and Thursdays are....

Weird - work Sunday through Tuesdays, off Weds, and then back for Thursday, and then off for Friday Saturday, which is, to be fair; a pretty awesome schedule. What would be even better, is if my days back from being gone didn't follow HWSBF's days in pantry, because, he sucks. He's lazy, and apparently a little dim. Also, shades of Fernando in just the overall disaster the station is left in. When I follow Anita, on Sundays, everything is like I leave it, stocked, ready to go, a coherent list of prep. After Him, it's horrendous. But, I have high expectations of those I work with, so GMB had to really, really push me to get me to make a list of the bullshit.
Because, I'm not the first to notice it. Anita made a point of telling me she has the same issues with him.
Whatever. The flip side is that my food is pure awesome, and when I have my station ready, there is nothing I cannot do. Though I was running the pizza oven at 600 degrees tonight, so I toasted a couple of them while doing desserts. Kind of got a little out of control tonight though, trying to tie up all the loose ends. And some late tables made me a bit cranky towards the end, so I didn't hang out tonight & chat with BarMat - I was just a bit too whipped, to be honest. He didn't offer a 2nd beer, and I didn't ask. Home to sleep, cause I have a boatload of stuff to do tomorrow.
Timing is still being worked out at work though. What I really appreciate, is that GMB makes a point to say "Good work" before he leaves at night, at least to me, pretty much every shift - that little shit matters. Appreciation matters. I knocked out a shitload of prep, both baking and savory today - and all my plates tonight (including some special stuff for the food tour group) looked stellar, and tasted fantastic, cheesecake is selling like crazy - 3 to go orders!. I asked if I could come in early on Sundays to do more dessert prep, and Garrett said he'd work on getting me a key. And then, and the end of service he sidles up to me and says "So; I have foie scraps: pate, or sauce?" And I, being the one who plates antipasti, and likes to have cool toys says:"Pate" then I hedge "But, I do have a that book about foie, and it has a recipe for foie oreos that I've always wanted to try" and he gets nose-to-nose with me and says "Ahhh, s'mores! Your graham crackers, a foie fluff....and..." I suggest a fruit jam & chocolate shavings...and he's like "YES. You are in again, when? Tuesday? Let's do that then, I'll put the foie in the freezer tonight."
Yeah, that's the ticket. That's what I want to do: cool stuff. This shit is going to be awesome, and once I live downtown...well, it will be perfect, so tired of driving home already. I am so stoked right now, feeling really motivated, creative and just present. So completely different from being in SF. Similar to being in good restos in Fresno, but without that CG-based angst, so...yeah, really amazing emotions flowing in this realm. Can't wait to get my gear out of storage and really hit the gas pedal on all of this. So many options. He has not said no to any ideas I've proffered so far (other than the bittersweet chocolate espresso cake, but i suspect i can bump his weak torte eventually, I'll make one, feed it to everyone, and that will be that).
Also, he asked me to dog/house-sit at the end of the month for he and his wife. Awesome! 2 dogs, house in Greenwood, 3 days. Sweet! Looking forward to it. I dig house sitting. A yard with a bbq, a deck, and two dogs?? Yay!

knowing is half the battle

  

yes, yes, yes.

just another wedensday.

 Started the day off watching Germany beat Holland in the 2nd game of the first round of the Euros. Even less fun watching the Orange lose this time to the Germans, though, Podolski, our newest acquisition is having a great tournament - here's hoping he stays in form for club play. I'm really stoked to find a pub to watch if my schedule stays the same - looking to make new Gunner pals, definitely!
A bit of apartment hunting, visit to the storage space to retrieve some more clothes, a kitchen timer and some other miscellaneous stuff, dinner at Hana, finally. It was, as Todd said "the same as ever" casual, quality, and affordable. Did a little stroll down Broadway, noting all the changes....still processing it all - had a side trip through Lake City, and was kind of astounded to find a Mini dealership there, among all the other new stuff, and also, the old venerable Italian place is gone, though Ming's is still alive and...well, still alive. Even just driving around, there is something so comforting about all the green, the trees, the residential neighborhoods with no sidewalks...yeah, I'm weird. Anyway, there seem to be a lot of options, living wise, so now it's just a matter of piling up first, last and deposit.

interactions with humans...

Tonight, after watching GMB almost cough up a lung on the line (I gave him my entire stash of Ricola cough drops, cause i know how hideous that bug is...) and finishing a pretty sedate night (got a lot of shit done, actually, which was cool. Best part:MB trying my coffee ice cream and going "Holy shit, that's amazing! Is that my recipe?" and, i of course had to tell him it was mine. RIGHT? Yeah. Also had pizzas dialed in like crazy tonight, which was awesome as well. I was finishing my shift beer when BarMatt (The Other Matt) engaged me in conversation, and plied me with beers...so I hung out. THIS is why it's good to work in a live restaurant. People to talk to. We had a spirited debate about the future of humankind, global policy, apartheid (!) and my political activism vs. his perceived activism. Interesting, and, ultimately we agreed on many things. Interesting cat, and, he pegged me at 40. Weird. I guess it's just that youthful exuberance? Yeah, something like that. Good dude though. I really love where I work. And they seem to dig me, so, you know, awesome. It's also interesting GMB and I have a really similar upbringing - same kid's shows, same cereals, same weird offhanded remarks, plus a really good conversation about food, every time. It's a shame he can't keep his hands off his phone on the line. CG would fucking DESTROY him. But, whatever. It's good fun, and tonight, my pizzas all ruled. So good. Did a roasted potato, blue cheese, other cheese, smoked proscuito, and shallot pie, and it sold like crazy and I even made GMB one and he loved it! Validation again! (I'm so simple, but it's like any craft, I guess) also, I did a hibiscus/grapefruit sorbet, but didn't run it tonight...maybe Thursday...yeah.

“ARE NOT THE THOUGHTS OF THE DYING OFTEN TURNED TOWARD THE PRACTICAL, PAINFUL, OBSCURE, VISCERAL ASPECT? TOWARD THE SEAMY SIDE OF DEATH WHICH IS, AS IT HAPPENS, THE SIDE THAT DEATH ACTUALLY PRESENTS TO THEM AND FORCES THEM TO FEEL, AND WHICH FAR MORE CLOSELY RESEMBLES A CRUSHING BURDEN, A DIFFICULTY IN BREATHING, A DESTROYING THIRST, THAN THE ABSTRACT IDEA TO WHICH WE ARE ACCUSTOMED TO GIVE THE NAME OF DEATH?”
… Danny, what the hell?
I’M SORRY. I MEANT “THANK YOU, THIS IS A WONDERFUL PARTY.”

(from animalstalkinginallcaps)

monday is the new friday...

got our asses kicked tonight at work, totally crazy busy, and just me and TMTM on the line, but we made it through, and celebrated with a delightful mojito and then beers. Lots of really constructive conversation, so it's feeling good....next: find place to live in city, or on seriously direct busline. Ideally, the first. That adventure starts at the beginning of next month. Yay.
Missing Scraps in weird, jagged pangs today. Dunno where it comes from sometimes, but still wrecks me....

Nephewpalooza and the aftermath...

