A SxSW State of Mind

SxSW 2012 from R S on Vimeo.

Awe-stin

 initial, if slightly optimistic list of the shows I’d like to see over the next 5 days. Bring it SxSW!

• Adam Arcuragi
• Buxton
• Nathaniel Rateliffe
• Typhoon
• Seryn

Meet Seryn from Matthew Armstrong on Vimeo.

• The Wedding Present (playing the entirety of Seamonsters! What an effing album)
• Dry the River
• Fanfarlo
• Pomegranates
• Patrick Watson
• Cold Specks
• Of Monsters & Men

A Slow-Moving Orgy

Choriqueso at Polvo’s. Green Chili Pork taco and the Democrat at Torchy’s Tacos. Micheladas (made w/Negra Modelo, of course) at multiple locations. Uchi sushi. Nepali noodle salad at Farm to Market. Sweet potato fries at Freddie’s. A BBQ pork sandwich with jalapenos.  Home Slice pizza. Those lovely rosemary and salt bagels w/cream cheese in the mornings at Once Over. A slow-moving orgy.

Thanks Austin.

East Fairmount Park, Exit 342

A Last Walk in Firenze

Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace a loz cerezos.

This is what is written slightly above eye-level in a narrow street in Firenze.  Pablo Neruda.  All quiet and cobblestone in the dark winter months here, a city of trapezoids and rectangles and of course, Brunelleschi.  Warmth and spring seem distant.  I wish to do with you what Spring does to the cherry trees.

Behind the desk at the hotel, as I gather myself for the walk, is Gurpreet.  From the country.  Hair well-oiled and pulled back, but no turban.  Maybe they are not ready for that here, yet.   I look at him and want to ask, are you that guy from — ?  He looks at me the same way.  Neither of us is that guy.

In the Piazza della Signoria Cellini’s Perseus raises Medusa’s head.  In the darkness the bronze contrasts sharply with the larger, reflective, marble statues, most of large men, uncircumcised, with power contained elsewhere in their thighs, fingers, and torsos.

Near the Uffizi, a young American with a guitar, a voice like Jackson Browne, and a girlfriend.  A folk song.  Had he chosen a better location, he would not need the amplifier.  Back to a night over a decade gone, at a corner of an empty piazza in Venezia, listening to two young students of jazz, one holding an upright bass and the other a saxophone.  Such music under the same blue-black sky!

Portraits of the baby Jesus always with an aged face, often a likeness of a patron or person of prestige.  Not symbolism nor enlightenment, but man’s narcissism, characterizes the Italian Renaissance.

In a modern lounge bar called Oibo, the realization it is time to put the modern lounge bar to death.  With a flourish, the bartender (“save water, drink champagne” says his t-shirt) shows off a long, triangular bottle.  A boutique vodka.  He says it is called Pinky and that it is very strong.

It is the freshness of the pasta and the mannered, acceptable portions.  All pasta should be eaten in a room with dark wooden beams that complement the color of wine barrels.

Modernity is seeing the portals high up on the Duomo and thinking instantly of the Death Star.

This will be the last visit.  A 2009 dirge.  Listen here.

Moments of Big Smokiness

It is difficult, in a year, to come anywhere close to comprehension of a city like London.  At best you perhaps start to understand why it has enthralled so many before you.  London is a city built on narrative and meta-narrative.  I suppose the same could be said about British society.  That narrative was the cornerstone of their colonialism, and if I can remove myself from the weight of that empire for a second, I have to say that they are pretty good at it.  So in that spirit, now ten days removed from the Big Smoke, I’ll be adding some thoughts on particular moments in London.

Halfway Back

Wow, it’s been a long, long time since posting anything.  A couple of reasons for this: first, I haven’t been home much.  Second, I’ve been slightly co-opted into writing another blog (more on that later) and even that one is suffering from the basic problem that third, there’s just no time to do everything.  Ok, fourth is that London is harder to write about because it’s just so massively huge and at the same time massively conventional (no, not boring, just orderly and you’ve got to search harder for things that pique your interest).  They’re there, it’s just…ah, you get it.  Anyway, I’ll try to reignite this thing.  And if it doesn’t succeed then we go the way of the dodo.  Would that be so bad?

Feel Good, Crorepati?

In the wake of Slumdog Millionaire receiving no less than ten Oscar nominations arrived the inevitable hard-eyed scrutiny about what kind of film it is, and whether it deserves our support or disdain.  Let me be upfront and direct about my view: the film is entertaining, colorful, and loaded with enough “exotic” to satisfy Kipling.  It is, however, as some have appropriately labeled it, “tourist porn.” 

A Final Call in Calcutta

My last bit of work business in Kolkata was accompanying the Consul General on a farewell call. At 4:15pm, I clambered aboard the lightly-armored, black Land Cruiser and we creaked our way 2 miles or so through the Maidan to Raj Bhavan, the office and home of Governor Gopalkrishna Gandhi.

Would You Rewind It All the Time?

Mumbai is an example of how it’s possible in the 21st century to visit a city where you can remain blissfully ignorant of The Other India while cheerily making a note to self about how much you just love the Fiat taxis smells, low roofs, analog meters, and all. And it’s a coastal city, which means breezes and vistas of the ocean that my friend Q would say he could just stare at for hours. From many perspectives, Mumbai is where it’s at if you’re going to live in India. 

No Condition is Permanent

I added some music absolutely Afrifunkalicious for all y’all willing to drop some moves on the dance floor. Or your kitchen floor for that matter. Listen with headphones loudly. Like your grandfather’s best necktie, it will shine in your your head for days.

And while you’re at it, I found out where I’ll be for the next 3 years starting in August. Some clues below.

• JMW Turner
• Cockfosters
• AtProud

Still don’t got it? How about the obvious?

Brilliant. You’re invited.

Oh the Places You’ll Eat! (In PDX)

Portland has a reputation for having restaurateurs who take the idea of utilizing organic and locally grown produce seriously.  Since living in Mexico, where tomatoes and beef really had fierce flavor, I’ve missed eating dishes where the quality of the ingredients mattered.  So far, so good.  I’ll be updating this post with reviews of places I’ve dined as they come along.  Perhaps the best sign is that since returning to the US, I’ve eaten at Wendy’s just once, and amazingly, have managed to avoid McDonald’s.