Thursday, July 03, 2008

It happens every July 3 in my lake-kissing, riverfront-abutting, tourist-absorbing neighborhood. Why all these people? Cops? Why the folding chairs and...? Ohhh...Venetian Night. A beat ahead of the actual holiday and partly a surprise, every single year. Oh I do love my funny neighborhood, though. I love it mostly when the river's in charge and bridges go up and boats noodle around.

Great website. The one on the image and its parent site, LOVE IT.

Finally saw Sexo en la Cuidad today. Or should I say....gave myself over to it. You don't actually watch anything that consumerist, bless its heart, you it. Had a very good time, felt quite willing to watch it go where it went. Other thoughts: 1) WRINKLES! They have them. I do too. They are my age. 1a) Quite enjoyed this, even if the ladies top out at a size four. Interesting parallel phenom: Movie about four fat urban chicks? Many fewer wrinkles (much more fabric, though). 2) Ending reminded me unavoidably (not read this a common comparison?) of ending of How to Marry a Millionaire...'slumming' delicious NY meal with chick friends and conquests. Only this is to be a post-happy ending fairly tale, and HTMAM wound its plot up much earlier and more conventionally in the arc, just as the initial deception ends, in fact. But are they that different? Is SITC just more/farther, not different? It's still all about unrealistic acquisition of New York real estate. 3) I would have enjoyed more actual hairdos to go with the clothes, not just long hang-y stuff 4) Jennifer H*dson impossibly self-conscious, like a bad audition tape...what the heck happened there? 5) Poor gays get short shrift always in SITC...they are basically hags, themselves, in bad old connotation. 6) Chris Noth with black eyebrows starting to look more and more like Tito Gobbi playing Scarpia. 7) Everyone in the whole world wears jeans except the people in this movie (and me). I still had fun :).

BTW, in the spirit of unplugging ears occasionally for the bad news I should already know about (I am only sort of an adult), I am actually now living between TWO huge construction projects. The Spire, but also the new 100-story Waldorf Astoria (see pic--Waldorf on the left, spire on the right), going up NEXT DOOR. And when I say next door, I mean RIGHT UP MY FUCKING ASS (sorry). You can actually see a little bit of my building next to it: dwarfed, as it were. Topped. I really am living in the enchanted penis forest here down by the lake. Did Burnham want/plan this?

It annoys me the way that T*p Chef in effect treats the chefs like they plucked them out of thin air or discovered them. I mean, they talk about their backgrounds and stuff, but Stephanie ran what seemed to be and people I know thought was the best restaurant in Chicago. I think it's totally fun to see chefs compete--put all the background aside and compete--but sometimes that dopey show can make it all seem a little too fucking miraculous. Stephanie had already won accolades doing that cuisine in a serious food town...she's not some pixie they plucked off the street. It's like they're patting her on the head sometimes. I guess it's like that with everybody, but it bothers me. I mean--they probably did the same with Dave Lev*tski, I just didn't see it. And that is my foodie, chauvinist (Chicago-ly), crankypuss thought for the day. Great to see her win.

The best thing Verve ever did was rerelease those Ella Fitzgerald American songbook collections in the late 80s, and the best thing I ever did was play them in the way I play anything I love, half to death, thousands of times, rolling the lyrics around my head, for they forged the core of what knowledge I have of those songs. Augmented eventually of course, with many others, especially Frank and Doris, but I think everybody should know them, I really do. And I really didn't. Actually, to be totally honest, the acquisition started with Linda Rondstadt in college, only that's not as cool, right. HEH. HAH.

The ad's been chopped, and maybe pulled, but the worst, gnarliest, fatfuckingphobiest ad EVER was recently released by Subway restaurants, they of the turbo-stale bread and vitamin-less vegetable toppings and profit margins of 95% from their 1/8" of protein per 3" sub. Mean, disgusting, hateful, dismissive, smirky, wrong. If you wanna boycott/complain (I'm doing both), try their customer service form. The gist of the ad (still can't find link) shows a man at a regular fast food joint "needing" deodorant, fatty pants and therapy along with his combo meal....fuckheads.

I finally realized why I like almond and hazlenut-studded biscotti so much: it's the textural contrast...biting into something that's actually crisper than the nut, but not too crumbly/crisp to lose togetherness. Oh that contrast! I love a good plain biscotti.

It is very very hard to think about soldiers over in Iraq and other areas right now, so fucking past their due date, soldiers who are as I see it terrorizing/being terrorized rather than fighting a war in any traditional way we know it. What is going to happen when they are all back? How can they possibly be supported thoroughly enough to really come back from all that trauma? There are so many really broken--literally--people who are surviving assaults that would have killed them in 1969, but are they being given what they need to survive afterward, despite fistfuls of prozac from the commissary? It is very hard not to think about those not remembering history being condemned to repeat it. This war looked like Vietnam five years ago, it still feels like it.

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