Yeah, I earned my frigging Cool Aunt Wings this weekend. Unless you are Nephew #1 (let's go with N1, and this is totally based on birth order, not preference, which will become clear shortly) who is probably a bit pissed at me. However, to be honest: he was a jerk. And, since he's only 11.75, I'm gonna do all in my power to make sure he doesn't arrive at seventh grade a complete prick. So...you know, suck it up, kiddo.
Yeah. The 4 year old and I had a delightful day, until he renigged on his promise to clean the toys up off the floor in his room for and additional 5 minutes of computer time (I could have told him that was a bad deal, but, hell, he's 4, he has no conception of minutes at this point...gotta enjoy it before he starts bargaining in half-hour blocks) and we had to have a little "stop hyperventilating about having to do what you said you'd do. I'm not mad. But you made a deal, and now you are breaking it" (his dad uses the term "deal" so I went with it. Fucking hippies. Between that and the older brother who is paying the price for "We don't say "no" to him, because it hurts his feelings" I am on fire right now as all the chickens come home to roost at once.
Ultimately Nephew #3 (again, birth order, not preference) calmed down and told me he needed help. I said, that was perfectly ok, he just needed to TELL ME that, and not scream like an injured badger. So, he asked for help, and we cleaned his room, and no tears were shed. And I got to tell him it was ok to ask for help, that I wasn't mad at him, which, for those of us going through YEARS of THERAPY; is helpful to hear WHEN YOU ARE 3. It's a real hassle when you are 43.
Ah, yeah. So there's that. Otherwise, it was awesome, we made banana bread, played robot wars, sword fight, and built legos. We watched classic Disney (because I will not abide by the ne pap Disney nonsense. Give me Pluto chasing Chip 'n Dale, or give me nothing!), and ultimately, the Germany vs. Portugal game of the first round of the Euros, in which of course N3 took Portugal as his team (I know, that Ronaldo, he's a doll), but ultimately he got bored, and his parents came home, and I showered and headed to Round #2: the Moto Boys.
Argh. I did this thing where I said I'd sit in exchange for a haircut from their mom, who used to cut my hair. I apparently forgot how half assed she is about it, not much change in style. Anyway. N1 was monoploizing the conversation, mostly about his most current (and most damaging) injury to his arm. He cut nerves this time, if he jacks up recovery, he could lose the use of half his right hand. Brilliant. I won't even go into how stupid the antics were that led to this, but will say he wasn't racing. Ultimately though, the night started well, we trolled cable looking for a movie to watch, the boys bickered a bit, I made pizza and salad from scratch (they don't get actual cooking much). We played poker (5 card draw, blackjack, and something they referred to as "indian poker") ultimately, N1 won more than N2 and I, but whatever, it's just a game, and we all had a good time. The computer beckoned, ultimately, and N2 went up to play, and N1 with his damaged arm, can't really play full speed, so he was just in there, dinking around. When I went up, he was perusing his father's yearbooks....which was odd, and...I'll detail offline. But suffice to say: probably not awesome to let your 11 year old son read your yearbook. Generally. But especially if you had a paranoid, clingy girlfriend.
Anyway, somehow, ultimately a random comment about facebook got N1 fired up and he started using his i-Touch to take crap photos of me and calling me names, and saying he would post them on facebook. So I shut the night down (we were about an hour from designated bedtime anyway) and took N2 downstairs, leaving N1 to sit in his finely appointed room (i-touch/internet/dvd player) alone. Me and N2, who immediately crowed "I've been waiting for this all night, when N1 gets in trouble" (!) and I popped some corn, watched some horrible show called i-Carley, and then used a kit he had to make bubble gum (watermelon mint, for those wondering.....) and then I put him to bed as well.
It was a long night, but I ended it with a delightful cocktail and watching my beloved Arsenal on the big (seriously big, like 72" of big) screen, as FSC replayed a champs league game from early in the season at midnight.
That's right, my brother and his wife, who were suppposed to be home "around 10" rolled in at 1a.m..
He was shocked I was still awake; and I was all: do you know what I do for a living? At all?
But I didn't say that, cause what's the point.
Anyway, and then today, show up at work at 2pm, ready to do a shitload of prep, especially desserts, and no one is at the restaurant. No one shows up until 3:30.
So angry. But it was mitigated by TMTM pulling me from pantry prep and just having me do desserts, and then when my pals Debra and Lisa came in (and they brought another friend, woot!) I sent out apps, a pizza, they bought entrees, and I sent a dessert sampler. Got to visit the table a couple of times and it was awesome. So good to have people in, I have missed that so much. The rest of the night was a mess, having the Guy Who Should Be Fired still there is annoying, but, you know, whatever. I've been through this before, so I can certainly do it again. The ladies loved their dinner, and I had a decent night. Tomorrow will be way better. TMTM is awesome, and I always look forward to working with him. I got to meet his wife last week, and she's rad, so it's nice to have the circle expand. I dunno. Just take each day as it comes, really...but so happy to like my job again - though the lack of space fucking pisses me off from a dessert perspective, but y'now, whatever, I'll adapt, it just takes time to figure out how to make the space work.
yeah. and I got to listen to Riz on the way home. Dammit, I love this town. Gun-toting freaks be damned.

creme and sugar, personified

What is amazing sometimes, is how if you envision something you can make it happen. Now, I have yet to work this mojo with places to live, but with jobs? dammit. i made toasted farro ice cream today - his idea, my manipulation of ingredients, and it is pure awesome. THAT IS WHAT I HAVE WANTED.  A  fucking chef who says "hey, what about THIS?" and I say "ok" and make it awesome.
Fuck reprographics. Seriously. Yes, the hours are hard, and the cleaning is continual, but dammit, tonight, as a guy sat at my station and watched a chessecake go out and went ""Wow, that looks amazing, I'll have that" and then proceeded to text his girlfriend to show her? Yeah. I love that shit. Dunno, maybe it's the failed actor or director in me, but, goddmmit, i love when people go "Wow" and this isn't even the best iteration.
The GMB ate the buttermilk panna cotta I made, and wolfed it fucking down."That is incredible. I could eat the shit out of that" sooooo, clearly his palate leans towards the creme...good to know, cause that, thanks to CG is my forte. Though, I'm aching to do a caramel thing....anyway, still working on timing, but it's coming.
I love this city, but cannot wait to be close enough to use public transport. You fuckers drive like idiots. Holy shit. And the rain, STILL only makes it worse WTF Seattle? Jesus. I will say this, at least Californians know how to merge. Grrrr. Just a couple more weeks. Got some good leads, so will be looking into them shortly. Foot of Capitol Hill, I swear, but am seriously gonna take a look at the building Dawn and I were in so many years ago....they are renting and appear to be independant....so, fingers crossed and stuff.

night moves

It ended up being four for dinner last night - the Q's came too - and my face hurts from all the smiling and laughing - got to see their lovely office, on 12th, and visit with their delightful dog Fisher, an Aussie mix who's 13 now, but getting long quite well, if a little grey in the muzzle :)
When Ms Q asked where I was living and I said I'd be doing that next month, she grabbed my arm and was all "You have to move close to us!!" which would be awesome, but...they live on the Hill. North Cap, but still...sigh. Just don't think I could take that much hipster on a daily basis. We'll see.
Also, Saturday, went down to the Off Ramp (it's called El Corazon now, but it will forever be the Off Ramp to me, no matter what sign they hang or color they paint shit) to see KevSecs, and a few others play an all ages show. One of the other performers was Tim from the band Avail, who I hadn't seen in years - they were from Virginia, and we had played several times with them. It was fun, I got a chance to say hi once again to one of my favorite musicians, congratulate him on his van acquisition (he did a Kickstarter thing to raise money, and has been touring the shit out of the US ever since) and have a great, low-impact night.The all ages thing though - really amazing to be around that energy again, they don't seem as jaded as their 20-something big brothers, not as negative either...dare i say, a bit smarter? Dunno. Small, specialized sample in that room, certainly.

I am so happy to be back in a restaurant where when a regular customer mentions that he loves foie gras, and is bringing guests, GMB does an app. It wasn't the best, or most creative app i've ever seen (I even had a moment, where I got to regale him with tales of the foie gras sundaes, and literally, he leaned into me in disbelief. Pure fucking aweome), but sooooo good to be in this space. I feel like...damn I don't even have words right now...also, my very, very dear old pal Dawn, from Chicago is gonna come to town, and we are gonna hang out! She's gonna crash with me (just even more incentive to find an awesome spot) and I will get a tattoo that will fix the original Hopey one (which is getting blurry, and bothersome)....so stoked. Yeah. That's really all - I was going to pontificate about lackluster servers, and the heat of service (we were crazy busy tonight, but it was fun - even though I'm totalled right now), but mostly, I just want to sleep well, dream big, and have a good day tomorrow off - seeing Lia for sushi at some point, and beyond that? We'll see.

ephemera...

