and how they made it onto the Queen Mary and its boatload full of stars. At this point, I think my body is starting to break down in terms of handling the alcohol, as a combination of giving blood, fatigue, and blood alcohol saturation. We contemplate still going to BrewCo to meet up with the "Shaman," a guy of many dreadlocks and also "herbal remedies." Everything get's kinda of fuzzy for me at this point, as I remember walking past hookah cafes and discussing the PC term for gypsies. Apparently, traveling roamas?

It was very cold and by the time we get to BrewCo, it has already closed shop and the "Shaman" is no where to be found. We stop by Denny's to eat and the last thing I remember seeing was Dirk try to walk on the tables to walk home to Federal, which is like 20-30 blocks away. I also ordered a coffee but then passed out. Yes I passed out at Denny's. When I woke up, everyone had finished eating and we were settling the check, incidentally, minus Dirk, who had walked the 20-30 blocks home in the cold. Very crazy. We trekked back to our car and I drove Isabel home and we chatted for a while and then passed out.

The next day we wake up and we meet up with more of Isabel's artistic friends, this time another writer/director Vince at a diner called Swingers. I ordered a Burt Reynolds omelet as I remember desiring to order an omelet the previous night at Denny's but failing to do so before passing out. It was one of those diners with all the waitresses dressed with high boots and short skirts. One of the bus girl's, or the girl who was stocking jelly and ketchup to tables had a cute tattoo of a heart on her ring finger. I commented that it was a "cute tattoo" and afterwards she kept coming by to give us extra jelly or fix our salt and pepper shakers.

After eating, we walked down to the pier past third street promenade and perused from street vendors and watched street performers. We watch for the price of a "one dolla donation!" a chinese man balance soccer balls and cups of liquid from his chin. It was very interesting. I couldn't help but wonder perhaps in another era, would this man have been an act in a circus, or the recipient of patronage in some court? Just in general with the creative or exploratory arts, has mass media desensitized us to individual feats? With all the aspiring artists of various fields, I can sense talent but I can also sense the lack of polish that would give them "popular" appeal. That is compared to what we can see and feel in television. Has television become the great corrupter of fine arts, reducing simple human accomplishments to mere street performers and coffee shop regulars?

We head back to westwood and I drop off Isabel, Jen, and Maki at a shoe store. Although it was supposedly for only a short bit, I end up heading to Kristy's apartment for some soy milk and a quick nap. I remember asking Kristy if she had a good time at the bars, and one thing neat that she did was apologizing for partying as "if it were my birthday." After about an hour, we finally hear back from the girls and then we bid our goodbyes and head back to san diego.

[ esca | 2:19 PM | ]

 

Karma Chameleon

I think most people, whether they are spiritual or not, believe in some type of world order. Even the rational scientist believes in the order of science and entropy. When I mean world order, I'm just talking about some systematic way that we have come to expect the world to operate. Like the pessimist would expect pessimistic things to happen consistently. Or the optimist would expect optimistic things to happen consistently.

If you look for something, you will end up believing it. Mostly because a lot of things happen that we as a single person are not aware of. Let's just say on average, 5 out of 10 events are "good" and the other 5 are "bad." The pessimist would simply notice 4 bad things and 2 good things and think the world is fucked. The optimist would notice 4 good things and only 2 bad things and think that the world is covered with flowers.

The optimist and the pessimist though, at least in the strictest of terms, believe in randomness. As in good things can happen to good or bad people, as well as bad things. They just differ on which is more likely to happen in general. However, what about karmic world orders? Religion. Religion in general implies that there is a correlation between action and reaction.

As in, good behavior leads to good results. Bad behavior leads to bad results. I think a lot of people would like to believe this as well, whether this belief is religious or not. So much so that it becomes a mind consuming obscuration of the world. I think this however is when you get into trouble, when righteousness and entitlement begin to factor into people reactions. People begin to look at tragedies within the world with moral implications. There are no direct moral implications to tragedies. If something disastrous like a fire occurs, and a million dollar house in Scripps Ranch burns down, it really doesn't have any moral implications at all. The terms "fair" and "unfair" are non sequiter. This is just an event.

