What the blogging really does

I am still without cup number two (my normal amount) of coffee, so I am not quite lucid as I type. The strokes and percussive sound of the keys are mainly the focus of my mind, so I am not thinking about what I am writing too very much.

What I am partially aware of is simple, and maybe not true even. It's an idea that I have had before and dismissed.

I wonder if blogging actually increases or reduces the frequency of my creative writing. Certainly, in crafting a post, I do write. Perhaps that is enough. Perhaps there should be more.

I am thinking that my writing here is almost childish. Generally, if I don't know the spelling of a word right off, I don't use it in posts. And then there's the typos. And then there's the structure.

In looking at my posts, then comparing my own outside creative writing projects, I realize that I have a style of sorts.

Here, in a nutshell, is an example of my style. You see, I like the comma. Too much really (by the way, I also like the colon, parentheses, etc.).

I love short paragraphs.

Even though you are not supposed to string together adjectives, I string them together like I was making a necklace for a really fat man: "my red, shiny, thin, cheaply made book cover," instead of "my book cover."

What I have decided is simply to use my odd style in a new way. I have something in mind. If you are in my creative writing circle, you'll get to see my baby steps in using a structure that suits me more.

Where is my coffee buddy?

You know what day it is...

When the moon hits your eye...

After over ten months of hype, Zack and I finally tried Pizzaiolo, the yupscale Italian joint started by some Chez Panisse alum in Oakland’s Temescal district. We’d attempted dinner there once before, about six months ago, and failed miserably. Since the restaurant takes no reservations, we tried to get there early, at 5:00 - half an hour before it opened. There were no signs of life, so we sat down at a nearby café for a glass of wine. At 5:30, we stood up to check out the scene, and the line was wrapped around the block. Dutifully, we stood in line, hoping that we might be able to squeeze in. I felt like we were waiting for some exclusive lounge or nightclub, except it was still daylight out, and everyone in line was middle aged and/or with small children. By the time we got to the front, the restaurant had filled up, and the wait was going to be approximately an hour and a half. We wound up eating at Dona Tomas instead (very good, BTW).

Last night, I met Zack at the restaurant after a yoga class. We were originally planning to check out the Epicurious Garden, but since everything closed after 9:00, we opted for Pizzaiolo – it’s open until 10. I was sure to call the restaurant ahead of time to find out if there would be any wait when we arrived. I was told I shouldn’t have a problem. The restaurant was still pretty busy when I got there, but there were a few open tables, and some groups getting ready to leave. The host offered to seat me immediately, but since Zack had yet to appear, I decided to wait and see if a booth opened up. When Zack arrived, he was starving, so we decided to sit. We were given the prime spot (no booth) in the front instead. I was pleased that neither the host nor the waitstaff batted an eye at my attire – athletic pants, hoodie and the worst fashion faux pas of all, Uggs (hey, it’s been raining, I just came from yoga and I’d originally planned to pick up take out).

We decided on a margherita pizza, a side of sautéed spinach and garlic, and a wild nettle, shrimp and farro dish. I picked out a glass of corbieres, and our waiter, upon Zack’s request, suggested a California chardonnay. It was too oaky for his taste, but I liked it (I usually find California chardonnays too buttery). It worked out okay, though. Our waiter mistakenly thought that they were out of the corbieres, and brought an excellent cotes du rhone instead. A few minutes later, he found the corbieres, and wound up comping the cotes du rhone.

The spinach and the farro arrived together. Brilliant green and tender, yet with a little bit of a bite, studded with mellow cloves of garlic and bathed in a sheen of olive oil, Zack marveled over how such a simple spinach dish could be so sublime (take that, Daniel Patterson!). Although the portion of the farro dish was on the small side, there was a generous amount of sweet white shrimp. The wild nettles, which I’d never tried before, were quite tasty. The texture was sort of like broccoli rabe, but tasted a little more like swiss kale. There was a bit of heat to it too, but I’m not sure if it was the nettles or the sprinkles of red pepper that contributed the heat. I thought that they used just a little too much oil, but all in all, it was pretty tasty.

The pizza arrived shortly after we started on the spinach and farro. It was a prime specimen of what a wood fired thin crust pizza ought to be. The crust was blistered and charred in a couple of spots, crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside. The sauce was fresh, tangy and sweet with a bit of zip, and there wasn’t an overabundance of cheese. As much as I love it, I think there is a tendency at most pizza places to go overboard with cheese in order to cover up an inadequate sauce. Also, when there’s too much cheese, the pie winds up getting really greasy. That being said, the cheese itself was excellent – I think it was ricotta. A smattering of chopped fresh herbs lended a bit of freshness, as well. Nitpicking notes – the crust was very thin, but not cracker thin, just the way I like it nowadays. However, if there were any more toppings, it might have made the crust soggy. Since the pizza was served on a plate, building steam between pie and plate, I think the crust lost some of its original crispness in the inner part of the pie as we worked towards the last few slices. I think that if it was kept on a peel, some of the moisture could have been absorbed.

Dessert was tempting, but we were feeling pretty full, so we skipped to the check. All in all, it was an excellent meal, and highly recommended by the both of us. Despite its pedigree, hype and hipster factor, the service is surprisingly unpretentious. I wouldn’t say it was cheap, and there’s a pretty high markup on wines, but the ingredients are very high quality and the prices aren’t bad for what you get.

