Saturday night, went to No.1 Chinese to celebrate my once lost, but now found cousin's 30th birthday. Glad things change so little when you turn 30: your friends still buy shots of Patron and try to get you shitfaced probably more so now that you're no longer in your roaring twenties but still come on haven't people had enough fun?; you and your friends are still trying to establish careers; you still get stoked about skiing/boarding out West (any of you been to Baker in Washington? supposedly very wicked w/ a lot of a beardies); you still hold onto the belief that there is "the one" out there somewhere and that all the people you've loved and hated and loved again in your twenties were mere approximations of that unmet "one's" uniqueness and eschatological yours-ness, but what's worse is your coming to grips w/ the fact that those exes think of you in exactly the same way: a snipped thread in the romantic fabric of their future (for some reason no joke, I picture a huge fucking sweater w/ like really, possibly infinitely, long arms) though you shudder to think that this is indeed true of them, that they might not miss you or think about you at all in the same way you might not miss them or think about them at all. Ouch.
Friends, when I turn thirty, I would like to be told the truth about the "you're my baby's daddy" thing so if I've fathered any of those lil' tykes I've seen scurrying about this past week, don't pull any punches: just tell me. I will be supportive up to a certain point and then it's all you.
Later that evening, went to Elizabeth's Christmas party. I've been really lucky the past few years to have gotten to know Andrea's coworkers. They're the best: kind, funny, serious cinephiles, and best of all, attractive. Unfortunately, GKirschling had to fly to Louisiana to interview John Grisham about his latest book, "Baseball: What S.J.Gould Didn't Tell You"---what's with these authors writing books on baseball anyway?---so he wasn't there but I figure writing about him in the blog would make him happy.
Sunday night dinner at Blue Ribbon in Park Slope. The king of all cafeterias.
Here's a breakdown of the movies I've seen this past week:
Primer: Top 10. Original. Confusing as heck. Inspiring.
Finding Neverland: Tearjerker. Passionless. Winslet keeps her bosom strapped up.
Million Dollar Baby: An improvement on Mystic River. Clint's great. Terrible cinematography.
posted by alex or eric @ 7:23 AM
1 comments
1 Comments:
once, many moons ago, my family went hiking up mt. baker with another family (british, whole family wore shorts and gators, dad: bearded) and when we got to a valley between two peaks, the parents built a fire as the kids played in the snow. then, this family unstrapped the pack to reveal: a giant pot, a sack of new potatoes and half of a giant round of cheese. they scooped some snow into the pot and put it over the fire to melt. when it was boiling, they threw the potatoes in and put the cheese down on the fire, flat side facing towards the flames. the potatoes were served up piping hot and the dad took the wheel of cheese and ran a knife down the melty flat side, scraping it on to the potatoes.
one of the most memorable meals of my life.
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