Ivan and I are drinking and watching Animal Planet. It's a charming show about the Giant Otter, which is clearly the most endearing of the water-based mammals. Whatever beavers. Anyways, I put forth to my brother my theory that I am not afraid of any animals (except Man - the most dangerous game). We came up with a few exceptions, but not a lot. Sure, I'm too scared to call out the old lady who cuts me at line in Whole Foods, but what's a coyote going to do to me? Bark? Eat my chickens? So I'm only listing the animals that are going to be problematic here. Clearly, if it's me vs a goat, I'm coming out victorious (unless that goat has studied his Agrippa. Which I have)
Great White Shark - This is the first one that everyone comes up with, and honestly the least scary. Haven't you seen The Princess Bride? Sure, those were eels, but it's essentially the same thing, and the same solution - a punch in the nose. Let's say I'm taking a little dip and I see the dreaded fin. My head ducks underwater and I face the shark head-on as he comes my way, not extending any limbs for him (or her, I guess. Do they make female sharks?) to grab. When the shark gets within say, 14-18 inches, a quick jab to the gills is extended, careful to steer clear of their (yawn) two rows of fangs. One bonk and the shark is off in search of prey that doesn't fight back. Come back when you grow a pair (of lungs).
Lion - Sure, lions can be intimidating, they're like 800 lbs. I get the sense most lions can't be bothered to eat the likes of me, but let's say someone is feeling extra motivated. I get behind a medium-sized tree, one I can reach around, but one big enough to prevent a direct charge. Lion goes left, I go right, always keeping the tree between us, all the while peppering his hairy face with two-fingered pokes in the eyes and a steady stream of profanity. Eventually he either gets tired of being poked and goes away, or goes blind and is quickly domesticated by me, spending the rest of his life fetching my slippers.
Alligators - These guys, along with their crocodilian cousins, are very linear. One line of toothy death. So like in Karate Kid II, when gators attack, I rotate at the hip, pivoting my shoulders. He speeds past me and I am off to the bar.
Grizzly Bear - My understanding is that if I make a lot of noise, a bear will run away. That's what my mom just said, and is in keeping with my years of ninja training. Better to fight another day, my friends. That's my strategy, and I'm going to apply it to polar bears as well.
Killer Whale - A killer whale would fuck me up, ok. Likewise with hippos.
Tuesday
Wednesday
Fish Sauce World Tour
My friend Leo and his (now) wife Song got hitched in Jinghong in South West China, and I took the opportunity to go to Manila with my friends Andrej and Cindy, and then after to Tokyo for work. Above is a picture of Andrej and my enormous forehead. Below is a picture of a frog in a puddle in Chiang Mai, Thailand.
Day One: SFO - Tokyo
The week before departure to Asia was fraught with stress of the most retarded sort, trying to complete work that could just as well have waited two weeks, gratuitous socializing and more than anything, a failed, tragic attempt to activate a new phone (bought in the hopes of being extra communicative whilst on the road). At any rate, I stayed up most of the night before in order to konk out on the flight and was dropped off by Jessica in good spirits. Spirits which were quickly crushed by the retirement home atmo of the SFO-NRT leg of my journey, courtesy of Northwest Airlines. Between the superannuated stewardesses bilking me for booze money, the mainland Chinese guy who I declined to swap seats with giving me the stink eye (I love the aisle, so much mobility) and the cardboard cuisine, it was a long, long 12 hours back to my 2nd (3rd? 4th?) hometown. I neglected to take any photos of this portion because you know what a plane looks like.
(Cindy on the Promenade in Jinghong)
Day Two: Tokyo - Bangkok
The mood improved immediately upon arrival at Narita, my ability to buy an onigiri and a beer unfettered by the rust of my Japanese language abilities. A quick hour and I was off to Bangkok. The sweethearts at JAL kindly bumped me up to Business, essentially ruining my ability to fly like a normal person ever again. Four varieties of sake? Twist my arm. The dorky rich kid next to me kept asking annoying questions ("What is...Campari?"), but otherwise the flight alone could probably have passed for a vacation. I arrived at Bangkok at 1AM local time, got the luggage that I feared might be lost and found my way to the airport shuttle, which drove me the 100 meters to the airport hotel. There I rendezvous'd with Andrej, who'd just arrived from Manila himself. We made vague attempts to make a night of it, but the bar at the Airport Novotel is hardly jumping, and we were both beat. I didn't take any photos of the airport hotel either.