Just some random notes...great night tonight - just me andThe Matt that Matters (TMM) on the line, we got hit with a lot of tables, and everything went according to plan. Northwest debut of the CFC with apricots and red raspberry/red wine redueaux; hit with staff, but incompetent servers couldn't sell. What I wouldn't give to have Craig and Gena in this house. Hopefully, maybe Johnny will be on board tomorrow and he will be able to do it justice. Later, GMB came in on his day off, and while he refused to frigging try the CFC, he was willing to look at a photo. He'll look longingly at it tomorrow before I get there, surely :) He also made a point to give me kudos for my personal dinner pizza I was making, and also to take me aside, and...well, tell me how fucking awesome I am. Apparently, everyone has good things to say about me.
The reality: acting like a responsible adult goes a long way in this industry. Just saying. But....I have some love-based skillz.
Finally, another Kinko's alumni who has undergone some crucial change has made contact, and here's the thing about being back in my Town: my friends here are so varied, so diverse, so fucking talented. It's amazing to be back in their universe. I think I had a hard time in California thinking I had failed, based on choices I had made, but the reality is: my life is my own. What I have chosen is where I am. And you know what? I'm not ashamed. I am not sad. I love what I do, where I am, and who I know. Need to find place to live, but probably not until mid-July, tho as I keep plying my sister in law with desserts, my nephew with playing French and robot wars, and my brother with esoteric discussions about genetics and stuff, I should be fine. Schedule works great, and looks like I might actually get to see Chelsea play - it's not my Gunners but it's something....Euro-wise, Ireland and Croatia play on Sunday, at 11:30am...wonder if there are any IRE fans who'd be willing to hit a pub (George & Dragon are showing it live at 11:30am) before noon - I wouldn't have to be at work until 2:30...so it could be perfect....I mean, I couldn't have many beers, but maybe one would be ok...;) Plus, the Euros! Supposed to be way better matches than the World Cup, and I even enjoyed listening to those matches on the radio - stoked for the summer!

IF YOU STOP PLAYING HORRIBLE ACOUSTIC VERSIONS OF MODERN TOP 40 HITS I WILL LITERALLY GIVE YOU ALL THE MONEY I HAVE IN THE WORLD.
IT MEANS THAT MUCH TO ME.
PLEASE.

(from http://animalstalkinginallcaps.tumblr.com/)

Current schedule at new awesome job: Friday, Saturday, and Wednesday off!! Do you know how amazing that will be if it is still in place when Arsenal season starts?? So great. I will be closer to some pub, somewhere, to watch the games as intended, with other Gooners. Also, still working on maybe seeing Chelsea play Sounders in July. Miss my bi-polar footy boys already, hope they all have a safe Euro 2012.

funny cause it's true?

Oh, ok, You Tube, you win. Holy crap. Uncle.

another state of mind

Yep. This. Minchin is my hero. Again.There is something so punk rock about the way he approaches the piano, and then the intelligence and wit....dreamy :)
Tonight, GMB asked me to specifically to give him some new dessert ideas. Gonna bust out the creme fraiche cheesecake (which will grate CG's chain no end, should he happen to make contact again or react to the inevitable post I will do to document the PNW debut of my signature dessert) and also do a modified version of Tuscan Cannoli, and that is just the start...gallettes follow, and ice creams are on it as well....but seriously? Cannot believe how perfect this will be, once I get used to being actually busy (3 pizzas on a ticket? plus calzone trio? fuck you, bar menu :)
It's hard to describe how different I feel being in a place I love (and I don't just mean the restaurant, I mean this town, mindless random shootings notwithstanding) doing what I love, what I'm genuinely passionate about. Both GMB and TheOtherMatt are great to work with, and seem like they will happily trade ideas and techniques. GMB was all stoked and eyes glittery when I told him I made my own graham crackers - and I was equally taken with learning to roll and cut ravioli on Tuesday. I love learning new stuff, and most especially food oriented new stuff.
There's been a wave of grief for some of my pals losing a parent; first Karen, then Smitty and now it appears Lia's father is not doing well, and has gone into hospice - it's interesting how you get these cycles, and as much as I hate to welcome any more members into the Dead Parent Club, it's actually kind of centering to have gone through the process already, and to have an understanding for what your friends might be feeling.
One the flip side of that, are other phases people go through (now that I seem to be well past the wedding and baby shower phases, whew) with a spike of people in my life now with 3 and 4 year olds, (GMB has one, the nephew, drl, Balto Rob, etc) and then an interesting wave of people who had kids back in the day when I could (should?) have, who are now graduating high school (smrge, Tory, etc). Circle of Life, and all that.
 Hopefully, the words will come soon...

Want

http://laughingsquid.com/mixtape-a-cassette-tape-table-handcrafted-from-reclaimed-wood/

in other news...

What's really weird, is how ok everything has been. It's like I was meant to be here. Even now, as I listen to old Detonators songs (holy crap, "When you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything" just, epically, rocks. No wonder I was so willing to drive that AstroVan to the end of the Earth for those guys) and I drive home from a 12 hour shift at a job I quite admittedly love, (how great is that, I'm pretty sure it hasn't felt like that since early days of Lantana) even though it is, very possibly, the most physically taxing I've ever had - but dammit, I love it when I hear tables go "wow"; even if it's not my dish - I love that I'm on the same damn team with people who also make people go "wow".
I genuinely feel that, and want to always remember it, in case there comes a time when I can't remember that I made it through, that I'm ok with what happens as you work at love, when you go ahead and follow your heart even though sometimes the results aren't what you expect. I'm not going to stop loving, because it's worth it. The pain and the joy. It's all life is, really. Pain and joy. That in between nonsense? That is quite clearly limbo, and I don't want any part of it. Period. I will take each day as it happens. I will enjoy each moment that is given, and if the moments are painful, I will work to learn and move through it.
So, then, this: Mom and I swung by Dad's gravesite on Saturday. I hadn't been in quite a while. It wasn't clear how long it had been until we got there, and I saw that the tree next to him that was just a sapling the last 2 times I'd been there was now a fucking serious, real, TREE. Yikes. There were all sorts of new housing tracts and development in the area, but to be honest, that hasn't really fazed me. But that fucking tree? Holy shit. Time and trees is serious business, and there is no greater indicator of time passing than the transformation of a little sapling into an actual tree.
Yeah. Also, that 4 year old (well, he'll be 4 next month, so we might as well get used to saying it) is quite a wonder. He's taken a liking to the "Learn French" app on my i-phone. He and i play it together almost every day i see him. It's awesome; he crawls into my lap, and says "let's play the French game" and we proceed to play word games to learn french. awesome. then we play robot wars. or guns. or crazy8s...it's all quite good. The other nephews, who i don't see as much, are ok, though the oldest just nearly lopped off his right arm, and he wasn't even racing, he was dicking around with the starting gate at the track that he frequents and that his father (my brother) volunteers at - that's right, running the starting gate.
I have this secret belief the #1 nephew is purposely injuring himself to remove himself from racing forever...though i know that's silly...still. Meanwhile, nephew #2: I went and was audience to him being part of his class chorus performance - apparently he was supposed to have a solo, but when the music teacher (and may I take a moment to mention how every music teacher I have ever known, right down to ms. cohee in 4th grade has been a total jerk? a complete egomaniac, and most of all, usually so prone to favoritism that even a nine year old knows when they are being slighted? Yeah. Not just one nine year old, as a matter of fact, but eight of us...but that's a story for another time ((actually probably only for a therapist TBD....)) was told that #2 would miss the evening performance because he had a race to attend, she pulled him completely from the two-show program, so no afternoon performance for his mom, aunts and grandma, and...well, she's really lucky I didn't follow her into the parking lot. Honestly, what a cow. 
Ok, that's a serious digression. What it does mean though, is that I'm happy to be part of the family again, and I very much dig my job, and the people I work with, I totally seem to have really found pretty much the most perfect fit I could imagine (though, again, small owners, no bennies, but at least they've been open for a few years now), and my friends are pretty damn cool too. Mostly though, I adore being in a city I know, that is familiar, and that I feel comfortable in - it's still quite hard to describe, as it's not a Pollyanna "Yay! Seattle Is Awesome!!" thing, but in a much more "ah, yeah, I know what that is, I know who they are, I know how this works" kind of thing.
Random neighborhood shootings aside though. Not sure what is with all the white anger, but i see it in traffic, in parking lots, in grocery stores....it's odd when I come off sounding like the hippie telling people to relax.
Also: misfired pizza and copper river salmon for dinner to take home, after a lovely chat over our shift drinks with the sous chef and a server who is in the running for Daniel's crown?  Awesome. So Happy. I can't even remember having so many ducks in a row...next up: find a new, great place to live.

