Make Food Not War

Yes, it's ridiculous....ANOTHER ONE! So here it is, you can find my restaurant musings and cook-at-home exploits here:

http://foodnotwar.blogspot.com

Goodbye Ruby Tuesday, Goodbye Music

I'm out of practice...

I miss writing mean. It's really been hard since I "moved" to LA since the move has pretty much cut me off from all things I ever cared about enough to hate. I've been so busy that I haven't had time to keep up with things - I don't feel like I know enough about the people I hate anymore to write something substantially horrible about them.

Wow. That's depressing.

I mean, I didn't even know David Beckham was moving to LA until he was pretty much already here! I spent the last 3-4 years obsessively hating that man and I DIDN'T even know that he would be here?? Unforgivable!! Of course, I am a little creeped out...I don't want to make a deal out of it but I couldn't help but notice - David Beckham does seem to be following me everywhere. 5 years ago, Real Madrid announce that they'd be visiting HK as part of their pre-season tour and guess who conveniently joins the team right before the tour starts? David Beckham. Now, I've decided to let all things pass and move to LA...guess who decides to also move to sunny California? David Beckham. I don't think it's me being paranoid! Damn...the price of being me.

But I'm in America now. And in America, they don't care about soccer (aka. British football) and so they don't care about Beckham either. So, being as forever-adaptable as I am, I've realised...whoops, my bad, I've realiZed that I'd need to find something else to hate. Something American.

Believe me, it's a hard task. Of course, I'm not saying I don't hate anything...I hate pretty much everything...but here, everyone's so wrought up about being "Politically Correct" that I feel like I need to tip-fucking-toe around everything.

So I turn to the one thing I have - the one thing I have enough confidence to write about:
Music.

Of course, I've been falling behind with regards to music as well. I guess, I just don't have the time to sift through dust bins of old records anymore so finding good old stuff has been harder. It also seems like America doesn't want to stock up on Q magazine and so finding good new stuff has gotten harder too...fuck - finding anything has gotten harder!

But that's talking about good stuff. We're not interested in the good stuff right now.

I've been spending some time listening to the radio these days. It makes me feel old...I don't 'get' young people music anymore. Who the fuck are “Hellogoodbye”? That’s a serious question from me – who the hell are they? Why are young people always talking about them? Are they any good? I could ask these same questions for pretty much all the bands that are blasting from the I-pod/Zune of the average hipster-kid-of-today. To me, The Strokes are still the “coolest new band” around (their debut album was in 2001). That’s how far behind I am now. I should’ve just ended it there and accepted the fact that there would be no point in trying to “catch up” to the cool kids anymore. But noooo…I had to learn the hard and painful way.

That hard and painful way came about when I took the tip from Nylon Magazine to check out Kiiiiiii (7 i’s, thank you very much). GIGANTO-MEGA-HUGE mistake. While Nylon raved about them and called them the “coolest, most unique, and most colorful group” (something along those lines) I could honestly say that I enjoyed no part of the act. Let me sum it up for you: two girls in rainbow clothes + no tune + screaming + “5 little monkeys jumping on the bed” = Kiiiiiii. Really. It was horrible and I could feel the performance inflicting actual, physical pain on me. Yet, while I was reeling in horror at the performance, the people in the youtube clip seemed to be genuinely amazed by the performance. One person even left a comment: “Pure genius!”. OK…whoever that person was, he/she has REALLY low standards. Yes, Kiiiiiii were “colorful” – but if it was color I was looking for, I might as well just stare at a bag of jellybeans.

So yes, after that episode, I decided to throw in the towel and accept the fact that I can no longer appreciate young people music. The American hipster kids can have their “OK Go” and I’ll stick to my Jackson Browne and Stan Getz. And if they ever try to make me feel uncool, I’ll just tell them that I listen to the Strokes. Hopefully, that’s still counted as being young people music.


(Say hello to the coolest "new" band: The Strokes)

The Same Old Fear

Nowadays, I find it hard to distinguish between things that I want and things that I don’t want. All I know for sure is that I want to go back home. It’s funny when I think about it: I’ve been lying under the sky I’ve been used to, all the time not knowing that I was getting used to it. It’s the only place that makes sense.

...And in a world that doesn’t make any sense, that means a whole fucking lot.

I don’t know what the next step should be. I want this to be over – this part that doesn’t mean anything. I’m so tired of this. I'm counting down the months, counting down the days. But I wonder if it's supposed to be like this. It just doesn't feel quite right and I don't really like it. I don't really like how this time that is passing by might as well not be passing by.

I just need one thing…but I don’t know what it is. And I know that it’s all futile…to wish for people to see what can’t be seen; to think about possibilities that are impossible. And I get the feeling that I would rather dissolve. Dissolve to stop this feeling…dissolve to feel under control. Because that’s what I’m not: under control.

Turns out, I’m in the exact same place. I never did find a way to get to the other side. I’d see the boats every time I passed by on the bus, but I just couldn’t work out a way to actually get there. It’s always been in the mornings…or when I could make sure that no one knew where I was. I guess that it’s only then that things feel alright. But it sounds awful selfish.

I just feel as if I’ve been asking the same question over and over and over again but never really getting an answer:

Are you there? Are you there? Are you dead?

What are you going to do? Maybe I’m just not thinking too clearly now. Let’s hope a drink will make things better.

(Some things DO make me happy: Uhm, ya...I'm a HUGE sucker for Doris Day and Rock Hudson)