Alex stumbled upon a list of titles for groups of animals.   I was already aware of this list, and am a bit  disapointed, since I had been keeping that knowledge in my back pocket in hopes of winning a few bets.

Oh well. 

I think Bloggers should be added to the list.  "A Blather of Bloggers" sounds good to me. I assume by posting this to my website, I am entitled to royalties as the term inevitably enters the public concious.

I have allways found that list to be poetic.  There is a lesson there on how to describe things in a non-linear fashion.  I mean, c'mon,  a 'bask' of crocodiles, or 'bloat' of hippos.    That's good stuff.

 

 

 

I got to Solstice five minutes early, but didn’t walk around the block to kill time for fear that my friends might also be early.  It wouldn’t do to have them seeing me walking around like I was lost.

 

Hey, they have Miller’s Gin! 

 

They also have the best fish tacos and sweet potato fries that that I have had in the city.  The Fish taco is of the fancy variety, besting other shmancy places like Rica.   The sweet potato fry knocks out Taylor’s Automatic Refresher.  

 

I also ordered the Mac n’ Cheese, which was inferior to Delissio, but that could just be  a matter of taste.  (Yes, I guess you’re right, it’s all a matter of taste).

 

None of this changes the top 10  Pound for Pound rankings though, which remain.

 

1. Tomato Soup at Jeanty
2. Ricotta Dumpling at Absynth
3. Hamburger at Absynth
4. Bread Pudding at Frascatti
5. Pork Tenderloin at Frascatti
6. Steak Tar-Tar at Bix
7. Tuna tar-tar at Michael Mina
8. Muscle Shooter at Sushi Groove South
9. Carne Asada Taco   at La Taquiria
10. Meatloaf at Delissio

 

Honorable Mention:    Cup of Coffee at Blue Bottle,  Tamale Lady’s cheese tamale at Zeitgeist,  Pistachio-heath Milk Shake at Taylor’s, Lobster Corndog at Mina, Foi-Gras at Mina, Carnitas Taco Nicks way at Nicks Crispy tacos.

 

 

I thought I was flying out today, but it turns out that my flight is on Friday night.  So now it’s Thursday and I have no plans.  This has only become uncommon recently. 

 

So its Kansas jul2-5, Atlanta 6-10, Manhatton Beach 11-aug7. Vegas Sept 3^rd, Breckenridge December 28^th

 

The shuffle-board trash talking in increasing.   Little do they know that my Aunt’s place in Kansas has one.   Heck, after this week I should be able to take on my nemesis, Dr. Bernice, who cleaned my clock at Austin City Limits last year. 

 

Speaking of that, who’s going?

 

Colleen says hi.

I had a Pimm’s and Ginger Beer at her Foreign Cinema bar before going over to Doc’s Clock to teach a Shuffle Board lesson.   The board was closed because a band was setting up in the back.    A five piece band whose name I never caught playing big band swing softly over tom waitts horns and percussion. 

Which was mildly coincidental considering that I had sent out this WhiskeyTown referencing Guy Clark Lyric earlier in the day.

 

William Butler Yeats in jeans

Got up to play guitar and sing

In some joint in Mission Beach last night

At the door sat Tom Waits

In a pork pie hat and silver skates

Jugglin' three collection plates Jesus Christ

 

Townes Van Zandt standin' at the bar

Skinnin' a Hollywood movie star

Can't remember where he parked his car

Or to whom he lost the keys

Full of angst and hillbilly haiku

What's a poor Ft. Worth boy to do

Go on rhyme somethin' for em' man

Show him how you really feel

 

And then there I was in the mission listening to a horn section that used to play with ol’ Tom.

Bruno’s was my original target, but they are closed due to change of ownership.   I think the fascists closed them down.  Seriously.  Literally.   The night I saw “The People” play there was their last night.  “The People”, despite theirr name, are a Che loving roots reggae band. Who’s more fascist than Che?

 

I don't know, I'm asking.

The new big bend pictures are up.  feel free to add comments directly to the album.   

The only thing keeping the guys at 3QuarksDaily from setting off the Posuer Alerts is that they are really smart.  That, and well placed ice-cream cone imagery.

This dialectic between land and human life achieved its material synthesis, in my eyes, in a series of barns I passed on Route 191, between Grassy Creek and Campton. Still functioning, they had become torqued and twisted with age and environmental punishment, their metal roofs sliding off into the dirt like ice cream slipping from a cone in the sun. Their walls had shifted without giving way, and structures that had once been square had gone feral, turning rhomboid and parallelogram. Most were engaged in an agon with a riotous vine that held them in a death grip while waiting for a nearby tree to drop a limb and deliver the coup-de-grace.