(Isaac is not scared of bird flu)
Day Three: Bangkok - Chiang Mai
The next morning we grabbed Cindy at the airport and hopped a quick plane to Chiang Mai. Air Asia is a bit like Southwest Airlines, only without the shorts and the corny jokes that pass for congeniality. It was only an hour though, and we were there before I had a chance to get grumpy. Andrej, being in the hospitality business, had kindly organized the entire trip for us lazy-ass Americans, and after withdrawing a wad of baht from a dusty ATM, we grabbed a cab to our hotel. Chiang Mai immediately reminded me of suburban Japan, small windy streets with miniscule sidewalks and traffic on a perpetual duck and weave. Thai drivers honk incessantly. Not the sharp angry fuck-you honk of say, the commute between SF and Cupertino, but more a quick and friendly tap-tap to alert the countless bicyclists who brave even the speediest of thoroughfares.
(The first in a series of one pictures of me using a telephone)
Checking into the tropical Yaang Come Hotel, we were quickly put at ease. We could see splashing kids in the pool from the leafy open air lobby, and the rooms were decked out in local crafts to a degree that was charming without being kitschy (a price sheet warned us about pocketing the wooden statues on the mantle, our gracious hosts having been subject to too much souvenir-ing). The three of us cleaned up and headed out, consulting a quick map and asking one of the friendly concierges a good place to eat, which went something like this:
Andrej: Where's a good place to eat lunch near here?
Nice Thai Lady: I suggest the Antique Cafe around the corner, they have English menus.
Isaac (ever the intrepid traveler): But where did you eat lunch?
NTL: Here, at work.
IB: Hmm, how about yesterday?
NTL: Here.
IB: What if you weren't going to eat here, where would you eat?
NTL: The Antique Cafe.
So after a nice enough meal at the Antique Cafe, we meandered around, passing through the Night Market area, which was largely tons of stalls hocking the same Singha Beer tee-shirts and "Abibas" sporting goods from China, but full of unfailingly friendly people and tons of good things to eat. While Cindy dozed in our room, Andrej and I walked around the touristy Night Market, had a quick drink (Mojito for him, Campari for me) amongst loud, lobster-like Anglos and then slept in the cool comfort of our peaceful room. I woke up early the next morning and went running at sunup along the Ping River, the local joggers going the opposite direction giving me a sporty salute in passing. I got back to the hotel, ate some of the wholly edible breakfast buffet (see China hotel later) and lay by the pool for an hour reading until it was time to fly out. There was some subsequent internal discussion about the lingering next-day effects of the spicy food (Not from me. Or Andrej.), but generally Thailand was a breeze. Honestly, I'd not really thought much of passing through, but having done so, it's easy to see the appeal. Nice people, nice food, free wifi, etc. Important side note, I didn't spy anything even vaguely sleazy the entire time there, in stark contrast to the stereotype of Thailand as creepy sex capital of Asia. Actually, some of those English dudes at the bar were pretty sleazy, but none of the local ladies were having it.
Yourantai B&B in Jinghong
Days Four to Eighteen to follow....
Friday
The Interest of Conflict
Honeycut's "Exodus Honey" is the startup music for the new Mac OS "Leopard!" Check the primer with music out here, and every time you start a Mac for the next five years. Free download below.
Honeycut
"Exodus Honey" (mp3)
from "The Day I Turned To Glass"
(Quannum Projects)
Buy at iTunes Music Store
Buy at eMusic
Stream from Rhapsody
Buy at Napster
Buy at Rhapsody
Buy at GroupieTunes
Buy at Insound
Monday
Movie People Suck (except John Malkovich)
What? They do. It's ok, I'm allowed to say it because I am a movie person. But they/we do suck. Especially when they install rain machines on my entire block and light up these giant hanging light blimps (6 of them) outside my window.
