Staying in downtown LA for three nights at the oh-so-hip Standard while overseeing the assembly of the latest Vis issue (Sound) and eating like a king. LA is such a great food town, but I've never been a fan in general of this place. Constant driving would make me nuts, for I'm spoiled by living in one of the few cities where you can walk or take public transit. Anne stopped by for a couple hours Sunday, went over to Beverly Hills last night to have dinner with Mr. Steele at Michael Ovitz's new place (whatevs), may go out to Encino to see Phillip's two chillluns, and assembly is happening in Glendale but mostly am exploring downtown for the first time. A few thoughts:
--who knew there was a hill in downtown LA? I didn't, and was the only person in the city yesterday who was huffing up it on the way to the excellent Gordon Matta-Clark show at MOCA. No one walks around but me and homeless people.
--lotta donut shops. Weird considering everyone's so beautiful out here. Donuts do not a beauty make.
--Had a bangin' lamb sandwich at Phillipe's today. Yum.
--taxis are like unicorns. You only get an occasional glimpse as they flit by.
--there are TONS of old movie theaters, mostly dark. Kind of wild that they were built less than 80 years ago with glamour galore, and are now useless and shuttered. There's about 30 on Broadway alone.
--i love the early-mid 20th century architecture that is everywhere, including the diners/americana-type vibe, neon and art deco shite.
Showing posts with label California. Show all posts
Showing posts with label California. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 06, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Maybe
One day I'll resume posting again, when I have head space.
The job reconfigurations of recent weeks are still causing anxiety -- not sure if I am going to go freelance starting in mid-Jan and only work on the Visionaire publication + other print projects for other clients (most likely) / get fired / find a new full-time job / quit in a huff during the next two weeks so I can run away to Thailand with my man friend for a couple months (most appealing).
I had a semi-relaxing trip to SF last week for my old roommate Mikey's wedding, Ann and Derek's 10th Anniversary dinner and the baptism of Denise's 8-month old Sonny. Loads of friends around - the vast majority from Ohio - and amazing weather for the 7th Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, where I saw Buddy Miller, Del McCoury, an Atlantic City-covering Jason Isbell, Dave Alvin, Doc Watson, Jim Lauderdale and the ubiquitous Emmylou. The 3-day Festival is a terrific free, yet not too crowded with dirty hippies, event in Golden Gate Park. Going out simply for the music would have been a good trip in itself.
Said man friend came along, and was an unsurprising hit. And I didn't even have to put on my mature and meet his ex-girlfriend, also in town all weekend.
The job reconfigurations of recent weeks are still causing anxiety -- not sure if I am going to go freelance starting in mid-Jan and only work on the Visionaire publication + other print projects for other clients (most likely) / get fired / find a new full-time job / quit in a huff during the next two weeks so I can run away to Thailand with my man friend for a couple months (most appealing).
I had a semi-relaxing trip to SF last week for my old roommate Mikey's wedding, Ann and Derek's 10th Anniversary dinner and the baptism of Denise's 8-month old Sonny. Loads of friends around - the vast majority from Ohio - and amazing weather for the 7th Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, where I saw Buddy Miller, Del McCoury, an Atlantic City-covering Jason Isbell, Dave Alvin, Doc Watson, Jim Lauderdale and the ubiquitous Emmylou. The 3-day Festival is a terrific free, yet not too crowded with dirty hippies, event in Golden Gate Park. Going out simply for the music would have been a good trip in itself.
Said man friend came along, and was an unsurprising hit. And I didn't even have to put on my mature and meet his ex-girlfriend, also in town all weekend.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Gun Club Tribute
My pal Eric Moffat is putting on this show next weekend in SF in the space that was the old Covered Wagon Saloon. They'll be playing 25-30 songs penned by Jeffery Lee, and Eric is playing guitar with 3 of the former Dwarves in one of two house bands for the night. Eric as a Dwarf. So sorry I am missing his return to the stage in this arena! And while I'm on the topic of EM, I've been digging his work as producer of the new Marcus Shelby Jazz Orchestra CD Port Chicago.
Friday, March 31, 2006
Goodbye to Crackpotville!