My curiosity was piqued at first, but by the sixth of these barns my aesthetic sensibility was fully aroused and I began naming them as I passed: “Entropy: 1, 2 and 3.” “Time’s Arrow.” Squaring the Circle.” “Elvis Has Left the Building.” “A Practical Application of Non-Euclidean Geometry.” “In Advance of a Broken Neck.” “Waiting for Damocles.” “Unintentional Consequence.”

He does stretch a little bit when he compares living under the poverty line to living in hell.  But it's nice prose, none-the-less.

 

 

 

Liam Neeson got his first lead as Darkman,  played Oscar in Shindler's list, outworked Gibson's Braveheart as the  Roth-splitting Rob Roy.   He was the only Character in the lastest Star Wars Trilogy to out act the CGI yoga, and now he plays Batman's mentor in Batman Begins.

I like Liam Neeson.

I also like the Cowboy Junkies.  Contrary to what anyone might say to the contrary, the two best albums they have done are Lay it Down and Pale Sun, Crescent Moon.  

More on that later. Gotta go to work.

 

Lileks on Woody Allen

Without the ability to make moral distinctions based on motive, consequences, the ethical constructs of various parties, everything is equal, and you end up with people like Woody Allen: a tiny speck of compacted narcissism, revolving around the dead sun in an empty universe. What’s left? Well, thank heavens for little girls.

Not that there’s a heaven.

I noticed a strange rainbow pattern across the face of my cell phone saturday morning.   Sunday I noticed the same pattern on my Ipod.  What had happened friday, that ruined both pieces of electronics?  A gravity wave, ozone depletion, magnetic pole shifts?  

After I half day of of pondering, I hung my head down in defeat, and took my new sunglasses off to wipe my furrowed brow..... and that fixed the problem.

 

 

Someone needs to color up the Harris-maussa fight. This is the best I have seen so far, but it only scratches the surface of the insanity.

 

 

I should have known this weekend would be a strange one. It all started thursday night, after dinner. I was watching my date eat a donut hole, when she said of guy eating an eclair, "That Guy's Donut is bigger than me hole". To say this unintentionally.... I have no words.

Friday I took a half-day to get a haircut that was so good she couldn't finish it. Again, I am not resorting to figures of speech, or otherwise embellishing the story. She said, "I really need to straighten it up around the ears, but I just can't continue. Its overwhelming" .   

This reminds me of the much loved Kids in the Hall sketch where Bruce ejects the 8 track from his beater car exclaiming, "I just can't listen to it while I'm driving. Its that good". We have all made that jest about music, or food.... but the haircut took the cake. And she was getting PAID. That's awesome!

As was the haircut.  Glenda showed the 'mad-skills' she boasted about between cat-calls from her friends M.G. on Jackson. If you want a hair cut from someone who's passionate about hair, go see her at Acabello Salon, on California and Filmore.

Saturday night my dinner at Rica was interupted by a phone call: "We're sending a car, do you want a lincoln or a limo?" Despite the callers' assurances, I was going to have to pay for this ride myself so I said "Lincoln", and 15 minutes later one was out front, driving me to a house party in South San Francisco. Turns out the Limo would have been free. I had outthunk myself.

After the party I ran into a UGA alumni who says that the Bus Stop is the Bulldog Nation's San Francisco Headquarters. That's good to know.

The next morning the Beach Crew called me and said , "where are you", I told them eating bagel on Polk and Broadway", they said "hold on". Two seconds later an unknown woman says to me, "Are you sean? Get in" and I'm now in an Audi driving to the beach with 4 people I don't know. We ended up meeting Heather in the marina and travlling onto Lake Lagunita for a picnic.

The driver was mostly deaf in his right ear, which got me wondering if when you want someone who is deaf in his right ear to turn left, can  you just say , "Hey, Come here!"? And if you want him to move right, qucikly, you could just scream, "RUN!!!!"

No one in the car thought I was funny either.

Later that day I caught the fights. Vivian Harris looked ill after the first half of the first round. By the 5th his opponent, Muassa, was clowning around with him.  Harris was supposed to kill this guy in order to gain the 'respect' he has claimed he rightfully deserved, but instead he was being made to look foolish by the goofy Maussa. By the time Harris was knocked out I was done thinking he was getting his just deserts and was instead feeling sorry for him. And then Muassa hit him again, while he was sleeping peacefully on the mat, which wasn't very Christian. What a strange fight.

The main fight, between Floyd Mayweather and Arturro Gatti was an eyeopener. Most people correctly thought it was going to be a mismatch, but this was masterclass display by Floyd. Floyd is amazing. I'm not sure if anyone can beat him. Gatti couldn't find the corner after the 6th, and had yet to land a punch.