Oh, Seattle, as much as you've changed, there's still plenty that's the same. Still have the most tame homeless folk in the country, the worst parking, crappy drivers (seriously, I have seen more accidents and near accidents in the last 14 days than I saw in 4 years in the Bay Area, and also, why all the snotty looks and cranky hand gestures? Makes one nostalgic for the ghetto mamas in their SUVs who were completely oblivious to everything around them...almost) - and you still have on-ramps to the I-5 in all the places I remember them, one way streets right where I left them, and most of all - Michael's Market/Deli, just off Fairview, still right there where I need it, all night. How delightful to go in there, grab a bottle of wine, and stand behind the biker couple who were debating which condoms to buy...and there's still a late night Subway next door - not that I'd ever eat there ever again, but it's kind of nice to know some things NEVER change. Back in the day (yup, I'm that person...) Dawnie G and I would wander over there to buy a couple of bottles of cheap champagne and I would buy a pack of clove cigarettes - because apparently, I couldn't wait to do damage to my lungs then, so that now, 25 years later, I can take 12 days to get over a flu virus....anyway, to the best of my recollection that was the first place that ever sold me booze, and while I'd like to believe it's the same surly Asian college student serving me, I'm pretty sure it can't possibly be: that dude would be like....my age now :)
Anyway. Still frigging sick, still sore throat and coughy, but fever seems to have subsided, so that's a plus. Got to work most of the night with Chef GMB, as he let He Who I Will Be Replacing But Hasn't Been Fired Yet go home early tonight - and it was awesome. I jacked a pizza early on, but re-fired it quick like, and asked for help when I needed it. He and I have a similar sense of humor, and best of all - he's matter-of-fact when he needs to be, and easy going when he can be. He ran the filet trim I did last week as an app tonight, "beef crudo" and sold it out: full on awesome. Just goes to show you that if you are creative, there is no loss in product - because I didn't screw the meat up, I just had a bit more trim than I should have, but it worked great for that preparation: so people actually got something awesome because I kind of fucked up - but again, since I hadn't done that for years, getting one less than I was supposed to: not too shabby. It was nice to see it being sold, at any rate. My pizza special of the day didn't sell much, but pizza business was slow in general (oddly) though I did get to do a mini calzone trio (boooo, lame app, stupid bar menu) but overall, and in the end, I got a "great job" and a fist bump (...) as GMB left. It turns out, he's also only been cooking pro for 5 years...so, there's that. Interesting stuff, and after another week, I'm looking forward to inviting people I know in. Probably start doing dessert menu items next month, and....and, well, it all seems good. I was a little panicky last week, a bit overwhelmed and mostly deathly ill - but it's settling out. Now, to get some paychecks stashed away so I can move into the city. I'd like to be somewhere at the foot of either Hill, or maybe something in that South Lake Union/Belltown-ish area....or, maybe north again, on a quick and constant busline...'cause I'm already over driving. Anyway, off for the next couple of days, hoping to do some real writing, check in on family (that I don't live with), and maybe go see a movie or something...who knows? Singer guy and I were supposed to meet up, but then he had work stuff in LA, so not sure what will happen with that next. Oh, am also reading the Cherie Currie bio, as Jules loaned it to me. haven't met up with Debra yet, but looking forward to that as soon as her Actual Job Holding/Grad Student self has some time....and, uh, still working on touching base with Xerox Rodney and some sort of ad-hoc Kinko's reunion...summer beckons...wow, I might be able to go to Bumbershoot at least one day this year....which would probably be all I could tolerate anyway...hrmmmm.
Also, yeah, I still miss smrge.

simple distractions

Golly, where to start? Arsenal finished third in the league, by the skin of our teeth, but it means that the summer won't be quite as horrendous as it might have been. I'm sad that Bacary is injured again, and that there seems to be more of an issue with Jack's ankle, but still, hopefully both of them sitting out the Euros will mean they are in far better shape for the start of the season.
To be honest though, football is taking a backseat to my real life right now. Go figure. This new job? Holy shit, I'm really pretty damn good. Now, I did scorch some candied hazlenuts today, but on the flip, I fucking rocked a ridiculous meatball recipe (seriously, it was dictated to me in handfulls and "some" of ingredients) and then the coupe de gras: I fucking trimmed and portioned out a tenderloin mid-service, on the fly. Which means, I had no warning when chef looks across the line and says "YOU, you know how to trim a tenderloin?"
I say "It's been a really long time."
He says "Can you do it now?"
I say, of course, because it's ingrained in me via CG: yes chef.
He says set up a station: there are two in there, but I need one now. NOW.
Let me just take a moment and say that the only times I have ever trimmed a fucking tenderloin of beef (one of the most expensive items a restaurant can buy, it's where your filet steaks come from) has been at 2pm, hours before service, when I've got no other prep and the line needs an extra pair of hands.
However, the fucking crazy ass intensity of a certain ChefGuy clearly made and impression. It literally has been over 6 years since I'd done this job, but dammit, it came back. And, given the remarks made by Garrett, I did pretty fucking ok. Then he asked me to portion it. Now, see, here's the thing about portioning a piece of meat: it's about a foot and a half long, it is about 4 inches wide at it's widest and then tapers gradually to the tail. When cutting it into 8oz pieces the first cut is crucial, and I should have started from the back. Oh well. Ultimately, I only wasted one, and we can do a tartare with it, but not fucking bad for a pastry chef. I was over the fucking moon. When Garrett came back and said, it looked fine, no more trimming (he did give me shit about using my chef's knife, but fuck, I didn't have my filet and didn't see a house one) and asked point blank:
"When was the last time you did that?" I said, probably about 2006 or so (probably earlier, but i don't need him to know that) and he was like "Really nice work."
They let me cut out early because it was slow, which is ok for now. The plan is for me to solo on Monday. I fucking cannot wait. Seriously. I love my work. It is so nice to be genuinely good at something, and to be among people who are on the same page. There are little things, but it is so amazingly similar to Upstairs that I can barely contain myself most moments. The waitsaff is actually better, but it's so amazingly good.
Oh. I forgot, there was one thing today: Seattle drivers suck. A lot. I had no idea how spoiled I was living in California. Sweet mother of kevin seconds, what a mess. Almost got squashed like a bug in a pileup today, but luckily guided the trusty Punk Rock soccer mom car to the edge of the road and around the idiot in the BMW.

Also, really, really miss Hopey right now. 