Also sucky? 1,000 people standing on my stoop to try to take a photo of George Clooney on their iphones and fail to notice they are pushing past John Malkovich standing in a bathrobe in the middle of the street holding a hatchet. Don't believe me? This is in front of my house last week. Nice way to start my day.
Also sucky? 1,000 people standing on my stoop to try to take a photo of George Clooney on their iphones and fail to notice they are pushing past John Malkovich standing in a bathrobe in the middle of the street holding a hatchet. Don't believe me? This is in front of my house last week. Nice way to start my day.
The Atlantic Antic aka Street Meat Fest '07
While my brother's bloggery tends towards obscure musical links and cool video clips I can only post about the things I know and so herewith I give you more pictures of meat I've eaten outside while drunk. The Atlantic Antic is a yearly street festival that stretches from Flatbush ave to the BQE in the Heights passing through various ethnic and cultural neighborhoods each of which is well represented by the food stalls that line the thoroughfare. Each September I run this gastronomic gauntlet with unbounded enthusiasm that borders on obsession.
This year was no different. Here's how it went:
This year was no different. Here's how it went:
Woke up mid-morning with a healthy hangover to the twangings of my roommate's mandolin as he prepared for a bluegrass brunch. I had a very light breakfast that doesn't merit description compared to the epicurean maelstrom to follow. Note Matty Dread's face as he bangs away on his guitar. Good morning to me!
After a rousing bluegrass session (and a preemptive gatorade) we took to the streets. The first beer was had. A banh mi was consumed to fuel the push towards Flatbush ave. My hands were still shaky at this point and I was holding a beer and a sandwich so it's a bit blurry but you get the idea. This one was chicken because I can't mess with the foie gras that comes on the "classic".
Further down the road, Jonny Bang Bang stopped here for a pig sandwich and by the time I got back from the beer place he had eaten the whole thing so I can only assume it was good. If you look closely at this picture you can see this is an entire roast pig laid out on the outdoor counter. Yah, that's the pig's head on the right. For some of you hillbillies this is no big deal but keep in mind this is on a sidewalk in Brooklyn. Thanks for saving me a bite, Jonny. You owe me $5 for the beer.
As we pushed onwards we entered the Caribbean and Creole section of town. Sammy Banjo stopped at the Jerk Center while Todd posed for me. That's his Jerk Face. I didn't try the Jerk because I was saving myself for shawarma that never arrived but Sam said it was good. More on the shawarma later.
Jonny Bang and I chose our shawarma target by the length of the line and the fact that nobody who worked at the stand spoke English except the 12 year old kid with braces. We stood there for 15 minutes and got hungry so ate some falafel and stuffed grapeleaves while we waited.
After 15 more minutes they had served 1 shawarma and little Jonny was getting grumpy without his beer (no beer in the Muslim section) so we actually gave up and pressed on. I know, I know. I can't believe it either.
of shawarma and they have no problems serving it with beer. It is the mighty gyro. Note of caution: Greeks don't like it when you call their gyro a shawarma. It's a fucking gyro, man. Sorry Greek dude. The gyro was pretty awesome. No idea what kind of meat it is but it's served on nice hand baked bread with a yogurt cucumber sauce that spilled all over Tommy.
What can one do post-gyro except take a quick trip to Spain for some paella, chorizo and my perennial favorite, grilled, salted sardines? Holy crap are these good.
It's now 5pm and we've been walking, eating and drinking since noon. Outside my favorite local bar a french rock band is playing laisse tomber les filles (that one's for you, big I) and two semi-foxy girls are go-go dancing on raised platforms. The sun is painting the crowd a glowing red as the smoke from the Spanish grill rises up over us where we sit on a curb to catch our breath. Jonny Bang returns from the beer stand with another round and I decide that this year I will skip the deep fried twinkie from the British fish and chips place. That is my one regret from this year's antic.