Gay Pride (not my own), the misty weather, a dead cellphone, and lost house keys conspired to ruin the rest of the night.

Its sunday now. I can't decide if I want to go shopping or play soccer. Soccer is the obvious choice, but I hate taking a taxi all the way to Golden Gate park. Who knows what today will bring. OR, as Bill waterson signed off "Lets go exploring"

 

Also: VOTE FOR PEDRO: The Tour. Flippin' Sweet! Pedro offered you his protection, now he offers you his groove. Efren Ramirez, better known as Pedro from the film Napolean Dynamite, is taking his campaign across the country, complete with pinatas and a look-alike contest for all you aspiring Kips, Uncle Ricos, and Lafawnduhs out there. Good times and great laughs are in store as Efren spins '80s hits so you can show off your latest moves. Ligers and members of the Happy Hands club are welcome, but leave the tater tots at home, gosh! Tons of "DYNAMITE" musical surprises in store. Last year's cult-hit movie "Napoleon Dynamite" turned Zubaz, moon boots, Chapstick and Tater Tots into fashion accessories, and it made stars out of a few unlikely characters. One of those actors, Efren Ramirez (who played Pedro) is extending his 15 minutes with events such as this costume contest and dance party. Ramirez will spin records along with local DJ Bernard Cabigon, presumably all playing music you can break-dance or wet your lips to. You will not want to miss him this Saturday night at Ruby Skye.

I’m confident that I can write about my life better than James Lileks can write about my life.  No doubt he can put me to shame writing anything else, except perhaps short poems using three random words—A skill I have developed a knack for. That and writing sentences  that I can put a preposition on the end of.    But no, it is my certainty that no one will come along and write about my life better than myself that encourages  me to continue doing it.    

 

Then there is Mark Steyn, whose latest piece is just like all his other pieces: brilliant in ways I never thought 'brilliant' could be assigned to.   He is to commentary what Townes Van Zandt is to song.   God forbid he ever decides to write about me, I will have lost my only refuge.

 

 

Um. My point is that you should go read more Steyn and Lileks, a suggestion I am inclined to make everyday, but am reluctant to lest I become redundant. 

 

Mark does have a weakness though, one which he freely admits it:  The pun.      Look how long it took him to set up his latest.

 

Any large gathering of world leaders is a waste of time, especially if there’s any kind of permanent secretariat or bureaucracy involved. Mr Bush will be polite at Gleneagles, but it’s no coincidence that his closest relationship is with a man he hardly ever meets in person, and never at the big talking-shops — John Howard of Australia, who doesn’t get to go to the G8 or Nato or the EU and yet works more effectively with America than Canada or any of the so-called ‘major European allies’ like France and Germany. Summits are, so to speak, one huge bluff.

I followed a link off of lilek's site and found these remarks about wine.  Ooops, I think I liked the Pinot:

"It's a naive domestic burgundy without any breeding, but I think you'll be amused by its presumption."   --James Thurbur

 "Naive and yet... chubby. No, hold on: It's a naughty little wine that should be taken around the corner and spanked!" - Televison character Ellen Morgan (Ellen Degeneres) at a winetasting

"Canned metallic overtones" (a sauvignon blanc)

"Tart -- unfortunately not like the woman, more like the green apple" (a gewurztraminer)

"Bubblegum overtones, vinegar hightones" (a merlot)

"Bland, yet dishonest; virginal, yet tarty... vacuous, non-triggering, grudging; evolves into gingerbread" (a pinot noir)

"A 'De Gaulle' wine: with an earthy nose, tall but slightly dead" (a zinfandel)

Amusing peptides. Hints of the Crimea." (a red table wine)

So I bought the new Beck album, Guero.  This is the first Beck I have bought since the Loser  EP, which sported the line “Things are going to change I can feel it”, which graces my blog card.  

 

Coincidently enough, This weekend I was sitting next to Lauren on her new 5^th floor balcony drinking a celebratory bottle French-Oak-Aged Glen Livet, when she said, out of nowhere, that things were going to change, and that she could feel it.    I showed her my card and she  shoved me over the balcony screaming “That’s my line”.   A landed gracefully, ran back upstairs without spilling a drop,  and argued that it wasn’t in-fact her line and that  I always give her credit when I steal her lines. 

Yes, I know I never  give Rich credit. But he doesn’t read, and will therefore never realize how much I steal from him.

 

Back to Beck.

 

It pretty good.  Black Tambourine and Earthquake Weather caught my ear more than Girl, and the ‘rap’ song is wanting. Everything caught my ear on Mutations, so I wonder exactly what people mean when they call this album a return to form.

