bowl-o-blau

Morning

Fri, 19 Aug 2011 19:25:00 -0700

When you graduate, you’ve got this list of amazing stuff that you expect to do: travel the world, go on a cruise, hike Mt. Whitney —

“22 miles round trip? That’s nothin’. I’m gonna do that shit in a day.”

Today, I’m having breakfast with my dad.

…

In San Francisco, you can’t ever really tell if it’s early morning or mid-afternoon; there’s just this cloying, ubiquitous blandness. The characteristically foggy weather is like that piece of gum that came with the baseball cards you bought when you were a kid: there’s not much flavor to begin with, but for some reason, you stick it in your mouth and chew on it until it’s insipid as all hell. You don’t even know why you keep chewing, there’s just a certain, odd, saccharine element to this gum that came with your Matt Williams card.

“Great weather, huh?” my dad says. “Not too hot, not too cold.”

I need a morning. Lately, I’ve kind of felt like an urban raccoon that can’t tell if its night or day; I just sort of wake up and half-consciously rummage through my refuse for something edible. But not today! Because today, there’s going to be a story. And for every story, there’s a beginning. And every day, there’s a morning. And today, well… good fucking morning.

About a block down from my house, there’s a Chinese bakery my dad took me to when I was a kid. That’s where we go, for old time’s sake — or is it new time’s sake? Sure. There’s a Starbucks down the block with those double-shot whateverthefucks and a donut shop in the other direction, but my dad insists on going here.

Now, there isn’t any Coltrane in the background nor is there a welcoming ambience, but its still oddly pleasant. For some reason, my dad always thought it was appropriate to take me here, even though I was the only one who was under forty — hell, under ten years old; it felt like I was Sir Gawain at the Round Table, sipping hot milk tea out of a goblet shaped like a paper cup. This kid? This kid here? He was a part of the discussion. But today, I’m not a kid, nor am I retired — just kind of post-grad.

If you just sit there and listen, you pick up on the unique charms of the Chinese language: it’s dressed up with accents and tones that always makes it so animated and exciting. However, it’s also probably the least romantic language you can possibly hear. I’d prove it by trying to pick up some ladies with a Chinese accent, but we already know how that would end.

But anyways, my dad asks me about the job search, and I tell him about an unappealing job offer: low pay, long commute, utterly mundane.

“There’s a saying that people used to have back in China,” he says. “Ride the cow until you find a horse.”

I think back to the time when I told him I wanted to go to art school — most Asian parents would probably blow their lids. But him, he didn’t really say anything. The next day, he bought an easel and placed it in the garage. From that moment on, I always thought that he was smarter/wiser than I’d ever really admit. Still couldn’t figure the whole thing out, to tell you the truth. I always expect some weird Yogi Berraism out of his mouth, like “Baseball is ninety percent mental and the other half is physical,” or “I never said most of the things I said.” Huh?

But this one makes sense. Ride the cow. Sure. I guess. Maybe. Maybe not.

Then we move on to the next typical topic of conversation: women. Are you dating anyone? What happened to that other girl? Who was that girl from the other day? Do you still talk to so-and-so?

Nothing interesting going on, I tell him. Well, there was, but right now… not really, nope. He thinks I’m too idealistic about romance. He’s probably right.

“Well, its like I said earlier,” he says. “Sometimes, you just have to ride the —”

“OKAY DAD. I’m just gonna stop you right there.”

TL;DR

Tue, 16 Aug 2011 20:28:00 -0700

Post-grad life is a weird limbo.

You’re frantically assembling fragments of a 10-page research paper during finals week of your last quarter in academia, then suddenly, you’re in your pajamas trying to think of clever YouTube video comments. You’d watch some random video blog, slide back in your chair and stroke your chin, and then after a long while, you finally think to yourself:

“Wait… what the fuck am I doing?”

