Late night meal at Mr. and Mrs. Bund. Delicious Malbec, pate, cod, oysters, and the best buttered mashed potatoes I ever had. I’m clearly slipping from my weight loss plan, but take a look and tell me how you can resist?
From early 2004 through mid 2005, Chace and Keith were furious consumers of Shanghai’s cheap and unending decadent swill. They were, of course, stars of this blog during the early years, mainly because they were my primary accomplices in plowing through my beloved city’s heady nightlife. Then, Keith moved back to Vancouver and settled down. Although Chace and Mike and I tried to keep it going, we could never really match the tempo that we had when Keith was here. I think party it was because the city was so new to all of us; we had yet to have the smell of it really embed itself into our clothes and hair back then. Keith was Clark to Chace’s Lewis (Mike was more like Sacagawea), and we all explored ever dirty facet of Shanghai until we couldn’t breathe…and Bi Feng Tang stopped serving pineapple buns. Then Chace left last year, and it was all over. No one in my remaining circle would ever leave a club and urinate over a vomiting patron. I missed that.
So it was with great excitement (and a bit of trepidation) that I returned to San Francisco two weekends ago to celebrate our friend Steve’s wedding, an event that both Keith and Chace had committed to not only to honor the happy couple, but to bring back yesteryear. Plans were made, deals were struck, schedules were worked out. And at the end of the day, all of it was thrown out the window when the drinks appeared in front of them. I had some wedding party duties to attend to, and had to implore the darling Cathy Mar (recent returnee to the Bay Area) to host my out of town friends while I attended rehearsal dinner.
Me (at 5:30 pm): I’ll be up there as soon as I can, probably around 10 pm.
Cathy: Sure, no problem, I’ll find somewhere to take them them for dinner and we’ll meet up at a bar afterwards.
Me: Yes, don’t start drinking until I get up there.
And so it was, that at 7 pm I get the following text message from Cathy: “Your boys are so drunk.”
Of course they were. I should have known better. I scrambled out of the restaurant and took the BART up to the city knowing that in short order, glasses would be shattered against the San Francisco pavement, undershirts would be ripped off and thrown at pedestrians, and worst of all, I would not be there to witness it. I had to see the old magic, I just had to be there.
And when I did see them again, trudging up the slick and rainy slopes of SF toward Chinatown, of all places, for a drunken midnight snack, my heart was briefly at home again. Although both of them are now engaged to separate human beings, wonderful women nonetheless incapable of appreciating the sheer pathos of Chace and Keith’s separation, their reunion forged something breathlessly magical. See for yourselves, their path to regal glory:
One day, when I’ve saved up enough money to take my first overseas vacation in over 2 and a half years, the first place I’m going to go to is Japan. Many of my friends can’t believe I’ve never been there before, given its proximity to Shanghai and the fact that it’s a global hotbed for so many different important things in my life: music, cuisine, art, Catholic schoolgirl uniforms. And yes, I have never been.
Well, that’s not exactly true. There are these “mid travels” like the one I’m on now, sitting at Narita International Airport waiting to board my flight to San Francisco. Sitting here at Gate 14, Terminal 1, I feel that Japan is a lot like Shanghai. Well, at least it’s a lot like Pudong International Airport. I mean c’mon, the airport workers here should be wearing schoolgirl uniforms, at least.
Ok boarding now, 11 more hours before I can sink my teeth into an authentic Cali burrito.
Even from all the way here in China, this Tiger Woods business has really changed people’s perspectives forever.
Case in point: Today in one of my news e-mails I see this headline from The Telegraph: “Tiger tops list of most endangered species in world,” and my first thought was “Damn, things really getting bad for Tiger Woods!”
I just finished up reading The A.V. Club’s top 50 movies of the past decade. It started from #50 and worked it’s way up. Usually, with lists like this, after a certain point you start to get a feel for who’s going to be in the Top 10, then Top 5, etc.. But I was wholly surprised to see Spike Lee’s 25th Hour as the #2 ranked film on this list. #1 is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which is no surprise since it’s on most of these “best of decade lists,” but 25th Hour hadn’t shown up on the ones I had read and for the most part never seems to be discussed much at all.
However, it is a fucking great film, one of my favorites of all time, and I am very happy to see it ranked so high. If you haven’t seen it, go watch it, it’ll blow you away. Edward Norton, Barry Pepper, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and Bryan Cox are at the top of their game here, as is Spike Lee. I know that Lee tried to make this film about a convicted drug dealer spending the last day of his freedom before a long prison sentence into a reflection on post 9/11 New York right after the attacks, but it’s how Norton’s character and his friends sift through a wide array of fear and confusion and sorrow that ultimately makes this the most human of movies. Go watch it.
From a text message conversation about a corporate Christmas party earlier in the evening with Ms. Wang:
Her: What should I give a white guy as a gift? The budget is 50 RMB.
Me: A handjob on Aomen Lu.
Her: Hahahha, gross. What do you think about a gingerbread house.
Me: Wait…I get the feeling that you thought I was kidding about that handjob.
I want to be like my BFF Vivian and start blogging from everywhere except in front of my laptop. I finally upgraded my WordPress to versions 2.8 and can now use the WordPress iPhone app. And naturally, I am now blogging this from my desk on my laptop.
Anyway, I’m hoping that since I have intercourse with my iPhone almost every waking minute, I can start blogging more often now in more frequent and spastic spurts, just like Viv does on her wonderful blog.
Or, I can do what I’ve done the past couple of years and just not blog at all.
Why do some lucky fools get to see hot girls making out with each other on the subway, and I get to see some old dude clipping his fingernails?