"No city invites the heart to come to life as San Francisco does. Arrival in San Francisco is an experience in living"~William Saroyan
Thursday meant it was Jen's day off work, and it became my second day in SF of doing absolutely nothing besides sitting on the couch. It's my vacation, dammit, and I don't have to do anything. Right?? Thursday night was dinner at old standby Cha Cha Cha for Sparky's 39th birthday with the Procsters, the Roger&Kellies and Ol' Dutch. The food hasn't changed here in 15 years - chicken paillard, warm spinach salad, marinated mushrooms and cajun shrimp are still cooked with gallons of cream and butter; sangrias are drunk; you still have to wait for a table; and the Latin American-styles alters lining the walls are striking. And honestly, it's still good.
My journey of pho took me to Turtle Tower on Larkin near the Phoenix for a bowl of Pho Tai made in the North Vietnamese style, meaning no herbs or bean sprouts, and a clearer, less dense broth. The noodles are hand-pulled (read: FRESH) and the broth is light with very little oil. Wow, it was really good pho made even better by a rainy SF day, although I think I prefer the Southern Vietnamese-style that first caused me to fall in love with pho....I met Sparky at the Walnut Creek BART station to go up to Arnold for the weekend, where Kellie and Roger have a cabin in the foothills of the Sierras. Arnold is about an hour Northwest of Yosemite, near Angels Camp and Sonora in old Gold Rush country. I got a tour on Saturday of your various Wild West sites, including the "Mark Twain Cabin", a structure (re)built in 2003 because he MIGHT have stayed on this hill while writing his first novel, "The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County". Quite a big trade in frogs and Twain paraphernalia in these parts. The old gold rush towns are pretty cool, varying between towns developed to attract weekend traffic from the Bay Area, and towns that are rundown with very little going on -- shades of small Ohio towns with no jobs. Nice to spend a couple days with the Sparkster and the Williams-Collins', and sharing their refuge from the city......Back to SF on Sunday night for time with Denise and her gorgeous 9-month old baby boy Dino. What a lovely, happy child, and great to see his mom in fine form as well. Motherhood is doing her good. We had a semi-pricey but only adequate dinner at Luna Park on Valencia Street, where we masqueraded in a photo as "that nice lesbian couple" for someone's parents who were visiting. A couple drinks and a music swap with EM at the 500 Club and then it was off to bed......
And by Monday night, I was back in Brooklyn, the visit reconfirming for me that I do not want to live in SF again. Great to visit, surely miss my peeps out there, a gorgeous and a liveable big city, but living in Crackpotville is just not for me. (I really think SF has the highest rate of people who talk to themselves in public in the world) I can't quite put my finger on it, as to why I was so happy there once but now know that it's not where I want to be. I think I miss the edge and confrontation of NYC when I'm away, and while that gets tiresome too, I still find it invigorating and know that it's my home. I'm more comfortable here. Something about SF makes me want to tell racist jokes just to tweak the liberalist-of-liberal attitudes that come with California. And not that I disagree with the attitudes, but walking the PC party line all the time wears me out and makes me contrary. Lastly, I find myself wondering after a week of nostalgia for times past and renewing friendships, do old friends know you the best, or only know who you once were? And how do you absorb each others' changes, but still retain your connection?
Thursday meant it was Jen's day off work, and it became my second day in SF of doing absolutely nothing besides sitting on the couch. It's my vacation, dammit, and I don't have to do anything. Right?? Thursday night was dinner at old standby Cha Cha Cha for Sparky's 39th birthday with the Procsters, the Roger&Kellies and Ol' Dutch. The food hasn't changed here in 15 years - chicken paillard, warm spinach salad, marinated mushrooms and cajun shrimp are still cooked with gallons of cream and butter; sangrias are drunk; you still have to wait for a table; and the Latin American-styles alters lining the walls are striking. And honestly, it's still good.
