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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
lunes 05/03/2004
Two more storyettes that are not about food, and one that is not about a movie
one
John and I had dinner a few weeks ago with Fernando and Marco at Wasabi, a loud �Hip & trendy� sushi/Japanese place in Long Beach that if I am remembering correctly was once a loud �Hip & trendy� clothing store. Some adjectives don�t change I guess, even sarcastic ones. Normally Pine Street seems to struggle a bit for patronage, but this was a day before the Grand Prix, so there were actual crowds wandering the streets, and the restaurant was equally crowded. At times it was hard to tell employees from patrons since there is an apparent hiring requirement that all wait staff must be tattooed, and the crowd there that night was of a certain sort.
We were sat at not the greatest of tables, stuck between a table with a not so well groomed party and stairs leading down to the lower level restrooms. The not so groomed party included a flip-flop wearing man who looked as if he had not bothered to wash or care for his feet in well over a decade, and the stairwell was fun because an odd distinctly disinfectant smell would occasionally waft up.
Despite this, the food ranged from acceptable to good, with assorted generic wussy sushi (unagi, tuna, California rolls and the like), and a large slab of salmon, which made up in heft what it lacked in flavor. Actually, that may be too critical. It was good fish, just not great fish. The only real sort of food problem we had was that John�s request for extra veggies and no shrimp in his tempura was forgotten. Then again, he gave me the shrimp, so maybe it wasn�t a problem after all.
We played catch up that night, talking about work, and Fernando & Marco�s search for real estate, which left me feeling glad that John and I bought our house when we did. If we were just starting out now, there�s no way we could afford to purchase our home and we don�t even live in that great of a neighborhood. There�s a water store and a check cashing place a short walk from the house, not exactly a sign of the well to do.
I�ve never understood the insistence that our crazed real estate market is a good thing. In most places, an inflated real estate market is an indication that people are investing only in property and material goods, a sign of weak investment in business and thus of an economy in trouble. In Southern California it�s somehow a measure of a growing economy, despite it resulting in fewer and fewer people being able to afford to actually live here. Why exactly are families living in garages, and multiple roommates barely able to afford rent on a one-bedroom apartment a sign of a strong economy? Eh, I�ve never understood economics.
Anyway, between the loud music, the loud constant drone of customers, and my weak voice, I eventually gave up on contributing to the conversation, and spent time looking around the place. While studiously avoiding looking at the dirty talon footed man (who by the way had a whispy pony tail despite his thin barely there hair); I glanced at a photographer wandering the restaurant, presumably taking publicity photos; stared incredulously at the menu over the bar advertising nato sushi, a decidedly gross sounding prospect; and off in a corner by a bus station, I caught a couple of the tattooed female employees looking at our table, giggling the way young women sometimes do when checking out cuties. At a guess, I would assume they were checking out Fernando, �cause he�s attractive in that folks across the room will check him out kind of way.
two
John and I made the trek out to Hollywood last week to once again see a flick with Alex. This time it was Connie & Carla at the Arclight, a newish complex built to wrap around the Cinerama Dome, and one of the priciest theaters in Los Angeles. Fourteen bucks gets you one adult ticket that entitles you to reserved seating, an usher to show you to your reserved seating, another to announce the movie, large American fat assed sized seats, a good sound system, and �ambiance.�
I�m not sure it was really worth the price. Considering that members get free popcorn and tickets after seeing a certain number of flicks, if John and I actually lived out on that side of town, paying extra money may make sense, but we don�t, so maybe not. Anyway, the woman seated next to me tossed her trash on the floor of the theater during the movie so whatever �ambiance� they were trying to create there was quickly lost.
That was the theater going experience, as for the movie, it was cute.
three
The latest issue of Iron Wok Jan is out, finally (sort of) answering the all-important question of who won the battle of the egg roll challenge cliffhanger from the last issue. My tastes in manga tend to run somewhat towards the girly. Iron Wok Jan, which I count as one of my favorite titles, is not a girl title. No cute & ernest protagonists, no cute crushes, no cute art, and no cute sweet boys sweet on each other.
Instead there�s food; a crazed, arrogant beyond belief main character, Jan Akiyama, who is out to become the best Chinese chef in all of Japan if not the world; food; other young chefs aiming for the top; arrogance; female characters with breasts the size of their heads; food; crazed dead grandfathers obsessed with revenge; food; weasely food critics out for revenge; more arrogant chefs, cause there�s nothing quite as arrogant as a chef; and to top it all off, even more food, with just a dash of arrogance.
I�ve tried explaining the series to friends, but they can�t seem to get beyond the competitive cooking aspect of the story, ending up thinking that I�m reading a Japanese comic book version of Iron Chef, which it isn�t, as there is an actual story and actual characters to it. Besides, I don�t think there was ever an Iron Chef episode where in the midst of a fierce competition; someone slaughters birds by the dozen to make a fresh blood egg dessert.
This is definitely not an American comic, in that while much of the cooking in the story is interesting and drool worthy (the egg roll competition produced dessert philo wrapped egg rolls, egg rolls wrapped with pounded chicken meat, and even crab filled egg rolls), some of it does go into um, unusual territory. Well, at least unusual to American tastes where the more food is removed it�s natural state the better. As someone once said, we�ll happily eat that cow as long as it doesn�t look like a cow. The folks in the manga are cooking up parts of beasts it would never occur to some to even consider eating (frog gonads?), and serving up food so fresh it might still be blinking.
Considering that I�ve been reading total girl titles like Fruits Baskets, Erie Queerie, and Gravitation, maybe it�s a bit odd that I like the aggressive nature of the story. Then again, I�ve also been reading and enjoying GTO, so maybe not so strange after all.
More later,
nico
oyendo: Wind howling through the trees, and Mochi & Spanky chasing each other round the house, in other words, acting like cats
want: For Mochi & Spanky to stop chasing each other round the house and to settle down and take a nap, in other words, to start acting like cats.
elsewhere: Mochi joined a punk band?