It's a done deal, I have a new culinary home with a lot of potential. I also got a job way sooner than anticipated, which means I should be able to move out of the brother's space way sooner than expected as well. Already have my eye on a place that lives in my personal history and is within walking distance of the job. That would be cool. Let's just hope the building isn't crawling with skinheads anymore. Beyond that, lots of connecting with pals who know me. Who love me. Who genuinely care about how I feel, what I'm interested in, and what I'm passionate about. I like knowing people, and I like people knowing me, which is a huge emotional shift in my personal being, but a welcome one. I want to share with smrge, but he is choosing not to be involved now, and so, I go on, doing what I do, following the path I've chosen, and waiting to discover where it will lead me. Talked to Karen today, and as always, a good, grounding conversation, and soon, K2 will be here and visit my new place. I can't wait for them to be sitting in my home restaurant again, and to send them food and to introduce them to the house. I am so amazingly grateful to have them in my life. I really love Seattle so much. Being down in Pioneer Square last night, was fantastic, seeing my friend's business come to life, hanging out with people I have decades of history with. This city is in my bloodstream and I can't wait for next season and to watch footy here, to meet new Gooners, to live this life I have, no matter what the rollercoaster brings. Ya gotta love 'em, your fucking friends....

back of the house

...there are few things that have been more satisfying in my life than walking into a new kitchen and killing it. I'm still waiting for the final job offer, but going in on Saturday to Branzino, a small high-end rustic Italian place that does a lot of seafood and seasonal pizzas I was full on nervous. It's been four years since I was on a real line of any kind, and I had told Chef Garrett that from the get-go. He appreciated the honesty, and invited me in that evening to trail (also known as a "stage"). I got a raft of good wishes from pals, even CG told me I'd do fine, and I did. Sure, I noticed every frigging thing I dropped (a hunk of cheese, my sharpie, whipped cream....) and when I scorched the side of a pizza (I have never used an actual open hearth pizza oven, it was crazy intense, but fun) I wanted to die. It's a small kitchen, in both in space and in staff. What it reminded me most of was that First Kitchen I was in with CG, where we had a lot more space, but the same amount of staff, and the same passion for the food, and the best quality product as well. Additionally, one of my goals this time around was to get back in a kitchen where the actual chef is there every night cooking. The station I would work would be right beside him, and when I missed an element (I forgot the lemon wedge on a ceasar) he was completely matter of fact, not rude, not condescending. His rapport with his team seems friendly, but respectful, and they all are committed to turning out great stuff.
The big challenge was the pizzas, which is ironic, since it's something I actually do on my own time frequently. He had asked if I had experience and I said doing small lunch-pizzas, but never with an oven, but was pretty sure my comfort level with working with dough and knowing how elements work together, it would simply be a matter of getting the muscle memory of pulling the dough and the timing of the cooking. I sweated it, but at the end of the night, when we sat to discuss, and he told me that he was impressed with how well I did with the pizzas in particular, I was flying. So frigging happy. Because of course, I had focused on every little thing I didn't get right...I really do love this job and it's immediacy. I like that it's like a performance every night when you work in a live restaurant, and it felt so good to be in a position that was familiar to me: pastry and pantry, starting the people off, and being the finale as well - it's where I am most comfortable, and this spot is probably as close to perfect as I could walk into after being so long out of the kitchen.
On top of the comfort level of the kitchen, and affinity for the food (I had the beet salad locked in after one go, because, after all, it was beaten into me by David and Sharon years ago: respect the beets) there was the front of the house. It's always a sketchy thing in a small kitchen, but all the waitstaff seemed smart, confident, and interested in the food and wine they were presenting. It's huge for me, after being spoiled with fantastic servers at 5 and Lantana, and then dealing with college student hacks at Pangea. They were all really welcoming as well, and one of the owners was even bartending that night (though I didn't know he was an owner until the chef told me later, which speaks volumes. You never find owners who aren't chefs working in their restaurants, and certainly to find one who doesn't immediately point himself out to you as "owner" is even more rare). When I sat to have my shift meal (a pasta carbonara with duck - chefs choice, and Garrett also sent me a seared scallop, perfectly cooked) and realized I should order wine, but was confounded with the enormous wine list - I was ably guided by one of the lead waitstaff through tasting 4 different white wines - something I would have never thought to do, and honestly quite enjoyed. I knew i liked the odd pinot grigio, but to be able to sample so many, with such a great dish of food - so wonderful and reflects their overall approach to dining.
I also was pleasantly surprised by how, even though I had butterflies, once I put on that jacket and stepped on the line, my head went into the Zone. I have never known that sort of focus in any other facet of my life, and to immediately know what to look for and that the mental notes of what I would tweak in the station once it was mine was like putting on your favorite hoodie. I have yet to find words to describe how happy and proud I am when I am in a good kitchen, where ultimately what I do, how I work, and how much care I take matter more than my haircut, my makeup, my shoes.
Don't get me wrong: my shoes matter. I'm glad I had my prized Birkis again, Crocs reek of newbie.
Anyway, I left that night on Cloud 9, and even if for some reason the gig doesn't happen (though he even said that he was happy to get me "before anyone else hired you") because he was going to talk to one other person, the feeling of being offered the job, of having them recognize my dedication, and of being able to step into a kitchen and at least do a couple of plates without flinching and step up to a new task (pizza oven!) was worth it. It's why you do a stage. Sure, I only got paid in food and attagirls, but for me, its what I love - if I didn't have to pay for things like rent and cars and the like, I'd gladly do this job for free, just to be doing what I love.
Yeah. Additionally, it keeps my aching heart from overwhelming me....

setting the bar

sweet baby jesus Grant.

not hard science

However in a limited sample survey, Tom & Jerry and Bugs Bunny still elicit more genuine laughs from a 3.75-year old than Thundercats, Octonauts, Micky Mouse & Donald Duck, Max 10 and all those weird, poorly drawn cartoons on Nick Jr. Just saying. Mel Blanc, Carl Stalling, Mr. Hanna and Mr.Barbera, you created cartoons for not just all ages, but for THE Ages.

so, yeah.

Oh. the Life, it is a neverending source of amazement. Possibly time to up medication. Don't really know. I once again find myself redefining words I thought I understood, finally. Ultimately, the lesson seems to be: you know nothing. At all. Ever. I am as close to I have ever been to just giving up. I didn't even really have any grandiose plans, just simple hopes to share moments.
Fuck. Performance art indeed. No Minchin will cure this pain. For this it'll take Khyan .

admittedly avoiding writing here...

just saying...

Namaste MCA

Another passing...this circle of life thing is a bear sometimes. The Beastie Boys were a constant in my college days, and have always been one of those generational touchstones - I mentioned them a little while ago in a post about rap, and they were the subject of an initial blog post I wrote that unleashed a daily torrent for several years. I'm posting it again, because it is a favorite, and the emotions they inspired continue to this day.
beastie love
Right, so I get home last night in time to catch the last 45 minutes or so of the SNL 25th anniversary show. I mention this mostly because it turned out to be perfect timing - I missed the gratuitous Belushi salute, which it turns out was accompanied by a lot of Bill Murray (he usually doesn't get much play at these sort of events).At least that's what they tell me this morning here in cubicleland. Now, don't get me wrong, I dig both comedians, and their shtick. Especially in eighth grade, as the only female member of the audio-visual staff at Canyon Park Jr. High (oooh, the truth rears it's ugly head...) when being able to recite the latest episode of SNL verbatim put you on the fast track to cool.
However, over the years I get tired of seeing the same clips trotted out. So I was happy to have missed that, and quite thrilled to catch young David Spade choke on his "tribute" to Chris Farley. A disclaimer: I can't watch Spade without remembering a piece of gossip I picked up from a hippie who owned a recording studio in Grant's Pass Oregon. The hippie claims to have worked with Spade in a bong-building enterprise in Northern California. Now, this is pure gossip, but one look at that whiny little burner-monkey and it doesn't take much imagination to picture him gluing stems on pvc pipe.
Oh, wait. Before I get too carried away, let me get to the real reason I was stoked to have landed at the SNL show at all - the Beastie Boys backing Elvis Costello on "Radio, Radio". It was great on so many levels. First and foremost, because the Beasties were playing instruments. And I, for one, am of the, uh, demographic that was around for "Pollywog Stew" and all that early, really horrible punkrock noise they made. I love them for that stuff as much as I love "Paul's Boutique". Last night though, watching them fully dig playing (it was clearly evident that they were digging it. HRH Elvis didn't seem to be digging it quite as much, but still played hard, which was all that needed to happen)provided a couple minutes of joy for me. I really found it almost exciting to watch them not be the Mac Daddy Beasties but to be a band. To not be dressed in costumes, to be playing with some passion, instead of performing "the gig". It was punk rock. I mean that in the purest, non-commercial way too. Yes, I realize it's on national t.v. and all that, but I'm talking about the spirit, the passion, of playing live even though you're not the most gifted musician in the world. I love that.
12:40:47 - 1999-09-27

life, the universe, and everything.