New 100 word Sentence

I surveyed the earth so dearly bought, just a small grassy valley before the armies lined up here an hour ago, observing the ruthlessly efficient process of stacking bodies and collecting all articles of value, the bloody afterbirth of battle, and I pondered the cold calculus of struggle, how any side ever claims victory when so many perish and so many more suffer in war, how any cause could justify such slaughter, my heart growing heavy as the busy toil of cleaning up continued undisturbed by my troubled soldier thoughts, continuing long after I left the horrid place for camp.

Time to get Netflix

Zack and I have been renting quite a few movies lately. With ticket prices as high as they've are nowadays, we're pretty allergic to the theaters. Now that most of the holiday movies are being released on DVD, we've been catching up. Although we still have yet to see Munich and Syriana, I feel that we can give a more accurate Oscars analysis (about a month late).

Walk the Line

I've always loved Reese, way back in the days when she was in Man in the Moon and most especially, Freeway, so I'm thrilled that she won. She deserved it. Joaquin Phoenix was also excellent, and it was amazing how much he sounded like Cash. It was certainly Best picture nomination material, but as John Stewart put it, it was "Ray with white people."

Capote

Great film,andin my opinion, the best this year. Phillip Seymour Hoffman deserved his Oscar, though Heath Ledger really gave him a run for his money. It was fascinating to watch how Capote's ambition to complete In Cold Blood winds up destroying the lives of so many people around him, and ultimately, himself. Self-absorbed, manipulative and charming, he gambles with the lives of those he professes to care about, but by the time he realizes what his actions (or lack thereof) cost, it's too late. "I will never get over this," he says at the end. And he never does - we are told in the epilogue that he never finished another novel, and that he died of complications related to alcoholism. Though we don't get to see the 20 years of his life after his work on In Cold Blood was completed, we can certainly understand why and how.

Brokeback Mountain

I really liked this. Was it better than Crash? Yes, I thought so. I'm not sure that it was the best picture, though I thought that the cinematography was gorgeous, the story was tragically compelling, and Heath Ledger really surprised me. I love Jake Gyllenhall's work, but Ledger's performance stands out. Philip Seymour Hoffman certainly deserved his Oscar, but Ledger's performance is so subtle and nuanced, I almost think the Oscar should have gone to him. A few side notes - the notorious "tent scene" happened way more quickly than I expected. I mean, here we have this slowly paced pastoral film in the mountains, then all of a sudden... oh, um, okay. There you go. I guess that's how it was written in the short story. Also, while I wasn't surprised to see Michelle Williams' boobs, I was rather surprised to see Anne "Princess Ella Enchanted Diaries" Hathaway's. Guess she won't be making any Disney movies anytime soon.

Good Night and Good Luck

I liked this also. It might even have been the best of what I've seen. David Straitharn's performance is really strong, though Ledger and Hoffman gave the standout performances of the year. The way Clooney edited actual news clips and interviews with what he shot, plus basing the scripts on the transcripts made for a pretty fascinating look at the McCarthy area.

One, okay, two, final words. I saw Crash back in September, and I liked it, but I didn't think it was all that. With hindsight, I can say that it wasn't nearly as heartwrenching as The Constant Gardener, it didn't have the gravity of Capote or the grace of Brokeback Mountain. I though Matt Dillon was very good, but there were no standout performaces, like Reese or Joaquin or any of the other nominees. People like to talk about the editing techniques and the multiple storylines, but we've seen that before... in Short Cuts and Magnolia. And frankly, I thought the editing techniques in Good Night and Good Luck, were much more clever. Although it was billed as an art house/indie movie, I found it to be very mainstream. I thought to myself, give this director a few more years, and he'll come out with something truly spectacular. Who knows? Maybe he will.

City Bumpkin

For all my dearly bought education, I am somehow less cultured than those around me who might be considered my peers.

I walk among you, I look like you (thanks to those aforementioned Spaniards and Irishmen and Englishmen) but I am different. Since I was not raised in the country, I call my experience that of a "city bumpkin." It is sort of a chip on my shoulder, sort of a mark of shame, to be as undereducated about a lot of important things as I am.

As I write this, I realize that it is just a fact about me that I lack the cultural background many have. In a sense, it is neither good nor bad. It is also completely up to me how I proceed from here. What is past is prelude.*




*This is a quote, and I must admit I don't know where from. If I were cultured, perhaps I could cite it properly! :)

Fast Fiction part whatever

When the larger scope of a relationship fades from memory, trivial details remain. The kind of soap my wife used will always bring back the day we had to say goodbye. Her watch still sits on the counter; it is still twenty minutes fast. I hold fast to tiny things she touched, wishing her items were animated with her energy.

A person, a sense of a person in any case, amounts only to the minutae in the end.

Dreams in daylight

Here are a few fantasy visions I have now:

-To win enough money in the Lotto to not have to work anymore.

-To see places in the world I know only from friends' stories or books

-To Meet George R. R. Martin

-To have a beer (LENT IS ALMOST OVER)

bless you, friends who've heard my voice

This weekend, Con and I watched a little video of a slumber party.

I've noted this before, but the footage brought this fact into sharp focus:

I have an annoying voice. It's LOUD and grating.


Thanks for being my friend anyway.

What I can do

In order to try and stave off the anxiety that is bothering me, I have memorized a verse from Proverbs:

"An anxious heart weighs a man down, but a kind word cheers him up."

Proverbs 12:25