However, I do acknowledge that there is a link between "good" and "bad" events. In that actions beget other actions. If someone is blessed with kindness, they are compelled to be kind to others. If someone is cursed with misfortune by the hands of others, they are compelled to hurt others as well. People who are sexually abused tend to sexually abuse others. The person that was cheated on in a relationship, tends to cheat in other relationships. I think this is how karmic good and evil spread throughout the world.

So what is the problem? Look at wealth. Money can not buy happiness, but it can get you 9/10s of the way there. Also, the lack of money tends to bring great dissatisfaction to people. Money issues are one of the primary reasons for marital issues, and could the rise in divorce rates really just be related to financial stratification of money as opposed to changing cultural values? Is money distributed evenly? Is that even a question? I think something ridiculous like 5% of the population controls 95% of the money. Its not a bell curve, its a log curve.

Thus I think, people are starved for happiness and for good things to come their way. If you watch people, when something bad happens to them, they inevitably feel like they don't deserve it. If something good happens to them, they feel like its somehow deserved. Rarely do you see people who chance upon good fortune and are conscious that all it really is just good fortune. Luck really. A quarterback could chance to pull off a Hail Mary, which is 99% luck, and then act in the post-game interview as if they were somehow destined to it. Or responsible for it. If you are not football inclined, the Hail Mary is basically a play where all the players on the field stand in the end zone and the quarterback heaves the ball high up into the sky and hopes his team catches the ball. Its much like tossing a wedding bouquet into a sea of angry single women.

When good fortune happens, people tend to think they deserve it, or perhaps that it makes up for some earlier previous misfortune they have suffered. So the flow of good tends to be short. People cease to pass on good fortune to others and simply own it for themselves. These are the good-eaters. However, this is the nature of good, people wish for it to stay. Its like if someone were to pass along a bag of sweets amongst a large group of kindergarteners. Eventually, its going to reach some big fat little kid who's going to keep the bag. But few are the true sin-eaters. Capable of absorbing sin and not giving it to someone else. Everyone is willing to pass sin along.

Sometimes, there are people who try to be sin eaters, church people. They try to subsume the evil in the world, but sometimes they eat so much that they become evil. Innately evil, capable of generating sin for others on their own. Fallen angels, the corrupted bodhisattva.

[ esca | 4:16 PM | ]

 

Hello, I’m back…rested and happy. Due to popular demand, here’s the events of my NY City trip 2003. ^_^

jeudi

My flight arrives Thursday morning, and the first thing I realize is that I’m vastly underdressed. The temperature is in the forties and I’ve actually packed T-shirts. Looks like I’m going to for the “layered” look this trip. I cab from JFK to the upper west side to stay with my old college roommate Wen-Kai. He has a nice little studio within a studio, with his production equipment and speakers. He’s a “starving” artist in manhattan, bent to explore his creative outputs in this world. I applaud him. When I arrived, Kai and his partner Chris were working on a mix for an internet radio site proton radio. They have a mix that airs periodically. Pretty cool stuff.

Later, I contacted Evelyn and we made plans for later that evening. I believe the general knowledge of my new york trip was unwittingly leaked from a miss Tu Tram of ucla. >=( Not that my new york trip was much of a big secret, but it was somewhat last minute and more as a general escape I needed as part of a recovery from being burnt out physically and emotionally from san diego. I just didn’t want new york to turn out to be a social obligation trip.

Anyways, we ended up going to an improv show at Gotham City Improv for the night. Turned out to be really hilarious. New york has so many creative opportunities and mid size venues to exercise them. I met with Evelyn and her JT, and also Tara who I met freshmen year. Two other Dartmouth people that I hadn’t met while at school, but since I’m counting, brings the Dartmouth Count to 5 so far for the trip. Just to illustrate how much more saturated the east coast is.

While waiting in the foyer for the show, I’m looking through some comedy flyers and listening in the background to one Dartmouth guy game another Dartmouth girl. Their names escape me at this point. Just out of curiosity because these things invariably interest me. So the guy takes the “I’m so intellectual” approach, perhaps as the girl gives him “impress me with your intellect” signs.