Karen and I met in 5th grade - we were ten. Both of us had just moved to this little podunk town in the Sierra Pelona Mountains, north of LA and west of the Mojave desert and Palmdale. We were geeky, wore glasses, and hit it off immediately, even though we lived at opposite ends of a rural valley that translated into a 40 minute school bus ride. Hanging out at her house after school was amazing, because both of her parents worked, and not only did it mean that I would ride the school bus to the very end of the route (her house was the second to last stop) and get to hear our very odd bus driver (Clifford, his name was Clifford) do his impression of an old time radio announcers (he would do the intro of the Lone Ranger and stuff, it was so great) over the bus speaker, but we'd arrive at their house, which her parents had designed and had built (something I had never seen done before - I have a crazy recollection of crawling around in the crawlspace underneath the house before they put the insulation in, and running around through walls that were only framed out). Karen's mom; Liz, worked in a lab. She was a scientist. In a lab. It didn't hit until later how unique it really was, but it certainly made an impression. In fifth grade, when we did our science projects, Liz brought clean Petri dishes home, and Karen and I dosed them with various liquids and stuff and then tracked the growth. I remember going to the house every day and racing to their kitchen to check on our progress. Plus, since Karen and I were such responsible kids (she has an older brother, who was a teenager and rarely around, and a younger sister; who, like my middle brother, was busy setting fire to the surrounding area with discarded cigarettes and shoplifting) we were allowed to be at Home Alone. Karen's Mom trusted her. Not that my mother didn't, but, my mom was at home. To drive us to the hospital, or animal shelter, or whatever was needed given the situation. But going over to Karen's was such a treat. They had a piano. Horses. A back 40 that was yet to be discovered, full of poison oak and manzanita, and, yes, baby rabbits.
The Saltwater Taffy Debacle (wherein we made saltwater taffy with no real idea of temperature or plan for storage. hilarity ensued, unless you were her mom, who cam home to find shards of green "taffy" all over the place). The Day Karen Built a Harness For The Baby Rabbit and we took it for a walk. The Investigation of The House That Had Burned Down. The Secret Bookcases Storage System Next to Our Desks. The Comic Strips she drew and I wrote, the creation of Fuzzies, and the entire construction paper and cardboard city we built in the multi-purpose room during the MGM program where they herded the "gifted kids" once a week at a central location. We had a connection and a way of communicating even then, that was so immediate, so natural. I had no idea it would last 35 years, and am thankful every day that it did. My family moved away to Seattle when I was 13, so our actual bonding time was only three years, but it was a crucial time in any kid's life, that time when you start sorting out what you think, what you are interested in, how to navigate the world around you - and when you are a sensitive, creative, loner with a family that isn't especially emotional (we shared that as well) finding someone who you can talk to, share secrets with and laugh with is so important.
We were housemates in college, which I probably wouldn't have even bothered with (as my parents weren't pushing it) but she encouraged me to apply, and blammo, there I was, a journalism student at Humboldt State University. Had a radio show. We rode horses on the beaches of Arcata, and I wond my punk rock wings in Agent 86. Karen left, in a mess of romantic chaos and professional indecision, but we remained close, always writing, calling, always communicating. Much angst, much laughter. We criss-crossed the country, and always touched base about our family. Her mom, the professional, the constant, the breadwinner in her family. It registered, even if I hadn't noticed it at the time. Over so many years, and seeing her mom and family much more in the years I lived in Fresno, it became very much a surrogate family for me. And by that I mean, I came to understand their dysfunction, and much as my own family's. But it was ok, because, once again, as we move through this period of our lives, it only brings Karen and I closer. She is the most constant thing in my life, and through good and bad (yep, there's been bad) we have withstood all challenges. My life without her - I can't even imagine. So, it was with much sorrow that she told me her mom, Liz, died on Monday morning. It's a strange thing when constants from your life start vanishing.
Especially lately, when I was away from my family, Karen's Mom and brother (and for a while stepdad) stood in - they always included me in family gatherings (even if i couldn't make it 'cause of work) and her mom of course was part of our daily conversations when i lived with Karen. I can't state enough though, how much Liz influenced me as far as a woman who had a job outside the home. My mom was like her in other ways (not a dress wearer, an outdoor worker and gardener, not afraid to get in with the animals, all of that) but there was this thing about Liz, a distance that she held, a sort of bearing that she had, that might have been a call back to her South Carolina roots, or the fact that she attended a formal university in the early fifties, but there was a carriage about her, a poise that I will always remember. Sure i also know her faults given my closeness to Karen, but overall, Liz was a woman who encouraged her girls to explore, to develop, to try things and to be strong and smart, and for that, I will always remember her.
Also for her affection for sun images, yellow, and bees. But more about that later. Good luck Liz, hope our paths cross again.

it's funny because it's true...

Minchin ftw, again.

affirmation

sounds

So, this just came across my radar - and here's what I think - if this is how some fucking feeling gets back into music, then I'll take it. Right now, it's nice to hear, as I am totally submerging myself in what has come before:

Because, it's so very, very easy to forget that music can move you, can evoke passion, heartbreak, angst and joy. The pablum that is fed through the machine that sells things is dumbing us down. Music is passionate expression, it's emotion, it's performance, it's a way for people to tell a story. We need more of that. More stories from real people who feel real things. Less of the hurry-up and wait for what's gonna be cool. What's cool is what is real, what is created by people who can't do anything else but make that music. Right then. Right now.
Recently, listening to an interview with Dick Cavett, he talked about art and about its relationship to crazy (passion) and talent. There are a lot of people with plenty of talent out in the world trying to make money. Then, there are the people who are passionate, with a bit of ability, who rise above because their sheer joy and intensity bring a performance to a whole other level. And there are, of course, wonderful, skilled craftspeople who can woo you with their understanding of time, measure and the beauty of sound they create beautiful sounds of wonder. Then, there is that lightening bolt. Where talent and passion collide, and you see it transform into something else, an experience, a message even. Performance that makes you walk away feeling that people are good, that humans are gifted, that we all understand that innate need to communicate and feel. Best of all, I think, is if you walk away wanting to create something of your own to share.
You get that occasionally. I've been lucky a few times to find bands and performers that move me like that. Currently, Ms. O'Day is rocking my world much like John Coltrane did almost 15 years ago. As Juno and the Gits have so many times. She's classic, but also transcendental. The layers of beauty and the voice communicating with instruments and sound....it sounds almost trite to say, but it's about hearing all of it, about that moment. Jazz, baby, jazz. That idea that it's in the playing, the listening, it's a conversation players are having and you listen to it actively, passionately.
Not Kenny fucking G.
What I always loved, in my brief moment as a musician, was the performance (although, with that one, sterling lineup, sometimes practice would be pretty sweet too) - in the moment, when the song sounded right, when the energy was in sync, when we were all, literally, playing as one. That was what I loved most, it's what I crave in my life today. I find it, sometimes, when in a restaurant, during service in the higher end ones. When you are plating a complicated composed plate, with many elements, and you want it to be balanced, to look right, to taste, just right, and you set it up for the server and they whisk it away, and you hope that the person who experiences loves it and is as happy as you are in that moment of creating it.
Yeah. There are parallels all around. More to come.

down to the wire

In the home stretch with organizing and getting moved, lots of ideas floating around, looking to getting those down shortly, but for now, this.

that thing you do.

