Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Boo!

The past couple of years, I've posted a scary story on Halloween.  Since I'm actually writing something else at the moment.  A re-print will have to suffice.  Sorry guys!

Tree Song

Once upon a time...

There was an old tree with black bark that sat in the middle of our front yard. When I was younger, I'd fall asleep on the couch in our living room beneath the blue light of the television with nothing but the oily squeak of wind-strained branches. How old it was, when it was first planted, and what type of tree, I never knew, but it was suitable for climbing. I knew this, especially when I would break sleep at 2 AM staring into the moonlit blinking eyes of a possum bumbling along a sparsely-leafed branch.

Summertime, while always hot, was cool underneath the shock of pale green leaves. My younger brother could be seen rolling around in the mossy dirt underneath with our aged beagle, Rufus. We buried Rufus under that same tree after one of the neighborhood ne'erdowells slipped some strychnine in his water bowl.

I used to tell some of my other friends that there once was a clubhouse perched in the dark branches, tucked behind dense foliage. There was a ladder leading upwards that could only be accessed by tugging on one of the lean, dangling twigs. It was completely furnished with sleeping bags and old posters made from found wallpaper and wrapping paper scraps. I would tell them this as they narrowed their eyes towards the top of the tree, only to be dismayed when I told them we had to tear it down a few years after it was first built when it became infested with raccoons.

It was a voluminous presence on the pathway to the front door. You would look outside when company arrived and see them visibly shift to the tree-less half of the cobblestone walk when approaching. It wasn't imposing in its height, but in its girth. Three men, six feet tall each, couldn't clasp hands and surround the trunk without hyper-extending their shoulders. Several passersby would tell us to uproot the thing for fear that it would rip into our foundation or, god forbid, upend the concrete sidewalk underneath their feet, but we knew better. Many years I'd lived at the same house, but I still noticed how fewer and fewer people would cross directly in front of our house, instead deciding to cross the once, away from our house, and twice, towards our house, while gangling through the neighborhood.

In my adolescent years, I would drag the vinyl lawn chair onto our birch porch and sit with my homework assignments under the spring shade. Occasionally, I'd glance towards the tree of my youth and remember how many times I'd skinned my knees against it while climbing. Even then, I would remember the knotty smoothness of its weathered limbs, some with peculiar bites encircling some of my more sturdy perches. As I sat, I could visualize it as I had in my youth, like a twisted rubber hose knotting off a wound.

Yes, the Virginia house had lots of history, and I could feel it hurtling earthward with each leaf of the tree. Glaring from the pit of its bushy pale top, it never failed to send a shrill pitch of shudders down my spine in a stiff wind.

After we cut it down last year, the city gardeners told me chilling stories of how each thunderous draw of the chainsaw sounded like the shrieking wail of an old woman. They started on a Monday and didn't finish cutting it all down until three Thursdays afterward. Each week bringing in at least two new faces where three old ones had left. It was only after they dragged the trunk from the ground that they noticed its sap, a deep crimson pool in the soil, had stained their hands, clothes, and equipment permanently.

We saved some of the trunk for sentimental reasons. Some of it, my grandfather used to make knick-knacks or picture frames for friends of his, but the lion's share he used to make a rocking chair for my own home and a crib for my brother's daughter. To this day, she hasn't slept a full night since she's been born. As for me, I can't sit in that rocking chair without fitful afternoon dreams of a white-haired woman with piercing eyes pronouncing my name as if it were read from a bill of sale.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Saturdays in the Hawth


Pamcakes!, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

One of the little joys I get out of life on the weekends is breakfast with my wonderful wife. Saturday mornings have been traditionally reserved for the two of us to get some relaxation in after the long week and before the madness of the coming weekend, usually, but the last month has been ridiculous. Traveling, overtime, and other commitments have really stolen this treasure from us lately, so it was with great pleasure that I determined this weekend would be a return to this pseudo-tradition.

In honor of this, I decided to try something a little different. There's several things I've learned about making breakfast since we started doing this, one of which was making an almost perfect egg and also how to slow sautée some buttery potatoes. A golden fleece, if you will, of mine was always to make a batch of pancakes from scratch. I resolved to do this, with gusto, and set out to the supermarket after work on Friday with recipe in hand.

Pancakes themselves are a bit of a trick in that they can be both sweet and savory, depending on your ingredients. Without the right proportions, they go from tender blankets to cinder blocks. My favorites tend toward the sweet and fluffy side, especially pancakes laced with bananas and nuts of some sort. In this sense, the banana and pecan recipe I found was right up my alley. The first one I slapped on the griddle was a little smaller than I like, so I decided to ladle in heaping spoonfuls of batter each time, which presented its own new set of logistical nightmares. Between that first fluffy devil and the last pillowy monstrosity, there were many mutants, but after a while, I got the hang of it as much as I could and this photo is the end result. I often remark that this is a far cry from the first failed omelet I've ever made, but I chalk it up to determination. Well, determination and hunger.

At any rate, here's the recipe on the Food Network website, courtesy of Mr. Tyler Florence. I didn't go as far as to make the maple butter, but perhaps that's best saved for another time and place.

Bon Appetit.

Friday, October 26, 2007

SCRUBS is Back!

Lord, I love this show.  Last night's episode was classic. 

My favorite quote, "Suck it, Tony Shalhoub!"

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

"The International Criminal Police Organization"


Interpol 10/23, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Questionably, I stayed up a bit later than usual and headed on over to Inglewood for the New York quartet, Interpol. At a decidedly bigger venue, the Great Western Forum, than where I had seen them last, The Wiltern, I was faced with the reality of arena floor tickets, long lines, hipsters, and a horrid opening act. Yes, I said Liars were horrid. I don't care if Pitchfork thinks they're super-fantastically-awesome, I think they sounded like some high school Freshman attempting to play At The Drive-In without having ever picked up an instrument before. They were not the main event though, so I should be happy I didn't waste my money.