My journey of pho took me to Turtle Tower on Larkin near the Phoenix for a bowl of Pho Tai made in the North Vietnamese style, meaning no herbs or bean sprouts, and a clearer, less dense broth. The noodles are hand-pulled (read: FRESH) and the broth is light with very little oil. Wow, it was really good pho made even better by a rainy SF day, although I think I prefer the Southern Vietnamese-style that first caused me to fall in love with pho....I met Sparky at the Walnut Creek BART station to go up to Arnold for the weekend, where Kellie and Roger have a cabin in the foothills of the Sierras. Arnold is about an hour Northwest of Yosemite, near Angels Camp and Sonora in old Gold Rush country. I got a tour on Saturday of your various Wild West sites, including the "Mark Twain Cabin", a structure (re)built in 2003 because he MIGHT have stayed on this hill while writing his first novel, "The Jumping Frog of Calaveras County". Quite a big trade in frogs and Twain paraphernalia in these parts. The old gold rush towns are pretty cool, varying between towns developed to attract weekend traffic from the Bay Area, and towns that are rundown with very little going on -- shades of small Ohio towns with no jobs. Nice to spend a couple days with the Sparkster and the Williams-Collins', and sharing their refuge from the city......Back to SF on Sunday night for time with Denise and her gorgeous 9-month old baby boy Dino. What a lovely, happy child, and great to see his mom in fine form as well. Motherhood is doing her good. We had a semi-pricey but only adequate dinner at Luna Park on Valencia Street, where we masqueraded in a photo as "that nice lesbian couple" for someone's parents who were visiting. A couple drinks and a music swap with EM at the 500 Club and then it was off to bed......
And by Monday night, I was back in Brooklyn, the visit reconfirming for me that I do not want to live in SF again. Great to visit, surely miss my peeps out there, a gorgeous and a liveable big city, but living in Crackpotville is just not for me. (I really think SF has the highest rate of people who talk to themselves in public in the world) I can't quite put my finger on it, as to why I was so happy there once but now know that it's not where I want to be. I think I miss the edge and confrontation of NYC when I'm away, and while that gets tiresome too, I still find it invigorating and know that it's my home. I'm more comfortable here. Something about SF makes me want to tell racist jokes just to tweak the liberalist-of-liberal attitudes that come with California. And not that I disagree with the attitudes, but walking the PC party line all the time wears me out and makes me contrary. Lastly, I find myself wondering after a week of nostalgia for times past and renewing friendships, do old friends know you the best, or only know who you once were? And how do you absorb each others' changes, but still retain your connection?
Friday, March 24, 2006
San Francisco is a lady?
"Chicago is the great American city,
New York is one of the capitals of the world,
and Los Angeles is a constellation of plastic;
San Francisco is a lady~"
Norman Mailer, author and frequent visitor
Monday found me on the dreaded Haight Street, location of my first non-Ohio apartment in 1991 with Mikey and Craig at 1462 Haight btw Ashbury and Masonic. We each paid $231 for rooms in the 2-bedroom apartment, working part-time jobs and knitting together our own family, often to a Seattle soundtrack and copious amounts of intoxicants. Man, the building is super rundown but maybe it always was and we were too young to care. Onward down the St Mark's of SF, always chock-full of burnouts, scammers and smelly people to the finest record store in America, Amoeba Records. They have everything, and thus picked up Jolie Holland, the newest Mary J., The Decemberists (mistake), an older Patti Griffin and the Isobel Cambell/Mark Lanegan album......Dinner found me at Los Jarritos, a colorful and delicious family-run Mexican restaurant on South Van Ness, eating with the always exceptional and enlightening Eric Moffat.
After dinner, we walked over to my old stomping grounds, the Latin American Club on 22nd, where several acquaintances who hung out there 10 years ago still sat, and conversation turned to the apparently popular SF topic of 9/11 conspiracy theories. We retired to Eric's home for a smoke, while swapping inappropriate stories about, ahem, "otherly-abled" persons, and amusing tales of public girl-on-girl action in Texas (Eric having just returned from SXSW). At about 11:30, I realized that our conversation had already been the best it could get, in my favorite EM style, so it was time to go back to Jen's.
