Sunday, August 31, 2008

coffee talk and a recipe

i love watching the people in my neighborhood walk past my coffee shop... it is never boring and almost always rewards me in some sort of character-creation sort of way. A typical morning:

The early cup of coffee is most often accompanied by the early-risers of uptown. Inside the coffee shop suited men and women park their prius's in the red and look nervous if it takes to long to get their iced soy triple vanilla lattes. the "working class" in this neighborhood consists of people my age, usually graduated from college, who park their vespas on the curb and opt for the less-sweet drinks that are packed with caffeine. (did you know that they can actually add caffeine to coffee?) And then you have people like me, who work at night and come stumbling in unshaven in jeans and super-hero t-shirts, for a cup of black coffee and free wi-fi. I am amazed by the homeless people around this part of town. I have this urge to give them my ipod, thinking that maybe 10,000 blues songs will help them get through the day.

And now, to change the topic completely. I've been telling people about this recipe a lot lately, so I might as well share it here.

Jyoti-Bihanga Neatloaf

Neatloaf - served in Sri Chinmoy enterprise restuarants (Ananda Fuara and others around the U.S. and abroad)

4 eggs
2/3 envelope Lipton Onion Soup Mix (the whole packet measures 1/4 cup, so use slightly less or use the whole packet if you like the onion soup mix taste) - for vegetarian version substitute dry soup mix without beef bouillion
1/3 LB low-fat ricotta cheese
1/3 LB firm tofu (mashed into small pieces)
1/4 cup vegetable oil of choice
1/3 cup onions
1/2 cup cooked brown rice
1/2 tsp. oregano
1/2 tsp. basil
1/4 tsp. rosemary (fresh is good)
4 cups (dry measured) Special K (note: this approximately equals 4 oz or 113 grams of the cereal by weight)
1 1/2 tbsp. garlic
FOR THE SAUCE:
1/2 cup ketchup
1/8 cup Dijon mustard
1/4 cup molasses
1/8 cup to 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar (to taste)
Pinch cayenne ground pepper (to taste)

Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.

Sauté onions and garlic.

Beat eggs in a bowl, and then add all other ingredients except the Special K. Mix well and then add the Special K last. Put in pan that is sprayed with cooking oil.

Bake for 1 hour. Pour sauce over loaf after 1 hour, and bake for 10 more minutes.


And if anyone doesn't want to make it, but wants to eat it, I am up for a trip to Jyoti-Bihanga anytime.

Saturday, August 30, 2008

some things i want

I want things that are real. Like rocks and tree bark.

I want a girl who wears overalls in the middle of the city.

I want to record an album of lullabyes, old dark Irish folk songs about unrequited love and hangings, sung sweetly and quietly and a little out of tune.

I want my house to smell like fresh ground coffee beans.

Is that too much to want? I mean, really?

Friday, August 29, 2008

Obama? Yes.

My computer battery is low and I have some work to get done today. But I just couldn't go the morning without saying something about Barack Obama. Last night was magical. It was unifying. Suddenly, I felt like being an American. That hasn't happened for almost a decade. I mean, I basically grew up despising what being an American meant. But last night, I saw a glimpse of truth and compassion that just hasn't existed in an American President since... well, probably since Lincoln.

Will write more later, after I find some power juice for my dialogue dictation machine.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

ten things i think

The ending of His Dark Materials is far superior to the ending of Harry Potter. It isn't even close.

Louis Armstrong singing Let's Fall In Love is pretty much the best thing ever.

Sushi is not something that anybody should be afraid of!

Mornings are made to be caffeinated.

If I ever have a pet Llama, I will name it Dali.

Leaf blowers should be illegal to operate before 2 pm.

Barack Obama will make a far better President than John McCain. The ability to inspire and to lead is something that has been lacking in our government, and while McCain might be more experienced , he doesn't inspire me one bit.

Somebody should invent a silent vacuum cleaner.

Scott Bakula does not age. It has something to do with all of that quantum leaping that he did in the 80's.

Love is a four letter word.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

need to know the lingo.