There’s certain facets of college life that I sorely miss. One of them is the way a certain 70 year-old poetry professor read Ginsberg’s Howl:

“… with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls…”

I remember him reading the line with that slow, steady, monotonous drawl of his, but then he’d have this deliberate and cacophonic emphasis on “cock” and “balls.” The imagery would jump out at you as you picture a potato-sized crotch in black biker shorts: it’s this large, disturbing, car-wreck of a mass that demands your attention. And yet, at the same time, you’re oddly amused. You don’t expect to hear a 70 year-old professor say those words in that particular syntax. It’s a weird Rorschach test: the black blotch — this crotch that’s been awkwardly crammed in a small pair of biker shorts — is something that you know is supposed to be “cock” and/or “balls,” but it looks like a tiny garbage bag filled with doorknobs, balls of wadded paper, and moldy avocados.

But anyways, that’s how I would describe the cadence of the post-grad life: endless balls. Most people see it as a welcome reprieve from the hectic day-to-day of studying and exams and libraries and books and professors and students and reading and writing and lectures and papers and projects and presentations and meetings and classrooms and schedules… but to me, it doesn’t seem like there’s much charm to it — it’s sort of this weird, barren, uninviting landscape that extends far beyond the horizon. You’re not really hiking towards a peak, you’re kind of just sifting through nondescript mounds of job offers, practice exams, and all of the random crap that fills your days. You’re incredibly busy, and yet it seems like you didn’t really go anywhere.

It feels like a bookmark placed at a boring chapter within an otherwise wholly entertaining detective novel: you want to keep reading, but you’re sort of just stuck at this particular page. You think about skipping a few pages or skimming it for awhile, but you just know that there’s going to be something significant that you’re going to miss. What winds up happening is that you simply leave the bookmark where it’s at, and the novel just lies on your desk as it silently but boldly mocks you.

So this is me, whisper-yelling at this book:

“I’m gonna read you, biiiotch!”

A new series of blog posts starts soon… stay tuned.

To Geoff and Marissa

Thu, 11 Aug 2011 14:30:00 -0700

There’s something that people always say about romance novels: from the beginning, you always know who ends up with who — so why bother reading? We even joked about it in a Jane Austen Seminar class because, let’s face it, its the premise of just about every one of her novels. But there’s a reason why we’re so enthralled by these romances, why we keep reading on, why we’re so captivated by the story all the way to the happily ever after and beyond: we love to read about the love, the drama, the hardships, the sacrifices, and the incredible journey that the protagonists experience.

And that’s what its been like. For 11 years, the friends and family of these two have been fortunate enough to witness their relationship evolve from high school sweethearts to husband and wife. From the beginning, it always seemed like they were meant for each other; that somewhere down the road, they’d probably get married, and we’d all high-five and hug each other at the end of the day.

But that doesn’t mean it was always easy. Of course there’d be trials, drama, and the occasional crisis-mode — but that’s what made it so interesting. Real. The romance of their lives wasn’t simply a structure of rose-colored, stained glass windows with pictures from Disney movies, it was built from a foundation of hard work and sincerity that became the paragon of relationships that we all admire.

(Well, okay… maybe there’d be a couple of stained glass windows from The Little Mermaid or something)

It was the relationship that everyone rooted for, that everyone had hoped would one day reach the pinnacle. We’re all just glad that we played the part we were supposed to play…

… however meager or significant it may have been.

Its been a long journey; a world-spanning adventure that went from Australia to Japan. And finally, here it is:

This is the happily ever after.

This show is super hilarious. Does anybody wonder how the show’s producers find these crazy...

Thu, 11 Aug 2011 01:23:04 -0700

This show is super hilarious. Does anybody wonder how the show’s producers find these crazy couponers? Its probably a phone call that sounds a lot like this:

Random Safeway Employee: SOME LADY JUST WALKED INTO THE STORE AND BOUGHT 400 BOXES OF COCOA PUFFS — THE COUPONS BROUGHT THE TOTAL PRICE DOWN TO TWENTY CENTS. WTF JUST HAPPENED.

Signed copy of ABOM! Big thanks to Steve for the gift.

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 23:16:21 -0700

Signed copy of ABOM!