Thursday
Haisai Ojisan
Hifana are OK, I probably would have loved them in 1997. Those are surprisingly chesty sea nymphs in the video, but I suppose there are allowances to be made when dealing with mythological creatures. You should see the pantheon of ancient gods worshiped here at Blonde & Precise, what a gang of tramps. I dig this song mostly because it samples Okinawan troubadour Shoukichi Kina. More arty good times (on advertising dime) live here.
Frankly more interesting work along similar lines was done (to death) by Tadanori Yokoo in the 60s, whose website is irritating enough to make me want to finish this post and go get some more coffee.
Wednesday
Something Great, Surprisingly
There's a lot to dislike about LCD Soundsystem. The NY pretension, that dude's hairy face and insistence on wearing jackets with t-shirts, the boring backstory, and more than anything the vastly overrated catalog. So it's with some hesitation that admit that I like this song, and several other songs from this record. Damn. No way I'm posting a picture of dude though, so I just ran with old reliable, the venerable stag beetle.
Tuesday
"Armed With Trombone"
I've been on a big Willie Colon kick of late, having recently copped one of the Fania reissues, Siembra, with Ruben Blades. Classic NY salsa style, with a little disco throw in for good measure. The Colon track "La Murga," which the Internet translates as "The Murga," is a true heater, and may be recognizable to some as the sample from the Rawkus Lyricist Lounge track track "CIA," which featured KRS and Zack from Rage Against the Machine. Also someone named Last Emperor. I remember really liking this track when it came out, but outside of a rather hot beat and the unflappable Chris Parker, it's not aged so well. None of this should be taken as an endorsement of any contemporary Rawkus releases.
Willie Colon - "La Murga"
KRS One, Zach de la Rocha & Last Emperor - "CIA"
Friday
King Kamehameha
So, we've established that anime is lame, correct? I hate that shit. If you're a grown American man and you're professing your love of Naruto, you are a weirdo. And don't get me started on big-eyed anime porn, that's even creepier. I don't care how many 16th century woodblock prints you cite, you are a nutjob. Please don't talk to me.
Anyhoo, it goes without saying that crazy genius films like Lupin III or Tokyo Godfathers are in a totally different category. I also will admit a certain affinity for the things I enjoyed as a kid, like Battle of the Planets, or my boy Goku from Dragonball circa 1986. Which is why I bring all this up. Because there's a brass band covering the original Dragonball theme song. This will be interesting for maybe six people, which pretty much sums up our readership here at B&P. Actually, it's not even interesting to me. I'm out of here.
Gatchaman
Goku Comes Alive
Wheels
I got a new bike. For some reason I got it into my head that I needed a bike that folded, and that I was going to take it on business trips and pedal around Berlin and Shanghai like the urbane little world traveler I purport to be. Thus far I have not folded it except to show people that it can fold. It's like my genitals that way - sometimes I take them out just to prove that they still exist, but their functionality is otherwise irrelevant. A real crowd-pleaser. Dan Carr says this bike makes me look even more like a community college professor from New England.
Tuesday
Meat Mafia
Since its birth in 1994 there has been one organization secretly pulling the strings that influence the way this country is run. It's hard to say how deep that influence goes or how far they will go to maintain it for they follow strict rules of conduct that swear them to secrecy. Many who have crossed them have not lived to tell of it. I risk my very life to bring you this posting. Pull the wool from your eyes! Don't let them control you any longer!
Monday
Cholly
The kind folks over at Afropunk have made a trailer for what looks to be a fictionalization of their excellent (if a bit long) documentary, with the snappy title White Lies, Black Sheep. Their latest email blast contained an embedded thing that didn't work, so I went with an image of perennial favorites, Fishbone.
Sunday
Tuesday
El Alcalde del Mundo
I have never understood dude's weird hat thing, but this record is growing on me, even if it's not breaking much new ground.
Manu Chao
"Me Llaman Calle" (mp3)
from "La Radiolina"
(Nacional Records)
Buy at Manu Chao Pre-Order Store
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