My older sister is a scrap-booker. She is crazy about it. Rabid. Insane. We were on our way to Disneyland (yeah!) and we stopped at Chick-fil-a. There was an article framed on the wall about how excited the local strip mall was that Chick-fil-a had opened. I totally understand, at one point my now-married-ex and I used to drive 40 miles round-trip at least once a week just to get a chicken biscuit. Anyway, she sees this article, and one tiny line says something like:
Sue Johnson, assistant manager at a scrap-booking store, says her staff is excited about the new Chick-fil-a. "We've been watching them build it, and we can't wait to get some nuggets!"
My sisters reaction: "OH MY GOD. THERE IS A SCRAPBOOK STORE WITHIN SIGHT OF THIS CHICK-FIL-A." Uh-oh. I just want to eat my chicken sandwich and get to Disneyland before the Indiana Jones line starts to wrap around the Jungle Cruise. Well, that wasn't gonna happen. While we did know that there was a SB store nearby, we didn't know where, only that they could see the Chick-fil-a from the store. So we drove around the strip mall (okay, it wasn't just a strip mall. This is So-Cal, where strip malls are the size of Midwestern towns.) But hey, she WAS on vacation, so I just let it slide, and we drove around looking for the place. Seems that Barb has a built-in radar that can detect any scrapping activity within a mile or so, and we found the place rather quickly. She was even an expedient shopper (I think the promise of Big Thunder Mountain had something to do with this) I was a little dismayed that she bought 10 sheets of paper, but she seemed to think that it was the most incredible paper ever made. I have to admit, it was pretty, and it would look great with some die-cut lettering and maybe a cute picture of a baby or a puppy. Anyway, I visit Barb's blog often (here it is) but I am often baffelled by the scrap-booking lingo. She often encourages her friends to play along with "challenges" that she posts. Here is an example, from today's post:

Play along if you can. . . there's a RAK involved.

Basically, all you have to do is make a mini that answers these 10 questions:
What is in your refrigerator?
What is your accessory of choice?
What or who are you crushing on right now?
What is your favorite childhood memory?
Who is your BFF?
What are 3 words that describe you best?
Who do you miss the most?
What are you learning right now?
What is your favorite smell?
What is your most "valuable" possession?

Now, I have no idea what any of this means, but I really want to take part. I mean, she is my sister and it is fun to keep in touch with her. RAK? Really Awkward Kid (which I'm assuming that many scrap bookers probably were.) Or maybe Resplendently Awesome Kibbutz? Ok, I'm just going to ignore that. "All you have to do is make a mini..." ALL I have to do? What the hell is a mini? The only mini's I am familiar with are Ipods and skirts. And I don't have the faintest idea how to manufacture either of those, nor how to get them to answer those 10 questions. But... I need not worry. Because Barb herself has completed the task in an astoundingly short amount of time (HOW DOES SHE DO THAT!?) and the results are visible on her page... I see now that a mini is some sort of small book that involves aformentioned paper, pictures, and die-cut letters. Hers looks amazing, while mine would surely resemble an Eric Carlyle book that as left out in the rain and then run over by a garbage truck. So I'm doing answering her challenge in a way that suits me better. For each question, I've written a haiku... here you go:

loaf of bread with mold
a single leaf of lettuce
makes a fuzz sandwich.

shove into my ears
the music of bruce springsteen
someday i'll go deaf

i can't really say
because you never do know
who might read your blog

alone in the woods
where they build big houses now
explore my kingdom

he lives in boston
and likes to beat on the drums
my big-footed friend

imaginative
unfuckingbelievable
compassionately

blue eyes like mine
she lives in the place I'm from
my sister, which one?

how to make new friends
make them read the stuff I write
what is a Buddhist?

February nights
Jacaranda trees in bloom
the smell of purple

a quilt made for me
it begins to fall apart
from drying my tears


There you have it. My RAK Mini response to Barb's Challenge.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

LeRoi Moore

I found out today that LeRoi Moore died- which makes me very sad, since I had spent many happy hours listening to Dave Matthews Band, and being a sax player myself I always felt a special connection with him. I was hoping that he would recover from his accident in time to play with DMB in San Diego this summer.

If I have one defining memory of LeRoi's music, it would have to be a version of Long Black Veil that he played alone with Dave during the encore at one of their Gorge shows. There was something about the way his tenor saxophone matched up with the mood of the song. It was dark, there was some smoke in the air, and the whole place just took on this mood... like we were all living within the song. I got chills, and I still do just thinking about it. A close second would be his flute solo at the top of Say Goodbye. The guy was amazing, and the world is a less musical place without him.

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

The most interesting girl in the world, or Devrie Peters, Where Have You Gone?

Isn't life filled with people that you knew once, but not any more? Your best friend from third grade, the old man who used to live next to your grandparents, that girl (or guy) you fell in love with for two weeks last year before discovering that he/she despised caffeinated beverages (and smelled a little like smoked salmon). We must have a filing cabinet of sorts in our brains, with head shots and stat sheets for every person we've ever met. I've got a "top drawer" in my cabinet, reserved for people who make my head spin, people who I wouldn't mind spending a friday night with, or driving for weeks in an old VW bus across the American Southwest in search of... something. You know that scene from the Muppet Movie, after they've met Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, and they pile into that awesome bus and just start driving? That is how I imagine my journey with my top drawer. Then again, that whole movie is basically a blueprint for how to live a happy, fulfilling life.