He starts talking about how statistics are important to a wide range of ventures including baseball. He starts talking about Moneyball and Billy Beane. I was very tempted to jump in, but of course stopped myself. I happen to love baseball statistics and know about Bill James and his sabermetric principles and his sabermetric disciples. Billy Beane, who is the Oakland Athletics GM, is considered to be a Bill James disciple, and used some of the principles in Baseball Abstract in selecting personnel for the Athletics. By using statistical analysis over “perceived” success, he’s been able to consistently field capable teams at lower than market prices. Since I’m already showing off already, should I also casually mention that a letter I wrote correlating on base percentage to offensive capability got onto ESPN once? ^___^

Anyways, I think Moneyball has been the latest “in” thing to signal intellectual snobbiness. So, if you want to go down that path, maybe buy the book and read it. I’ve heard many business people comment on that in the past couple months alone, including one of the branch CEOs for Northrop Grumman, as well as division executives. Someone who responds to “read any good books lately?” with “Moneyball” shows a “stats” orientated mindset.

So anyways, back to the guy, as he was very confidently explaining the ways of baseball and Billy Beane, I've noted that new york is a lot about confidence and presentation. Everyone likes to make their own type of scene, and everyone likes to look good in their own particular way. As materialistic as new york appears to the outside world, there are many niches to excel in. Supastar DJ’s for instance, can carry about as much status as high powered investment banker.

After the show, Evelyn, JT and I head over to a trendy Korean café for some tea and coffee. I order a chai that came in a long glass but was a good amount of ice. It was interesting as it was clearly a copycat of the tea shops that have been out for a long time in the west. Evelyn was going off about liking the interior decoration and how she wished she could have one of the rocks that was underneath our glass table. So I lift the glass and give her a rock. She was very surprised.

Next, we went to eat at Blue Velvet 1929, as it was a restaurant that was highly recommended from her friends. I had some shrimp and scallops type dish that was pretty decent, although nothing that special The decor was very nice though, and there was a really cute chinese waitress. Her name was Kim. Very cute but fobby chinese waitress. I did get a chance to practice a little bit of my chinese game on her, to which I got a ni shuo de man hao and a smile. Unfortunately, I used up my chinese vocabulary so I had to leave while I was ahead. That’s what I’m telling myself at least.

Next, we trekked another block or so to Evelyn's studio apartment where I played some Street Fighter and Mario Kart...very old school. I wish I lived in new york, everything is so quaint. We then ended the night by trekking to a small club Lickwed where Chris and Kai were spinning. Thursday nites are heavily asian, with many scantily dressed girls about. Again, I wish I lived in new york. There's a tiny room upstairs to smoke as if in strict defiance of Bloomberg and his smoking ban. Downstairs was a larger lounge area with a DJ booth and dance floor set up. It was interesting to see Kai spin in the city, after watching him so many years in a frat basement, although I feel that dance music isn't as conducive to drinking and hooking up, which was the general ambience from upstairs. It maybe conducive to other interesting things...but that's for another time.

After their set, we left the club with Kai’s "groupies," or a pack of asian columbia(mostly) girls to get some belgium fries. Belgium fries are just very large and very salty fries. At this point, while in the restroomless store I got a sudden urge to relieve myself. Upon Kai's advice, I walked out of the store and went to the nearest phone booth. I picked up the receiver to make the "deception" complete, and then relieved myself into the cold night. Moral of the story? Don't use public telephones. Yes I am a classy guy.

vendredi

Woke up around noon very refreshed and happy. I followed Kai down to his new Union square studio. Currently, most of their production equipment is stored in Kai's room, much to the dismay of his neighbors. It was interesting, their room is part of a larger apartment where his suitemates are also budding musicians or video editors. Looks like a good environment where everyone is in on a similar path. We went to get some food at a nearby cajun restaurant, which name escapes me for the moment. We then traveled back to Kai placed and chilled/napped until night time and went to Brian Home's birthday dinner at Agave. While waiting outside, a black man asked me for money, to which I gave him a couple of dollars. Kai looked at me funny and said, "damn you're stupid, that guy probably just hustled you for money. That guy's probably not homeless...just look at his shoes. A lot of ppl in new york hustle for money, and a guy walking up and down this street can probably rack in a bit." Weird huh? I don't know what to say.

