I love it when Albini talks about molecular gastronomy. It has its merits, but the end result of wonderment and excitement are of a slightly different flavor than just really straight-up good food that tickles your soul.
Uncomfortable jokes, what to do with them? Bust them out anyway because if people don’t get it, fuck ‘em? Put it up on Twitter for 2 hours then delete? Only tell your select un-PC friends? Keep it in your heart forever and take it to the grave?
I’ve shut down a dinner party with hilarious but offensive jokes. I can’t decide which feels better, a resounding laughter because I killed, or an uncomfortable silence because I Vulcan pinched the most sensitive, sandy vagina nerve? I do enjoy watching people squirm as they try to put the party back on the straight and narrow track to boring.
Klosterman on spoilers and twist endings, or rather, how fickleness of the Internet peanut gallery affects the psyche of writing. It’s true that twists and narrative devices that seemed fresh a decade ago as in The Sixth Sense or Memento are very commonplace and expected these days.
Can the narratives of our post-meta culture untwist itself but still retain the mystique and bafflement of a Mobius strip? Is ambiguity and lack of closure the new twist ending?
The seeming decline of Marc Jacobs. Fashion is cyclical. No one can stay on top forever. However, Jacobs has been on top for longer than most. I’ve already tired of Alice & Olivia this season, but I so covet the Marc by Marc Jacobs silk summer tunic that never seems to go on sale.
I think one thing the writer fails to express here is that Bloomingdale’s floor space is about commercial appeal whereas space on the floor of Barneys means your label is directional and commercial. Maybe sales has gone down, but I would think Marc by Marc Jacobs is still a hit. You can’t argue with the price point when the clothes trickle down to Gilt and you can snag a Marc dress for $90.
Another thing the writer doesn’t emphasize enough is the difference between the Marc Jacobs flagship label and Marc by Marc Jacobs diffusion line. The flagship, at least maintains some real fashion cachet. And like most top tier luxury labels, most of the sales come from accessories like the now semi-iconic Stam bags.
After mentioning Borges in a previous post, I remembered reading an interview with him from the 1960s. There’s a lot of good stuff in there, like Borges saying he “made this” about New York fucking City.
It’s touching the way, as a writer, Borges fell in love with words. And here, he’s talking about an English word, not one in his native language. It’s like the word “neverness” is the rope bridge spanning across a chasm; crossing the bridge brought us a little closer to the cipher that is Borges.
Kind of a follow-up on race weight skinniness in cycling, and how unmonitored eating (or not eating) regimens are wrecking bodies and minds of cyclists, both amateur and pro.
In a sport that demands rigid weight control for success, it seems only the top tier teams have the resources to monitor and advise athletes regarding diet and nutrition. This seems very wrong, as I’ve discovered, a lay person being careful about diet doesn’t necessarily reap desired results.
I’ve been on the my weird gluten-free dairy-free diet for 4 weeks now. It’s proving way more difficult to maintain weight rather than to gain or lose it. I feel self-indulgent talking about weight like this, but then again it’s an issue that plagues women—nay, everyone—one way or another. My main goal through this health ordeal has been to maintain my weight while drastically changing my diet and not being able to exercise as rigorously. I’d just bought a couple pairs of jeans that were $100+ for $13 each; there was no way I’d deny myself the glory of a bargain well-sought by being too big or small for the jeans.
About a fortnight ago, as always, I watched a bike race in the early morning. It was the stage of Criterium du Dauphine when Bradley Wiggins took the race lead. Seeing him on the podium in his black winter tights, I couldn’t help but gawp at his spindly legs. It’s scary skinny by civilian standards, but in a culture where a human with sub-10% body fat gets whittled down to 4% for increased performance, Wiggins’ greyhound-like appearance is normal if not desirable. This image must have been in the back of my mind because later that day, at the doctor’s office, I asked to get weighed on a whim.
“There was a first edition copy of Black Beauty on the top pile and the bottom was all charred off [from being burned] but the top was just immaculate,” she said. ‘
So Raycraft and her husband plunged in and took over the collection, bringing a small house onto their property to accommodate all the books. They piled box after box of books into the house.
“We’re talking 30 tonnes of books. The weight of the books is pulling the house apart.”” —
A book-loving couple rescues approximately 350,000 books from fiery destruction and now the very weight of the books is making their house collapse.
A true life Borgesian conundrum if there ever was one.
The Libertarian in me is suspicious of government entities collaborating with Coca Cola, a company with questionable ethics. But this idea of disseminating AIDS medicine and health information using Coca Cola’s distribution network is kind of genius. You might as well take advantage of the insidious nature of capitalism to seep into the most remote parts of the world.
Also the irony of “Coke” distribution to deliver drugs is not lost.
“Doctor, we’re describing the technique of a ‘hand job with a twist that stimulates the penis and G spot simultaneously.’ Can I read you our description of this technique?”
“Oh. OK. So it’s not accurate to call it a G spot. Only women have G spots? So you are saying it’s important to call it a ‘male G spot’ or a ‘P spot.’ OK, I’m making a note of that to tell the writer.”
“So here’s the description: ‘Wrap your hand around his shaft and gently bend it toward and away from his belly button.’ Would this motion would be similar to moving a … joystick? Is that accurate?”” —
You do the same work as a phone sex operator, but you get paid a lot more at Cosmo.
Roseanne Barr tells the highly subjective but absorbing story of the rise and fall of Roseanne, the sitcom.
Loving this molecular gastronomy takedown by none other than Steve Albini. These foams and airs are a marvel on the palate and a curious ripple in culinary semiotics. The concept of whittling down an entire wheel of parmesan into airy foam that tastes intensely of parmesan is whimsical, romantic and absurd. It appeals to our desire for transcendence, a reboot into a state beyond the original like housework Cinderella into cotillion Cinderella, Clark Kent into Superman. Cheese foam is beyond a wheel of cheese because it transcended physicality into pure cheeseness. It makes no sense but it makes perfect sense. We find the same myth everywhere, even in dairy products.
But Albini is right: cheese itself always tastes like cheese. Cheese itself is a biological and chemical universe. Why do we need to transcend it when we can just eat it?
A helpful and fair side-by-side comparison of three burgers. I usually love the A Hamburger Today posts, but this one just felt kind of…soulless?
Burgers should be devoured with joy. Dissecting day old burgers (because In-n-Out is from the West Coast) and eating them may be a consistent, fair analysis but it disregards a huge variable: the burger eating experience which is never ever like that. I’ll never know if the Shake Shack burger I had was mindblowingly amazing because we stubbornly sat in the park—shivering with fingertips aching from cold—as we ate the burgers and frozen custard on a freezing late March evening. But honestly, who cares?
Ugh, I’ve eaten soooo many jellybeans but I’m still not a raging, morally upright heterosexual. I don’t think this sugar pill heterosexing method works?