B&H, blackberries & beyond the coin toss

B&H:  I hand out with this bloke, let’s call him SC – tall, skinny, pinstriped suit guy of a million transactions and titles at the corner of B&H (I first met him at Zach’s party on Saturday where he tried to guess my profession and came up with Lawyer. Genius).

He looked relatively calm and normal, ala Marvin Gaye shirt. He takes me to the video section and talks a mile a minute about all these technicalities that I don’t know about immediately deflecting the snotty B&H people who talk abruptly and don’t bother to hide their eyes, bantered cruelly with them about the relative goodness of this or that tripod. “I wouldn’t get that one,” deigned a cute Hasid looking like he was coming out of a Nirvana shell – what was his name? Marni – lisped “I’m in Williamsburg too.”

So I come away with 100+ dollars worth of stuff which SC has spotted me because I don’t have enough on my credit card: in 15 minutes I know more than I did before I stepped into B&H, namely that I needed a better tripod, a windscreen and how to twirl and expensive camera.

I’m pretty damn happy because frankly I had a sore throat, a headache, and very little sleep all week and the idea of learning something was frightening.   He gives me two fat books on digital filmmaking and I think I’m in heaven.

Time Out New York: Evidence of a Past Relationship

How you get bloody gift cards: Me and X went to a Basquiat exhibit awhile ago – and got photographed by target. Song calls me at work and I’m barely alive ‘cus I have a sore throat, what with dentist’s ramming their hands in there and caffeine pills and lack of food.  She says she was looking at Time Out and saw this “cute girl, i liked her skirt, and you know i never look at ads” and then saw it was me. (I was flattered that she said i was a cute girl. In the olden days perhaps she would not have been so forthright with compliments, because of her stressing of realness…which must preclude fluffy commendations of beauty…)

anyway…we’re in this month’s issue of Time Out New York in a Target ad.

I remember that day, we sat on a bench and I was exhausted as usual, overdressed, completely patronizing – I bitched about the exhibition and i was pleased that Cole felt the same way…and then Target started snapping away and what do you know, we get gift cards. Upon hearing the news, Mary said:

Are you going to like, kill yourself?

I’m advised to “cut him”:  He never did respond to my email about what the hell his new record label was.  On Saturday, his big night, he texted Ian to tell him to come to his release party and ian texted him back saying – knowing it was fairly evil –  ”I’m going to a party with Miso”….and X says “have fun…”  Oh yes, much fun involving a Where’s Waldo book, group puking, painkillers, screaming at inept cab drivers and my poor defenseless English roommate, a rave on a hippy boat on Gowanus Canal – and staring into the night over the gooey waters remembering his first night djing at Rififi and I bought him some carnations and the smile on his face was so huge, so ridiculous I felt embarassed.
*a good friend* said in response to his behavior:

what a bitch. i’ll cut HIM!

do this: http://www.jacksonpollock.org/

it’ll make everything better.

How to Make Pasta

a bloke wrote:

The key to the dish you made last night is you need to go get some yuppie Parmesan reggiano; mainly it calls for garlic.

Make your pasta, al dente, in advance if you like but reserve some of the salted pasta water (always add salt to your pasta water and NEVER add oil).

In a saute pan with medium heat, add some olive oil, then the garlic, make sure you don’t burn the garlic, add some crushed red pepper and the broccoli. When broccoli is good add the pasta and salt to taste to the pan, then some of the reserved pasta water.

When the pasta is good and hot, plate and then add more crushed red pepper if you desire and throw on the cheese; garnish with chopped parsley.

me wrote back:

thanks for the tips. i will follow them if i have guests. i actually did put some cayenne in there…see i’m really lazy, i wouldn’t saute broccoli separately. i steamed it with the pasta and drained it. and i wouldn’t use a chopping board. i break apart the broccoli with my hands. there would be no knife involved; hence no chopped parsley.

i am literally the laziest cook you’ve ever heard of. why? I cannot explain this. when i grew up my mum spent literally hours making breakfast – homemade bagels, donuts, and baked granola – dinner would be a similarly time-consuming affair with a Korean banquet – later it would slow down to leftovers – but still, you’d think i would’ve learned the art of careful and loving cooking…but alas, my idea of food is two pieces of bread, mayonnaise, and cheese stabbed with a plastic knife.