I have an odd history with rap and hip hop. As a rule, I find it boring, repetitive and to be honest, somewhat retarded. Retarded in the literal sense: held back. I find most rap songs (music wise) to sound exactly the same. Most lyrics follow suit. I'm not proud of it, and will even allow that it's my lack of an urban upbringing that makes this all true to me. I can admit I might not understand the context. But the sheer un-musical aspect of it? Well, that just seems obvious.
How. Ever. There is some rap/hip hop stuff that has spoken to the suburban malcontent in me. The disaffected intellectual. I like the Beastie Boys, from Cookie Puss on through to Paul's Boutique. The stuff I've heard off the most recent one is fantastic as well, and my first online diaryland entry is a breakdown of a performance they did on Letterman, which blew my doors off for the sheer punk rock joy of the happening.  Of once again, watching people genuinely enjoying what they were doing.
It's not just white boy rap. In fact, most times the white kids bug me even more.
That Eminem kid - never got that, though I read reviews and theoretically get it, it doesn't speak to me the way Adam and the boys do. Perhaps it's my age - I am, of course, of the Beastie generation, of their mindset, that particular Reagan-era pissed off middle class white kid; it's like Eminem had no sense of irony, or wit, heavy on the trash part of his whiteness.
I loved everything I read about Public Enemy and IceT. I heard, growing up on the west coast, enough LLCoolJ to be wooed by the interplay of samples into a rap. However, it was moving to Washington DC that really educated me.
Shocking, right? Moving to DC in 1989: in punk rock, it was Revolution Summer, in the rest of the District it was about GoGo, and as much NYC rap as you could possibly hear. I waltzed into a job (like I tended to do back then) at a record store called "Nobody Beats The Wiz".
I know, crazy. How much more NYC could it be? Not much. The location was in Georgetown (interestingly for later in my life, directly across the street from a french bistro called Au Pied A Cochon, "the foot of the pig" - it was the first time I'd ever heard of cappuccino, which I quickly learned to hate just because I had to fetch it for the owner's harpy of a wife every morning after counting out the tills).
At any rate, working at the Wiz was a massive education - we had a small punk rock section of cds, but it was the guys I worked with, a couple of students at Howard University who schooled me in hip hop, who in hooked me up with De la Soul. I already knew of Fishbone, with their West Coast punk rock roots; and would later work with a close friend of theirs at my next job at a bookstore in Dupont Circle called Common Concerns. Of course, Run-DMC, you couldn't have been breathing and miss that. But right then, there was Boogie Down Productions to be reckoned with, Erik B & Rakim, A Tribe Called Quest, Jungle Brothers,KMD, 3rd Bass, even, god help them, DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. There were movies to watch: School Daze and Do The Right Thing, there was Public Enemy, Easy E; West Coast stuff from Tupac, NWA and Dr Dre, all of which was the fodder for long debates around the cash register as they broke down all of those early guys. Of course, De La Soul, with their sampling and their verbal interplay, got me most stoked, but I appreciated the political motivations of all of the major players, and even knew about Sir Mix A Lot from my hometown of Seattle.There were local guys DC too - Vince D, and the go-go of Chuck Brown and his All Stars would have never even hit my radar if I hadn't worked there.
Anyway, I bring all this up, because recently, there's another white kid who does rap and hiphop and he's from Seattle, and there is a song that he wrote, one that I heard in the purest form there is to discover a song (for me anyway) - on the radio, in the car. The station was KEXP, which was KCMU when I grew up - and the first place I heard Suicidal Tendancies, the band that literally, changed the way I thought about music. About what it could do, about what it could mean. Sounds odd, right? When I heard Macklemore's song, "The Town" - the melody drew me in first. Sure it had that basic hip hop beat, but it was layered with interesting melodies, interesting riffs. Vocals cut with samples of people talking about growing up in the hip hop scene in Seattle. A scene I wasn't part of, but that was running parallel to the punk rock scene that I was a part of. We all played many of the same clubs - it turns out. Sit & Spin, RKCNDY, Paradox, all of them were places he name checks and that immediately brought back such vivid, intense memories of night after night in those places. Of the community - and that's what the song speaks to, and he mentions the city government. In Seattle, in the late 80's and then through the 90's there was a concerted effort by the city managers to pen kids in. It was a very, very unfriendly city for a teenager to grow up in. Poster bans, curfews, constant harassment of underage dance clubs...places like the Monastery, Skootchies, and the Vogue, the Graven Image, all scenes of police raids on kids who were just trying to see some music. When you live through a city trying to legislate your scene out of existence under the guise of "protection" and then, in spite of that, watch it explode when national attention focuses on the bands that become so good by persisting through all that bullshit (and that's what I believe made our scene so vibrant for a time, was that understanding that it kept going in spite of the pressure, in that classic sense of wanting to piss off the folks so much, you just kept playing shows, kept practicing, kept recording, kept living in group houses with a basement where 4 bands practiced, just because you loved it, loved being a part of a community that was creating a place you wanted to live in). Sure, now that the city fathers have (supposedly) embraced the music scene (because of the revenue it brings, not because they give a shit about the people, that will never change) I understand there is a difference in the city I love. There's a difference in me, too - I'm not twentysomething (or thirtysomething, even) and in a band anymore. I haven't, if I'm honest, been to a show in well more than a year (events I've worked at like Outside Lands excluded, of course), so I don't necessarily expect it to be the same. What I do expect though, is some of the more lyrical things in Macklemore's song - that skyline that is etched in my veins too, to travel those streets that I know so well, to see those vistas that have so many memories attached. He lists all these neighborhoods, places so familiar and plain to me, that it gets me homesick in the best ways. And yet, as he says "So much has changed here, so much has not." Police brutality, oppressive local ordinances, materialistic developers exploiting the downtown and surrounding areas. I get that. All cities have their bullshit. In SF they are legislating against Happy Meals at McDonalds. Not that I'm a fan of childhood obesity, but for crying out loud, is that really the best work of the city representatives? Really?
I digressed. Again.
The memories, for a long time, were why I left (ok, there was the divorce thing, but that's all part of it) I grew weary of feeling I knew everyone. The familiar became tedious. It's only recently that I realize a lack of familiarity, or the constant infusion of a new place and new people also breeds a certain dissatisfaction in general within me. I've always loved Seattle, warts and all. Recently, my mother told me that my older (of the two) brother and his wife were at some bar on the eastside and the piano player mentioned he had attended Bothell High School (where I went, as did my brothers and his wife, and one would assume probably a good percentage in a suburban piano bar on the Eastside, just saying) it turned out he was a guy I knew from school that I was pretty friendly with (particularly in junior high, when he did this amazing multimedia presentation about the Beatles, that still probably is the single most informative thing I've ever seen about them) - he is now, and has been for a while (I do remember having a conversation about this at our 10 year reunion, about he and I being the two playing musicians in the room. Not that either of us would have ever expected it when we were in school) and when my brother mentioned me, apparently he lit up and said, "Oh, yeah, I always dug her, she's great" or something along those lines. Stuff like that, for whatever reason, used to drive me batshit - like why can't I just be rid of this? Now though, I crave a bit of history. Of not having to explain who I am anymore. Of just being me. I think it might be part of being comfortable in my own skin - which apparently has taken 4 decades to do. Comfortable enough to say that I'm totally impressed with a white kid from Seattle who writes some interesting lyrics and works with a dj (Ryan Lewis) and producer (Lewis also does the videos, which are also much higher quality and more cinematic than the usual pool party rap trash) that allows him to transcend, at least in my mind, the barriers I have to a certain type of music. I can see how you could think of it as a form of blues or poetry, if it's written like that - and I always thought bands like Public Enemy and Run-DMC and others hit that, and that I just wasn't familiar enough with what they were talking about to be able to really appreciate it as the art form it was always referred to. Now, I finally have a touchstone. Not that I'm going out and buying new stuff, or gonna hang at hiphop shows, but an appreciation for different styles and understanding is something I value, and I'm happy to be able to have a little sliver of that from his stuff. Here's another, creative spin on an old story, "Irish Celebration". Cheers kiddo.