Agave was very interesting place, with very noticeably what Kai termed a "big gay host." This place is supposedly known for its margaritas. There were african spears on the walls and very little walking space. It seemed like everywhere I turned I bumped into someone. Marissa Wong was also there, bumping up the DC to 7. I had a margarita(seemed pretty much like any other margarita) and some pork loins, and watched with dismay as our table ran up a 500 dollar tab. I guess you roll hard while there. That is, the pseduo wannabe asian elites. Next, to further fulfill the dream of the asian new york elitist we headed over to Trust, which is one of the new spots to be for the asian professional. One part that was kinda cool I suppose, was when we cut through about an hour wait in line and went straight to the front, as Brian reserved tables. The entrance leads to a large crate elevator that takes us up to the lounge level. Once again, mad asians, and I bumped into Tom and Byung, bumping the DC again to 9. We get to our tables which is pretty nice, and with bottles of stoli waiting for us...at 250 a pop. Grey Goose at 300 a pop. Honestly, its starting to get a little bit ridiculous at this point, the frivolous waste of money. You could pick up a bottle of Grey Goose from like Beverages and More for 40 dollars. However, I suppose its another new york thing to be seen sitting at such a fabulous table drinking such fabulous bottles of alcohol all while fabulously impressing the people around you at this oh so fabulous spot. Kai's old manager shows up and pisses off Kai tremendously. Kai's ready to start a fight so I figure its probably as good as time as any to leave.

samedi

Pretty chill and somewhat monied out, we head down to chinatown to pig out. We had dim sum at
Ping's Seafood, which was pretty good, with Phil Lee and his girlfriend Mel from Umich. DC++; if (DC == 10) cout << “DC count is upped again” << endl;. Phil is korean and Mel is from singapore, leaving Kai and I to fend for ourselves against the massive flow of chinese/cantonese servers. It's always a little nerve racking when people turn to me for something quite as important as ordering food, especially with Kai's chinese only somewhat better than mine. Dim sum is a very social experience and the quality of your meal depends almost entirely on the ordering acumen of your table. I never dim sum in san diego without an experienced "orderer" excluding my parents as they order funny dishes. I think Kai did pretty good and afterwards we perused around chinatown and Kai picked out various eats and breads that seemed pretty good. We even got a coconut to drink the milk out of, as offered as an idea by Mel. Bad idea...after politely drinking it for a bit, and when Phil and Mel left off another train, I promptly dumped the beastly coconut into the trash. Kai then asked me why I bought it if I didn't like, and I answered just to be polite. I think I do too many things just to be polite. Afterward we went back and chilled/napped and then we blazed went to check out some movies. Training Day and A Taxing Woman's Return. Great films...both of them, the second of which I highly recommend as its an interesting Japanese film. Which just goes to show, how much more highly developed foreign culture is than ours. After all, what is American culture? Mainstream genericism? Do we truly value anything as an "American"?

dimanche

On this fine day, we went down to Central Park as I watched Kai as he performed his walking meditation. I tried to follow as well, but I think I moved too quickly. The point apparently is to walk as slowly as possible so as to feel the movement with the soles of your feet. We ended up resting at a rock next to a lake and lounged around thinking. A grandfather and his grandchild were climbing the rocks and started shouting "top of the world" while they were there. It was entirely adorable. For about an hour, we just sat around that rock and well, just sat. That was the thing about new york that stands out in my mind, that how life seems to revolve around nothing. Just a rock. You could walk around and hear tidbits of people's conversations or self dictations, or see people fishing or rowing boats. People just spending time with other people and interacting in their own way. Its not as empty as san diego is.

We head back to Kai's place and order for about the 5th time(much to Kai's dismay), Chirping Chicken. This has got to be the best thing from the upper west side since sliced bread. Order it!!!! Love it!!!! I don't know if its healthy or not, but this has got to be the most juicy and succulent chicken I've ever had. For three straight years I've eaten happily from this place every time i've been in new york. I feel like my new york experience is not a legitimate complete experience unless I've had the chirping chicken. You can have all the free range chickens you want, I want my chirping chicken! While eating, we watched a very interesting show on the Discovery channel about ants, and the "siafu." Look it up online and read about them if you like ants/insects. Crazy.