Big thanks to Steve for the gift.

poorartists: Paige Bradley created one of the most striking...

Wed, 29 Jun 2011 21:16:49 -0700

poorartists:

Paige Bradley created one of the most striking sculptures I’ve seen in recent times. Her masterpiece, entitled Expansion, is a beautiful woman seeking inner piece but fractured and bleeding with light.

“From the moment we are born, the world tends to have a container already built for us to fit inside: a social security number, a gender, a race, a profession,” says Bradley. “I ponder if we are more defined by the container we are in than what we are inside. Would we recognize ourselves if we could expand beyond our bodies?”

Wed, 22 Jun 2011 23:39:00 -0700

"Every watch has got a story. Everybody’s got a timepiece and a piece of time. Watch was an..."

Fri, 17 Jun 2011 16:08:35 -0700

“Every watch has got a story. Everybody’s got a timepiece and a piece of time. Watch was an outward reflection of your personal time. Had nothing to do with being on time. Had to do with a sense of time. Sense of urgency. Sense of rhythm. Cadence. Sense of history. Like listening to oldies. Time could heal, but it wouldn’t make wrongs go away. Time came back like a reminder. Time folded with memory. In a moment, everything could fold itself up, and time stand still.”

- Karen Tei Yamashita, Tropic of Orange

via National Geographic In a scene no human could have witnessed, an apocalyptic ...

Wed, 08 Jun 2011 09:52:01 -0700

via National Geographic

In a scene no human could have witnessed, an apocalyptic agglommeration of lightning bolts illuminates an ash cloud above Chile’s Puyehue volcano (map) on Sunday.

The minutes-long exposure shows individual bolts as if they’d all occurred at the same moment and, due to the Earth’s rotation, renders stars (top picture, left) as streaks.

“Let Me Go.” You’d normally say/hear this...

Thu, 02 Jun 2011 14:23:00 -0700

“Let Me Go.”

You’d normally say/hear this phrase during the emotional post-breakup phase, while you’re in traffic trying to maneuver into the fast lane, or if you’re imprisoned in a mental hospital —

Which is why its so oddly appropriate as a graduation anthem.

I’m ready to go… and yet, I’m not.

If you’ve ever seen No Strings Attached, you’ll remember that awesome “Period...

Tue, 31 May 2011 09:19:00 -0700

If you’ve ever seen No Strings Attached, you’ll remember that awesome “Period Mix” that Adam made for Emma. Since I live by myself, I usually “do my business” with the bathroom door open, and I thought to myself: Why not have a playlist of music for taking a dump? A “Shit List,” if you will — to soothe my burning anus… and just sort of blast it from my computer instead of idly listening to the boring, mechanical hum of my bathroom fan. So I went through the songs in my iTunes and… here it is.

At first I thought this list would be full of crap (no pun intended), but it actually isn’t that bad.

Album Title: No Strings Attached

Linkin Park - Bleed It Out
Muse - Supermassive Black Hole
Nina Simone - I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel To Be Free
Billie Holiday - They Can’t Take That Away From Me
James Brown - Give It Up or Turnit A Loose (Remix)
Duke Ellington - Black And Tan Fantasy
Frank Sinatra - Moon River
Louis Armstrong - Tiger Rag
Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell - Ain’t Nothing Like The Real Thing
MGMT - Electric Feel (Justice Remix)
Michael Jackson - The Way You Make Me Feel
Missy Elliot - Lose Control
Black Eyed Peas - Meet Me Halfway
Parliament - Tear The Roof Off The Sucker (Give Up The Funk)
Presidents of the United States of America - Lump
Robert Tepper - No Easy Way Out
Sly & The Family Stone - Underdog
Stevie Wonder - Uptight (Everything’s Alright)
Janet Jackson vs. Kool & The Gang - Don’t Stop
Red Hot Chili Peppers - Can’t Stop
Black Eyed Peas - Boom Boom Pow
Rage Against the Machine - Renegades of Funk
Gwen Stefani - Sweet Escape
Stevie Wonder - Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours
Drake - Best I Ever Had

I’m pretty sure I’ll never need two hours to take a dump, though.