 

I also bought T.V. On the Radio’s Young Liars EP, which, would have been unnecessary except or the Mr. Grieves cover, that isn’t listed on the track list.    These guys are great. It’s funky, innovative, original and fun. If you liked Soul-coughing and De-La-Soul………never mind. Let me stop myself before I commit more music critic sins. Go find their “Staring at the Sun” or “Dreams” video on-line and check it out yourself.

 

Somewhere around CD 375 in my ripping operation I discovered my long-lost Jamiroquai CD hiding in a Richard Bucknell CD case. Talk about hiding out....

Speaking of hiding out, there is a ‘Red Party’ at the Red wood room tonight.   I’ll probably go. Right after I see Batman.

BRISTO JEANTY-TOMATO SOUP
                  SERVES 6

2 ½ lb tomatoes - ripe, cored and quartered
½  cup butter - unsalted
½ lb yellow onions - sliced
6 ea. Garlic cloves
¼  cup tomato paste
1 ea. Bay leaf
½ Tbs. Whole black peppercorns
1 tsp. Dried thyme
1 cup water (use only if tomatoes are not ripe & juicy)
4 cups heavy cream
1-2 Tbs. Butter
     salt to taste
½  tsp. Ground white pepper
1 lb. Puff pastry - defrosted if  frozen
1 ea. Egg- beaten with 1 Tbs. Water

Procedures:

Melt the ½ cup butter in a large stockpot over medium-low heat.  Add  the onions, cover and cook for about 5 minutes.  Do not let the onions color.

Add the tomatoes, garlic, tomato paste, bay leaf, peppercorns, thyme and water if needed. 
Simmer over low heat for 30-40 minutes, until the tomatoes and onions are very soft.

Puree in blender (working in batches).  Return the soup in the pot.
Add cream, salt, white pepper and the remaining 1-2 Tbs. of butter to taste.  
Bring soup to a boil.

Let the soup cool for 2 hours or overnight (in the refrigerator)
Divide among six 8-ounce soup cups or bowls.
Roll out the puff pastry to ¼”.   Cut 6 sounds slightly larger than your cups or bowls.  Paint
The dough with the egg wash and turn the circles egg-wash side down of the tops of the cups, pulling lightly on the sides to make the dough tight like a drum.

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.
Lightly paint the top of the dough rounds with egg wash without pushing the dough down. 
Bake for 10-15 minutes, until the dough is golden brown.

Do not open the oven door in the first few minutes or the dough will fall

Serve immediately. 

There is nothing more depressing than ripping CD #20 of 500. Especially if that CD hapens to be Adam Ant. Its like getting stuck in traffic in a bad part of town on the beginning of a long drive. Maybe Adam Ant isn't the best example, I should have said Carter USM. Adam Ant might come in handy at some parties and comes up a lot in conversation. When he does I always reference "only a lad" which was the song I remember most from my youth. This was before my time, but I had older sisters. Anyhow, speaking of Adam Ant, I was molested by the staff at Joe's on Juniper this evening. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience. The ring leader came by to appologize, but suggests that I should be flattered. Apparently its rare for the boys to get so worked up over a straight guy. He said I had nice genes. I thought he said I had nice jeans, and was ready to respond , "Really! You like them? theyre chip&pepper. I got them at the marvelous little boutique in San Fran for Half price", but then a fairy-band-leader started blowing his whistle and twirling his baton. When I say baton, I mean baton, btw. 

I can't see that happening in San Francisco-- a bunch of gay guys in a restaurant getting all school-girl-meets-rockstar over a straight guy. This is why I tell people that Atlanta is more gay than San Francisco. Earlier in the day Dad and I saw a very muscular gay guy rollerblading (is that triply redundant) and I immediately thought of two things. The oft repeated "What's the hardest thing about rollerblading" joke, and a bit I saw on "Top Commedian" where the guy says "I don't know what it takes to f*ck a man, but there must be some muscle involved". But I was with Dad , so I kept quiet, besides, I'm going to be rollerblading in Manhattan beach most of july.

B-rad had the line of the week, after I nudged the car behind me parking at Halo. I saw the bouncer standing on the sidewalk, while parking, so I asked how I was doing. "Not bad", he replied, "you only hit my car once". Which wouldn't have been bad, for a normal person, but I am an insufferable braggard when it comes to my parking ability (you should have seen the job I did at Joes). So the bouncer, who is huge and tattoed makes that comment, and B-Rad without missing a beat looks out the window and says to the guy "At least you're not a big guy", which totally difuses the situation.

This happened after the fights, which were exceptional. Botha had another top-10 knockout in the first. Just about the whole atlanta crew was there.