On Tuesday, I made my regular trip to a San Francisco landmark, Swan Oyster Depot, my favorite oyster bar ever, and a place I wish for when I think of SF. The six brothers and their family who have run these 19 stools in welcoming and impeccable fashion since 1912 do it right -- no frills and with the freshest of seafood, plus family banter behind the counter thrown in for free. A perfect meal of a dozen oysters, a bowl of NE clam chowder and two Anchor Steams makes me giddy with pleasure, and immediately want to return the instant I step back onto Polk Street.
Out to Ton Kiang on Geary Street between 21/22nd for Wednesday lunch, a big giant GORGE of dim sum with the Beldens. I ate so much I couldn't do anything after the food expanded in my stomach but go lay down for the rest of the day. It's all the dim sum dumplings and fried goodness I've tasted, only much better quality and somehow lighter than the old-school dim sum places in NYC. It's as if the places in NYC were still cooking in a 50s do-wop style, while Ton Kiang is more early 80's new wave style. And no, you really CAN'T this good of dim sum anywhere in NYC, including Flushing......Back to the LAC on Wednesday night with the company of the Jens, the sass of the ParkerandAmy/Gibbs Mo crew and a hiliariously self-deprecating and filthy Mark Eitzel. Several drinks were drunk before going to 12 Galaxies to change our scenery by hiding upstairs from the obnoxious Japanese band DMBQ.
"What fetched me instantly (and thousands of other newcomers with me) was the subtle but unmistakable sense of escape from the United States."~H.L. Mencken, writer
New York is one of the capitals of the world,
and Los Angeles is a constellation of plastic;
San Francisco is a lady~"
Norman Mailer, author and frequent visitor
Monday found me on the dreaded Haight Street, location of my first non-Ohio apartment in 1991 with Mikey and Craig at 1462 Haight btw Ashbury and Masonic. We each paid $231 for rooms in the 2-bedroom apartment, working part-time jobs and knitting together our own family, often to a Seattle soundtrack and copious amounts of intoxicants. Man, the building is super rundown but maybe it always was and we were too young to care. Onward down the St Mark's of SF, always chock-full of burnouts, scammers and smelly people to the finest record store in America, Amoeba Records. They have everything, and thus picked up Jolie Holland, the newest Mary J., The Decemberists (mistake), an older Patti Griffin and the Isobel Cambell/Mark Lanegan album......Dinner found me at Los Jarritos, a colorful and delicious family-run Mexican restaurant on South Van Ness, eating with the always exceptional and enlightening Eric Moffat.
After dinner, we walked over to my old stomping grounds, the Latin American Club on 22nd, where several acquaintances who hung out there 10 years ago still sat, and conversation turned to the apparently popular SF topic of 9/11 conspiracy theories. We retired to Eric's home for a smoke, while swapping inappropriate stories about, ahem, "otherly-abled" persons, and amusing tales of public girl-on-girl action in Texas (Eric having just returned from SXSW). At about 11:30, I realized that our conversation had already been the best it could get, in my favorite EM style, so it was time to go back to Jen's. 
On Tuesday, I made my regular trip to a San Francisco landmark, Swan Oyster Depot, my favorite oyster bar ever, and a place I wish for when I think of SF. The six brothers and their family who have run these 19 stools in welcoming and impeccable fashion since 1912 do it right -- no frills and with the freshest of seafood, plus family banter behind the counter thrown in for free. A perfect meal of a dozen oysters, a bowl of NE clam chowder and two Anchor Steams makes me giddy with pleasure, and immediately want to return the instant I step back onto Polk Street. Out to Ton Kiang on Geary Street between 21/22nd for Wednesday lunch, a big giant GORGE of dim sum with the Beldens. I ate so much I couldn't do anything after the food expanded in my stomach but go lay down for the rest of the day. It's all the dim sum dumplings and fried goodness I've tasted, only much better quality and somehow lighter than the old-school dim sum places in NYC. It's as if the places in NYC were still cooking in a 50s do-wop style, while Ton Kiang is more early 80's new wave style. And no, you really CAN'T this good of dim sum anywhere in NYC, including Flushing......Back to the LAC on Wednesday night with the company of the Jens, the sass of the ParkerandAmy/Gibbs Mo crew and a hiliariously self-deprecating and filthy Mark Eitzel. Several drinks were drunk before going to 12 Galaxies to change our scenery by hiding upstairs from the obnoxious Japanese band DMBQ.