At night we headed out to this place called Le Souk so that Chris and Kai can do some networking. It's a restaurant/hookah bar, although like everything new york except chinatown, the prices are inflated. For 20 dollars I was given the chance to try some of their apple flavor, which only costs about 8 dollars or so at Sinbad's and about the same at Fumari's. I don't really think the hookah thing was really a new york thing either, as only one other table had a hookah going, and neither Chris nor Kai really partook. The hookah just not as fun when you're hookahing by yourself. The food was moroccan and we had this really cute australian waitress. She was even nice enough to give me a kiss on the cheek, to which Chris doubted would happen. We also smoked in some back room with this guy Alex that is apparently really well connected and the target of Chris and Kai's networking adventures. It always intrigues me when I'm let into something/someplace special and exclusive. So it turned out to be a fun night.

When we got home we decided to follow Alice through the looking glass. We watched this very image intensive film called Baraka. It was very beautiful. My mind was flowing like it was an endless stream as thoughts would beam into consciousness so brightly one minute, and be forgotten the very next. Like a conveyor belt of images and feelings. The buildings around me pulsed like some living organism. I remember looking at myself in the mirror and watching my image swirl. Kai played some sutra and explained to me the role of the bodhisattva and I remember leaking tears for an hour straight. Tears of feeling. Kai then made me go with him to the rooftop and the dawn was just beginning to peak at this time. From high above new york we stood amongst the clouds and watched them swirl and whip by us. They would reach out their hands to us and beckon me to join, but I knew I did not belong. I felt so touched that night because I remembered again how beautiful the world really is if you just stop to look.

lundi

Very chill day...nothing much happened. By now, I was compulsively checking the internet for news about San Diego. With the firestorm raging, every time I checked the union tribune website, they would come out with progressively more dramatic headlines, from “Hunter starts Fire with flare,” to “Firestorm Ravages San Diego.” Meanwhile, the weather is horrible in new york, a very dreary rain for which we head over to a chinese restaurant for lunch. We contemplate doing things, but end up doing nothing, and watched Intolerable Cruelty at night. CZJ is very pretty.


mardi

Last scheduled day in new york, although with the firestorms in san diego, my vacation “could” be prolonged. We end up going to Saigon Grill, for lunch, to which I highly recommend getting the Canh Chua soup and a plate of Bo Luc Lac. Extremely appetizing.

Alas, my time to new york has come to end so I say my goodbyes and prepare to cab to JFK. On the new york end, everything goes by smoothly, I get to the airport on time and there are no foreseeable bumps in getting my rear back to san diego. My flight however, does stop over temporarily in phoenix. We arrive at about 9 pm mountain time, and there’s already a snag. The fight is no longer continuing to san diego. However, that should be only a quick plane change, still scheduled at the same time. About 15 minutes prior to boarding, we get a temporary delay due to “fog.” I remember thinking that the flight attendants seem to strangely stress “fog” a lot. Any question relating to smoke and fire seem to be referred to fog. An hour passes and becomes two. There are about 50-60 passengers at the gate and we’re all starting to get impatient. Then, the flight becomes cancelled due to “fog” and “weather.” Nothing to do with the smoke, because if a flight is cancelled for “fog” or “weather” related reasons on America West, the company is not responsible for interrupted travel accommodations. In other words, we’re on our own to book a hotel. Yes, it is the quite the croc of shit.

To add to my irritation, they are unable to book me on the next available flight in the morning, rather I’m now scheduled to be home around 10 am PST. Extremely stressed and annoyed, I ended up spending 121 dollars renting a car and driving from phoenix to san diego. Except half the highways, or specifically the 8, which the most direct route with 4.5 hrs travel was closed due to fires. I ended up taking the 6.5 hrs route from the 10 to the 60 to the 215 to the 15 and back to fire ravaged san diego at 5 am in the morning. Contemplated stopping over in LA, as I basically drove to LA.. Proclaimed a small mental victory over the bastid airlines by getting home earlier that waiting for the next flight, and then prompted passed out for the rest of the waking day.

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So ends my vacation, fun times along with an intriguing ending. I hope everyone who experienced the fires was ok, and even though I missed the brunt of it while on vacation, I did screwed on the way back, so I feel your pain! Cheers.

[ esca | 6:09 PM | ]