The interesting paradox of ethics and virtue: sometimes, you...

Mon, 30 May 2011 11:33:01 -0700

The interesting paradox of ethics and virtue: sometimes, you have to do wrong to do what’s right.

"A beautiful woman with a Biggie. Nothing else — just a Biggie. She sat alone; she seemed like..."

Wed, 18 May 2011 09:38:00 -0700

“A beautiful woman with a Biggie. Nothing else — just a Biggie. She sat alone; she seemed like she was waiting for someone. What lucky soul could make a beautiful woman with a Biggie wait? Who has that kind of power? What person would a beautiful woman with a Biggie find attractive? Only one answer made sense to me: another beautiful woman with a Biggie.”

- Joe Wenderoth, Letters to Wendy’s

LA: Day 5

Tue, 19 Apr 2011 09:26:17 -0700

One last place to visit during my final day in L.A.: the highly-acclaimed Umami Burger. GQ’s Burger of the Year mysteriously contains the “Fifth Taste”, a Japanese umami flavor that supposedly doesn’t quite fall into the standard categories of salty, sweet, sour, or bitter.

The titular Umami Burger, topped with a housemade ketchup special sauce and fried cheese.

The menu also has several other burgers, but we were curious about one of the fan-favorites:

The Truffle Burger. So. Damn. Good. Probably one of the best burgers I’ve ever had, and my last taste of L.A.

LA: Day 4

Mon, 18 Apr 2011 09:48:00 -0700

More free museums! More ~~annoying~~ crowds of kids, tourists, and locals! More great eats!

First off:

Griffith Observatory. Closed for renovation in 2002, doors re-opened in 2006 after $93 million worth of expansions and improvements. Originally the philanthropic project of a notorious industrialist, it still exists as a wonderful center for science as well as a hub for astronomical events for the public. Chef Wolfgang Puck maintains a restaurant on the premises as well, so that’s pretty impressive, I guess.

The amazing view of the city at the terrace.

The Zeiss Mark IV - I’ll let your imagination decide its function. I managed to grab a snapshot before a crowd of school kids mobbed the place.

Afterward, we went over to Grauman’s Chinese Theater to check out the prints/memorial of somebody who recently passed away:

R.I.P.

And finally, exchanging the tourist crowds of Hollywood for a different crowd:

All-you-can-eat Korean BBQ for $18! The place was super crowded and is usually notorious for its long wait time, but it was totally worth it. The service was surprisingly impressive, especially considering how busy it was. Amazing food & wide selection, the latest hip-hop & kpop beats in the background, and relatively cheap eats (especially by San Francisco standards) — it was easy to tell why Road to Seoul is widely considered to be one of the best places for eats in K-Town.

LA: Day 3

Thu, 31 Mar 2011 21:09:54 -0700

If you’re in the L.A. area, you’ve probably driven down the 405 and seen this weird building up in the Santa Monica mountains. This was because some architect thought it would be an awesome idea to have an art gallery there:

The Getty. Nothing to fear, though, because the construction of the museum simultaneously coincided with the planting of California Oak Trees along the hillsides and other native vegetation for the landscape, providing a stable foundation for the surrounding area. Oh, and if you think that it probably takes a billionaire to craft a museum that requires a tram ride up as well, you’re right.

The Central Garden. The circular walkway down to here was lined with weird plants that smelled like garlic.

The art galleries boasted of works by Monet and Van Gogh, who are no doubt masters of the brush, but there were also works by another artist who hardly receives the recognition he deserves:

DUCREUX! Who would’ve thought that he’d be immortalized by internet memes?

The exhibits and galleries weren’t quite on the level of the Met in NYC, but still quite amazing. Among my favorites were the preserved Medieval texts, which were pretty cool, as well as the Asian photography.