"What fetched me instantly (and thousands of other newcomers with me) was the subtle but unmistakable sense of escape from the United States."~H.L. Mencken, writer
Thursday, March 23, 2006
The coldest winter I ever spent...*
I'm in San Francisco this week, eating my way across the city and catching up with lots of old friends. Although I haven't lived here since June of 1996, some of my favorite people and restaurants remain. It's been a great, relaxing, filling time in a fantastic food town, and maybe the only place I could come to visit, and feel like I'm still at home while simultaneously being on vacation.
I headed off the plane on Saturday afternoon, straight into brunch with AnnandDerek and Jen at Foreign Cinema on Mission Street. Always making an appearance on friends' recommendation lists of "Good restaurants that have opened since I last visited" (although I think it's been open 7 years?) sitting outside here in the secluded screening area on a sunny Mission day complimented the bloodys and small-plate, pretty brunch. One cannot go wrong with Duck served with poached egg.....Saturday night found myself and the Jens Janian and Moffitt in North Beach dining at Bocadillos, a Spanish tapas place. Sixty-five dollars per person included 2-$40 bottles of California Grenache, with the food highlights including grilled quail, and big ol' shrimps-with-the- heads-on, and a pintxos bocadillo of chorizo with a walnut parsley spread.
Sunday was shopping on Fillmore Street at Jeremy's, a great spot for discounted designer clothing. (I scored a pair of green Sigerson Morrison flats for $155 SIZE 12 so they fit! whee!) Lunch on 16th Street at my favorite falafel place ever in Truly Mediterranean, where $5.95 gets you hippy food fleshed out by grilled eggplant and potatoes wrapped up in lavash. Fabulous and filling......Dinner and the second episode of the Sopranos at AnnandDerek's (aka the Cleans, aka the Beldens) Victorian manor on Oak Street was the best part of the day. Dinner was prepared by the supremely talented former chef, current food stylist and artist Ms. Belden making us a savory osso bucco, with the continually charming Mr. Clean providing great conversation and much laughter.
*...was a summer in San Francisco." So said Mark Twain, and that truism remains. Damn, no wonder I left. Its so often a bone-chilling, damp cold in SF. Get some insulation and heaters in your houses, people!
I headed off the plane on Saturday afternoon, straight into brunch with AnnandDerek and Jen at Foreign Cinema on Mission Street. Always making an appearance on friends' recommendation lists of "Good restaurants that have opened since I last visited" (although I think it's been open 7 years?) sitting outside here in the secluded screening area on a sunny Mission day complimented the bloodys and small-plate, pretty brunch. One cannot go wrong with Duck served with poached egg.....Saturday night found myself and the Jens Janian and Moffitt in North Beach dining at Bocadillos, a Spanish tapas place. Sixty-five dollars per person included 2-$40 bottles of California Grenache, with the food highlights including grilled quail, and big ol' shrimps-with-the- heads-on, and a pintxos bocadillo of chorizo with a walnut parsley spread.
Sunday was shopping on Fillmore Street at Jeremy's, a great spot for discounted designer clothing. (I scored a pair of green Sigerson Morrison flats for $155 SIZE 12 so they fit! whee!) Lunch on 16th Street at my favorite falafel place ever in Truly Mediterranean, where $5.95 gets you hippy food fleshed out by grilled eggplant and potatoes wrapped up in lavash. Fabulous and filling......Dinner and the second episode of the Sopranos at AnnandDerek's (aka the Cleans, aka the Beldens) Victorian manor on Oak Street was the best part of the day. Dinner was prepared by the supremely talented former chef, current food stylist and artist Ms. Belden making us a savory osso bucco, with the continually charming Mr. Clean providing great conversation and much laughter.
*...was a summer in San Francisco." So said Mark Twain, and that truism remains. Damn, no wonder I left. Its so often a bone-chilling, damp cold in SF. Get some insulation and heaters in your houses, people!
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