The best drive to any venue I will ever have while living in the South Bay has to be to the Great Western Forum. While it isn't my favorite venue, the floor is spacious and the acoustics aren't half bad. The screaming nails-on-chalkboard feedback of Liars hung in the air for about 10 minutes after they left the stage and we waited for a good while for Interpol to show, which sucked, seeing as I had to be up early. When the lights dimmed and Paul Banks and company strutted on stage to open with "Pioneer to the Falls" from their latest album, Our Love to Admire, the anxiety melted away.

In my previous experience I had noted that the band blazed through their songs as tightly as any professional band would, but it still amazes me how clean and balanced their sound really is. The set itself was a good mixture of strong singles packed around the middle with a few of their lesser known songs here and there, but it struck me that the band was a bit more conversational than before. That being said, they still don't interact with the audience very much. I don't really believe they need to do so, anyhow, as the crowd was just moving in time to the pulsing rhythms of each song in time, oblivious to the world around them.

My one disappointment was that I couldn't stay for the entire set. It's the first time I've left a show early and for that, I'm truly sorry. There was no encore to be heard and no exiting traffic to fight. One thing I will admit is that I loved them at the Wiltern, but it was surprising to me that their music would translate so well in the arena context, a definite symbol of their success.

As far as this one goes, it was fantastic! It really seems like the only concert I've been to all year, but I know I've been to more. It serves as a reminder that I'll be on the lookout for more until the end of this year and the beginning of next one.

Monday, October 22, 2007

Defy Gravity


Wicked, originally uploaded by kardinalsin.

Yes, we finally saw the blockbuster musical of the year in Los Angeles, Wicked. The way every single one of our friends was raving about the show, you'd think they handed out free money before every performance. As hard as it's been to find time, we somehow carved it out and took in the show Friday evening at the historic Pantages theater.

Interestingly, it appears that our theater datebook has been packed this year. We saw two Culture Clash shows so far and two other musicals, Avenue Q and Spamalot, earlier this year, which is quite a feat when one considers we were restricting ourselves voluntarily. Comparing Wicked to Avenue Q, and even the Vegas rendition of Spamalot is pretty difficult since it is the most traditional of the three, but if I were to rank it amongst the spectaculars I've seen on stage in my lifetime, I'd rank it pretty high.

Cut from the cloth of the original story written by Gregory Maguire, the musical follows the origins of the eponymous Wicked Witch of the West and her friendship with Glinda the Good Witch of the North. The plot casts her in the sympathetic life of an unhappy childhood with an overbearing father and a super-sized chip on her shoulder. Her ambitions and dreams take a turn for the worse with a meeting gone wrong in the Emerald city, and the rest really is history.

Musically, the show is a powerhouse. The songs are well woven into the plot and both leads gave tremendous performances to match. Backed by simple and effective backdrops and superb theatrical effects, the story really wraps you into the rich world of Oz beyond that which one has seen in the films and even read in the books. While there really isn't one number that stands out and sticks in your memory in the vein of Les Miserables or even Avenue Q, the modern characterization of a few famous Oz characters and the inclusion of a human element to the fantastical ring true.

Fascinatingly, the overall themes of friendship, history, and politics run deeper than one would suspect, a testament to the long-running nature of the show beyond just Broadway and the original San Francisco production that one could glean more than just an alternate tale of the Wizard of Oz. For this alone, I can strongly recommend seeing the show while it's still in Los Angeles. Catch it while you can.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Ilha Formosa

We've returned from the Far East and the island of Taiwan to very little fanfare and to a lot of jetlag.  The 15-hour time difference kills you in a new way every day.  For me, this has been falling asleep while catching up on television and coughing up a new color every other morning.  Lovely times.

What did we do?  We saw night markets, day markets, temples, the north parallel, aboriginal Taiwanese, live chickens, mochi donuts, frogs legs, fresh noodles, the second tallest building in the world, smog, packs of wild scooter commuters, shrimping, relatives, a gilded tour bus, millipedes, a spa nestled in the middle of a natural reserve, hot springs, stray dogs, stray cats, stray babies, weight gains, growing pains, and the smallest, densest toy store in the city of Taipei.

I love traveling for all the new perspectives it brings, the people we meet, and the food.  We ate way too much for me to even think about food for a couple weeks, but it was just enough for me to enjoy it as well.  I can't possibly recap how much we did and my impressions of everything without taking a few days to do so, but in the event that I'm inspired, I may just recant and comment on a few of the pictures we snapped while there. 

At any rate, a big thank you has to be said to Grace's family for their generosity and kindness towards me for making me feel welcome to their home and to their country.  Without their warmth I think it would have been a different experience. 

So until the next trip, I remain humbled and ready for more. 

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Out o' Town

The wife and I are off to TW for a week or so to see family and the country. It will be my first time on the island and I'm really looking forward to it! See everyone when we get back!

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

TiVo Fall Schedule '07-'08 Redux

I'm reserving judgment calls on the new Television season until all the new shows have premiered, but here is the story thus far:

Save:
Gossip Girl
Reaper
Chuck
Journeyman
Dirty Sexy Money
Back to You
Bionic Woman

On the Fence:
Life

Dump:
Big Shots
Cane

Unfortunately, this does not help our swollen DVR problem.  We've added Reaper, Gossip Girl, and Back to You to the lineup, which also is detrimental, but then, what would the point of a DVR be if you couldn't record possibly every program available to you. 

Woe to the television addict, what pain it must be to watch over 10 hours of television straight.