Afterward, my sister got me into her Krav Maga class for free. I underestimated its difficulty. Actually, underestimate is an understatement. I sorely, utterly, completely got my ass handed to me in that class:

Me: “Oh man, that was tiring. That felt good, though.”
Instructor: “OKAY. Now we’re done with the warmup…”
Me: “WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF”

Good times, though. Good times.

LA: Day 2

Mon, 28 Mar 2011 20:25:00 -0700

With rainstorms looming on the forecast, we decided that this would be the best day for whale watching. Lucky for us, we found a pretty sweet deal on Travelzoo: $15 Tuesdays! So around 10ish in the morning, we drove about 60 miles south of L.A. to Dana Point Harbor in Orange County.

It was a day of awesome sights:

From the drive down…

… to the great view at Dana Point Harbor…

… and to the amazing scenery from out on the water.

Even though we were there mostly for the whales, the dolphins were the most impressive:

“Whoa.”

Then finally, we went over to Santa Monica for some shopping and, of course, a visit to a Coffee Bean for some caffeine-infused creativity to spend the rest of the night writing…

… after enjoying the weather for just a tad bit longer.

LA: Day 1

Fri, 25 Mar 2011 20:02:00 -0700

So, the drive down was hell. The Grapevine was closed off due to snow, and the detour to 58E was closed as well — we had to swing all the way to the west and get onto 101S, which was a huge pain. In all, it took me and my sister a horrendous 14 hours to finally get down to L.A., arriving at 3am in the morning.

Monday afternoon, we pulled our asses out of bed for some grub at Pink’s Hot Dogs in West Hollywood:

The line is usually disgustingly long, but it was surprisingly short; we believed that it was the universe’s way of compensating us for our long drive down.

I went with the Mushroom Swiss Dog. Notably awesome dogs: “Lord of the Rings Dog” (10” stretch dog topped with onion rings), “The Today Show Dog” (2 hot dogs in one bun w/cheese, mustard, and guacamole), and various other dogs named after movie stars and celebrities.

Other than that, I spent my time at a nearby cafe to work on some random essays, then we hit up a random ramen joint for dinner. Not much else to report from my first day down there, other than this really epic fight that went down at around 1am between my sister’s roommate and his girlfriend. Two hours of yelling, a sudden crescendo into high-pitched screams, futile efforts to transform pillows into deadly projectiles, and finally, a visit from the cops to calm the two down.

Joce: “Welcome to L.A.”

Photo

Tue, 08 Feb 2011 20:34:45 -0800

ebookporn: There is something to be said for the smell of an...

Tue, 08 Feb 2011 13:02:51 -0800

ebookporn:

There is something to be said for the smell of an old paperback, the familiar way the broken spine always opens to your favorite part, the dogeared creases where you stopped to take a breath from its immersive depths. A physical book over time becomes personalized by it’s owner and marked by the life it has led creating a unique expression of individual personality.

In the digital book world this element of artifact and fetish is inherent in the devices such as an iPad or Kindle but not in the eBooks themselves. There is an almost sterile quality to the digital file that has dogged eBooks all along the way influencing everything from perceived value and royalties to editorial quality and functionality. Can we as readers be just as passionate about a Word Document of Catcher in the Rye as we are about a crinkled maroon paperback copy of the same book?

Dominic Basulto tries to address this in a recent post in Futurelab called The Art of Making Emotional Attachments to Digital Objects.

One idea that a colleague mentioned to me involved the notion of “dynamic weathering” of applications — the more that you use an app, the more that it would appear “weathered” and used. People would know how often you were reading by how “worn” your iPad’s screen looked, for example.

Would an author’s digital signature on your iPad have the same “emotional resonance” as one made with a Sharpie in a First Edition hardcover?

How will Kindles effect your decision to talk to the hot girl across from you on the subway if you can’t see the cover of the book she is reading? (It could be Glenn Beck for gods sake)

Will our mothers keep our favorite childhood books in a box in the attic to pass down to our children or will we pass on our passwords to our iTunes accounts?

Now that machines can pull out of the clouds all the great works of literature ever written we might just have to figure out how to put the soul back into the machines?