So I've been filling in the gaps in my top drawer... people who I "used to know" and who have left some sort of void in my life by me "no longer knowing" them. The internet and facebook are great for this. Anyway, the lovely lady for whom this post is titled is the perfect example of a long-lost top drawer-er. And I've found her! And you know what? It took her no longer than two or three minutes and two or three mouse clicks to get me laughing harder than I have in months. Really, no kidding. As amazing as Dev is, her blog is even more amazing. (chickenspandex, and yes, it is just as funny even if you don't know her)

Another way of looking at the filing cabinet of life: Bokononism

Monday, August 18, 2008

short update

ok. the human body is pretty amazing. check this out: miracle baby

speaking of miracles, we found a dog that a friend had lost this morning. all weekend long we searched high and low for the adorable beagle puppy named Hudson. he bolted into an area with a bunch of canyons and a bunch of coyotes. we weren't so sure we were going to find him. this morning, someone else did, and he is now home safe and sound. whew.

thats all i've got for ya. whew.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

coffee + internet = blog post

I have nothing to write about.

Well, other than confessing that before I go and see Shakespeare, I do need to read the plays and reference them in Issac Asimov's nifty guide to Shakespeare (check it out here). Otherwise I am liable to totally space out... I mean, come on. I was raised on Thundercats and Clifford the Big Red Dog. Wasn't one of those kids who read Hamlet when I was twelve.

My superhero t-shirt collection is growing. I have specific criteria: the shirts need to feel old (soft, worn) and they need to feature old-school portrayals of genuine heroes. In short, they need to look like I've had them since the 8th grade. And a few of them I actually have.

I bought coffee three times today. Mostly so I could use the internet. I mean, it is free, but I feel like a codger if I go there and sit down and start checking my facebook without buying something. Plus, it gives me a chance to say hi to the pretty barista. Thats all I say, because I am shy. But maybe, someday, I'll write her a poem and hide it in the coffee beans.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

poetry

a lot of people tell me that they don't like poetry. i don't know what they mean. there is poetry everywhere. music, especially. everyone has a favorite song writer. thats poetry. the problem is that when most people think of poetry, they think of greeting cards and long-winded collections of 19th century dead white europeans.

playwriting and poetry writing are close cousins. the advantage that the playwright holds over the poet is this: his or her words are going to be read out loud, they are expected to be read out loud. and by people who feel a strong desire to deliver some sort of message with them. in fact, playwriting is nothing more than poetry in disguise. especially with someone like tennessee williams. i wish his plays were more uplifting, in the end, but no one can deny the magic of locking into one of his monologues and just disappearing into understanding his character's emotions.

a short poem

life has rough edges
it is sewn together
by hand stitches and bargain-store thread

i watched her cut the pieces,
carefully but without hesitation
and was amazed by the way she matched the colors
and the stories that they told.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Iowan Drama Society

I'm writing a play that takes place in Clear Lake, Iowa. I've been listening to Buddy Holly non-stop because his ghost makes an appearance in the play (or does it?)

I'm also doing some research on crazy tourist attractions in the midwest. I've always been fascinated by things like this. Probably because when I was a kid, we actually went out of our way to see things like this. Road trips with me are a nightmare, especially if you don't care about giant fiberglass animals or the a parcel of land once owned by Wyatt Earp.

In any case, this feeling of Americana/nostalgia/innocence play a role in the story I am trying to tell. A couple of kids (20-something) from California are forced to spend a night in Iowa. Sounds boring, right? We'll see what happens.

On another note, I'm going to see the Brewers play the Padres today, tomorrow, and Thursday. I'll get to see Jeff Suppan, CC Sabathia, and Ben Sheets pitch. They are 68-51, and they haven't had a record that good since I was in between being zero and one year-old. And speaking of babies, I was tricked into holding one last night. It was cute, but it was crying. It went like this:

Baby (wrapped up in a cute afghan): waaaaaaah
Dad: Oh, everything is ok little guy.
Baby: waaaaaaaaaaaah
Dad (to Ashley): He doesn't like Shakespeare.
Ashley scowls at me.
Baby: WaaaaaaAAAAaaaahhhh
Dad: I really need to get his mom.
Ashley: I'm sorry, sir, you can't take that... baby... back inside. (transl: Shut that thing up. You're stupid for bringing him to the theatre.)
Baby: WaaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaa
Dad: Well... could you hold him for a second?
Ashley: No, sorry. (Do I look like a babysitter?)
Ashley scowls at me again. She goes inside.
Baby: WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH
Dad (to me): Would you hold him for a second? He really needs his mom.
Me: Ummmm... do you really want me to?
Baby: WAAA WAAAA WAAAA
Me: Well, if its ok with you-
Dad: Here.
The babe goes into my arms. I don't really know where to grab it. I mean, its a little bigger than a football, so I just hold on tight and remember not to drop it on its head. For a split second I worry that mom and dad might run away to Mexico and leave little baby with me. Ashley comes out of the house. Scowls at me and the baby. She has a soft spot, but its not for babies. I only held the kid for maybe a minute when mom and dad came out of the house. I kinda felt like I was just getting to know him. And I actually felt like I had accomplished something. I had, for about a minute, successfully kept the little guy alive. He was crying the whole time, but I returned him to mom in no worse condition than when I received him.