Buzzcocks. appreciation post. here. soon. referencing a crazy show at Hammerjacks in Baltimore, and this amazing footage fromCoachella today. Seriously. Aside from Joey Shithead, there is no one I know at this...uh, vintage, doing it with this much fun and passion. Seriously. How much fun are these guys having? I love that. I love to see people doing what makes them happy. Yay. Apparently they played on the mainstage before the Black Keys. Oh, Universe, you are magnificent.

yes, please.

circus lion

I'm struggling.Which is why I'm so happy this exists....Minchin is marvelous. xo.
                                           

         - Sometimes when I do this thing—this blogging about my life—and I'm grasping for words to write, I start to get anxious or feel guilty or a combination of both. Today is one of those days, so instead of uselessly kicking at those feelings I'm just going to let it be and admit that I'm having a bad day. Tomorrow could be different or more of the same, but I'll deal with it when it happens.                            

From yesterday's game, poor Hot Robot.

just keep paddling

in memory of...

no words, just feels.

North Beach-y

Always something to think about. Today, I met up with my pal who is the pastry chef at the P3 location to hang out. Truth be told, I was supposed to meet she and Shaggy at the farmer's market at 11am to see their demo, but it was grey and rainy this morning, and so I slept in instead But, in the spirit of trying not to be a shut-in, I headed into the City to meet up with Suze after she was done.
It was the first visit to that location now that CG was there. Luckily (I suppose) I was immediately trundled in front of the GM of the location, who is...well, my mother would call him a pistol. Very gregarious, very self important, of a spanish descent. He was exceedingly complimentary to me, so much so that once again, it struck me that no one eats this food, they all just look at it. Whatever, though, if he wants to blow smoke up my skirt, then so be it. CG was tucked away in a corner, back to me, butchering out fish, totally working with the intensity I remember - or appearing to. He looked over his shoulder, I met his eye, nodded, and he glared.
Yeah, just like the old days. So, then I camped out at the cafe counter and waited for Suze while watching them all go through their paces. I chatted with a server who had transferred there from 101 (my location) and then with the Chef de Cuisine, who totally blew me off initially (when he reached past me to get a straw, I was about to say hi, but he stared through me so I kept mum), then later, after seeing everyone else greet and talk to me, at least manned up and made a point to say hi. Which was cool, though I couldn't help but rub a little salt in his wound and give him a hard time when he admitted he hadn't recognized me at first. Clearly though, everyone seemed really over the moon with me. Which is weird, since I'm about 2 weeks from jumping ship. Ultimately, CG did come out of the kitchen to say hi, he stood by (I remained seated) we chatted briefly, small talk, and then he returned to his work.
It's odd, and yet somewhat comforting to not have it have be crazy at all - since I know not everyone gets to end relationships being friends or even civil. So, if this is how it ends up, then I'm fine with it. True, I miss working in the kitchen with him, but it's his level of commitment, his skill and intensity, and not the fucking headcase stuff that I miss.
The reality of the situation, for me, is that I don't get the one without the other. So. Yeah. Then, Suse and I went to Macy's to see an old coworker of hers, who now owns her own chocolate company, do a demo making Brazillian truffles. It was kind of dull, but good from a networking standpoint - or would have been if I didn't have plans to leave town shortly. It's amazing to me how frigging social Suze is though - it's a skill I'm just not practiced in, though supposedly it runs in my veins (personally, I believe my brother M got the lion's share of that DNA, but whatever) as my father was quite the crowd pleaser.
Anyway, Macy's is in the part of SF that I never, ever, traverse: the shopping zone. With Cartier, Neiman-Marcus, Prada stores, all that. That frigging Macy's and the thousands of people milling about - it was like a crazy anthill. Like one of those weird '50's industrial movies come to life. I got really, really tense in there. I'm not a fan of shopping in general, and feel very out of place in swanky locations like that, and this one, because it's downtown was crawling not just with high-maintenance trophy wives, but international tourists, students with trust funds, and the bridge and tunnel locals. Ack. Could not get out of there quick enough, I literally felt dizzy.I talked Suze out of some crazy idea to go to the Cheesecake Factory (located somewhere within Macy's WTF?) because apparently the driver she has a crush on's brother works there...noooooo. So, off we headed to North Beach (the original plan had been to go to the Mission and visit Tom's cart, but apparently he is in Vegas this week, so no dice) to do a little drinking and noshing. We went to Vesuvio's first, which is just across from the legendary bookstore City Lights (where I usually stop after watching Arsenal matches at Maggie's which is a few blocks up the hill) - and while it was a dive, it was insanely expensive and the staff was pretty cranky.So, not "dive" in a good way, at all.
Now, I get it: working in North Beach is like working in Georgetown, or Pioneer Square, or Times Square, you are gonna get tourists and not a lot of regulars, but damn, that's no reason to be outright jerks. I have had some of the rudest bartenders in my life in this city, and it's really amazing what they get away with. I am not newbie, and yet time and time again, I find myself wondering what the fuck is wrong with me asking for a Jack and diet, or when I can't understand them when they spit out the tab total.

After that, we went down the hill a bit to the Comstock, which is a saloon-themed bar (they even had a live piano player in the mezzanine doing ragtime-y numbers) owned by the Absinthe people, who Suze worked for for 5 years - and she knew a couple of people there. It was empty when we took a seat at the bar, and the bartender was young, but pleasantly friendly. He was fun to watch and occasionally would inadvertently bounce ice cubes out of the drinks he was making - but it was definitely a mixed-drink place, and so he was totally busy, and I actually do kind of like watching good bartenders work.
The bar itself was awesome, lots of restored turn of the century fixtures and the wood bar itself with the old ice-box pull handles, reminded me of the Merchant Cafe in Pioneer Square where Jesse was the bartender for so many years. The Merchant's bar was physically actually even bigger, but still, that same time period, and the Comstock was definitely in better shape We started with a happy hour beer and shot of bourbon, then each had a sarzerac - that had absinthe in it. Then, as we were getting along so well with jared, our bartender, he gave us a mixed drink that I believe he called "Dirty Sand" or something like that - bourbon, citrus, and god knows what else Tasty though. We needed food, so we ordered the house fresh pretzel which was huge, warm, really good (even Suze, who is German and knows of these things, commented on how good it was) and was welcome filler. Most of the conversation seemed to keep coming back to her trying to find out what it would take to get me to stay at the Organic cafe. Yeah. The thing is, as much as I appreciate how much they "love" me, it's not even about that really. I reiterated that I was disappointed in Shaggy being unable to even tell me not only how much my raise would be (she says it'll be to 35k) or when, and that there just was no concrete timeline for ever getting out of that rabbit hole of production baking.
So yeah. We also talked a lot about her and the driver same old stuff. I got a little fidgety. We decided to get a burger, and went to Sam's on Broadway, a complete dump of a spot, which I even said "I dunno, looks kind of sketchy" as she was locking up her bike - and it turned out the cook was outside having a smoke as we were doing that. However, once we got inside - it turned out Anthony Bourdain had put the place on the map last year in his new show "Layovers" or whatever - so a burger and fries with a coke was $9, but I have to say, it was a good burger. And the guy working, seemed really familiar, almost like a character out of a movie, and as Suze chatted with him, we found out he was from Palestine.He was really easygoing, which in that neighborhood has got to be tough, though certainly easier than any job in his homeland. He cheerfully refilled our cokes andeven put Suze's fries back in the fryer after overhearing her tell me she preferred hers more crispy, which was a nice gesture.

Fun spot, though I imagine it gets a bit nuts around the time the bars close. It was only about 7 though, so Suze said there was just one more place she wanted to go - though it turned into two - but ultimately we finished the evening at the Specs Adler, a great little bar off an alley down from Tosca's (just so I remember, should I ever be in that neighborhood again) I really, really, really liked that bar. Divey, like the old Frontier Room in Belltown used to be. Good, even keeled, older guy at the bar - and he didn't even blink when we came in from the rain (there were two torrential downpours) and ordered irish coffees, and they were fantastic. Totally would have spent all night there, had I had more money and not had to work tomorrow.

All, in all, a nice little jaunt, though it was rough having Suze try and get me to stay I...I just don't want to keep treading water, and something has to change; other than offering me a minimal pay increase they can't promise anything else. Suze wants to visit Germany in May, and asked if maybe I couldn't stay around a little longer to work at P3 in her place.
Yeah, that'd be just what I need to do.