A note: I smelled funny the rest of the night. And he spit up a little on my tie. But I now have no doubt that I can someday successfully fulfill the duties of parenthood.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Stealing Rolling Stones

So I didn't invade my ex's wedding leading an army of sword-wielding shakespearean actors. That means I have my anger issues in check. Which brings me to today's topic: The Buddhist Precepts. If there is one thing I've learned while "studying" Buddhism, it is that there are about ten thousand versions of how it should be taught. Lots of guys with names I can't pronounce think that they know how you should go about meditating, thinking, and acting. And they each have their own take on the precepts. A list of about ten (or thousands, in some sects), it looks an awful lot like another list of ten that we are all way to familiar with. Anyway, here they are (as I understand them):

1. Don't kill. People, of course. But take it a step further. Unless you are going to eat it, don't kill it.

2. Don't steal. Ever since the advent of mp3s, this has been a tough one. My take is this: my downloading a Rolling Stones album illegally does actually have an adverse effect on the universe. I haven't figure out what it is yet, but I believe that it does. Have to work on this one...

3. Don't desire too much. This is the sex one. But it goes further than that. Sex isn't the only pleasure whose desire can cause problems. Food, drugs, new clothes, Rolling Stones albums. Desire leads us too far into the future, and away from the happiness that is here and now.

4. Don't lie. Huh. Easy enough, right? So why is lying bad? You tell a bum that you're sorry, but you don't have a quarter, even though you can both hear the change jingling in your pocket. Its not about the quarter (but you should give it to him), its about the relationship between you and the bum, you and yourself, you and the universe.

5. Don't cloud your mind with intoxicants. This one has always been confusing. So many people seek a sort of enlightenment using drugs, and if enlightenment is also the goal of Buddhists, then the two should go hand in hand, right? No way, Jose. You might think that to be wasted or stoned or on a crazy trip is to be enlightened, but it is a cheap, quick, and unearned enlightenment (and therefore not enlightenment at all.) Ain't nothin' thats worth nothin' if it didn't take good, hard work to achieve. And poppin' a tablet or lighting a bong ain't hard work.

6. Don't criticize others. Be gentle and friendly and honest. But remember that any pain you cause with your words and actions is actually pain you are inflicting upon yourself.

7. Don't be too proud of yourself, and don't be an ass to others. You are everything, and everything is nothing. If that isn't humbling, I don't kow what is.

8. Don't covet. Don't be stuck in the past or the future. Goes hand in hand with #3.

9. Don't give way to anger. This one is tough. I remember one day when I was driving downtown with my girlfriend. (My ex, now.) We were going to buy paintbrushes. Peaceful enough, right? I couldn't find the art store. It was hot out. I was getting frustrated. I got cut-off. I yelled an obscenity and punched my horn. For a moment, my girlfriend saw me purely angry. She called me out on it, and my anger grew. By the time we got to the store, we weren't speaking. By the time we got home, I had ruined both of our days. My anger from being minorly inconvienenced on the road had grown into a beastly thing that had certainly affected my universe, and my girlfriend's as well. It might have even had a hand in our eventual break-up. Ok, so we've all felt that kind of anger before. How can you possibly control it? The key is to understand that it is ok to think the anger, but you have to let it go before it become a true emotion, before you begin to actually feel it. Try it next time you get cut off in traffic. There is a moment, just after the incident occurs, when you actually get to decide which path to take. Anger will do everything it can to pull you down its dark, sharp, ugly path. But it is your choice. Make the right one, and the universe will instantly become a better place.

10. We are all the same. You, me, President Bush, Mick Jagger, Osama bin Laden, Billy Graham, Bono, Tom Cruise, your Aunt Peggy, and everyong else you can think of. There is nothing that makes any of us special, and at the same time we are all magnificent and irreplaceable. The bum you didn't give a quarter to is as close to you as your lover.

Whew. Longer than I thought it would be. If you made it this far, thats awesome. If you are interested, thats even better. If not, thats ok, too. But I wanted to make one more point: there is no such thing as sinning in Buddhism. If you break a precept, thats ok. Try harder next time. They aren't easy (if they were, the world would be a much different place.) It is much easier, more pleasureable, and in the short, sort term, it feels more rewarding to break the precepts. But just try, for one day, to follow them all. See what happens. Sit down and think about it for twenty minutes at the end of the day. I absolutely guarantee that you will feel wonderful.