If frogs had wings they wouldn't bump their asses when they hopped

I kind of like food, just a little bit. For me it was always about getting nutrition and making sure that I could get through the day. Ok … maybe not. But I was very sad to just learn that one of my favorite fooderies closed. New Yorkers will throw down over pizza. This neo-politan foodstuff inspires arguments equivalent to that of Broncos vs. Raiders fans. For me it always boiled down to what was the “best worst pizza.” Because trying to declare the best pizza for me was like trying to say what the best Scotch or wine is, it’s going to depend on what I am in the mood for. Do I want a crisp crust that you can only get from a wood-burning oven, or do I want a chewy yeasty creation from a thicker crust, and a liberal dosing of the red sauce to bump up the texture. Maybe a little Greek fare with spicing heavy on the Oregano and meat sliced fresh off the Gyro-Log.

Hands down, the best worst pizza in my neighborhood was John’s. It was salty, the Mozzarella was moist and melted beautifully, not like the plasticine stuff Domino’s uses, and the sauce was probably thinned down commercial tomato paste. But their hot ovens would get a wonderfully crisp crust that would crunch and explode with a great yeastiness. It was, the best worst pizza personified. On the way down for some dollar beers a slice of john’s was necessary, or coming back from class where I simply needed calories in my stomach, it was somewhat of a ritual necessity.

Their gyros as well I fancied for their saltiness with a spice subdued by their yogurt sauce. Their tomatoes tended to be a bit dry but they made up for it with an abundance of shredded lettuce and crisp chunks of white onion. This was my lady-repellent.

Alas, as I have mentioned, John’s Pizza and Gyro is no more. Kaput. Off the map. Let’s have a moment of silence for it’s passing.

A Sketch

This will be one of the last sketches that I can post here, I made it taking little dabbles with a different types of charcoal. It's a way to say goodbye; I have said it before and thouroughly believe it that I want you to be happy, I can't be a part of that happiness and in a sense it's a relief not to have that responsibility on my shoulders anymore. And for all you facebook readers click on "see original link" so you can see the scan. I was going to put this up earlier this week, but I can't post the original text that went with the sketch unfortunately. Maybe someday when it's all processed. Je manque vous.

If I was a grape ...

Deep topic, and a nerdy one at that … if you had to be one grape varietal, which would you be? Would you be a Cab Sav. Hitting everyone upside the head with your strong sense of fruit, high acid and pushy ways of getting to the front of a palate. Or perhaps, a Chenin Blanc or Sauvignon Blanc, light, fruity, hints of sweetness, somewhat coy and playing for more attention. Or maybe you saw Sideways and decided to believe in the “fuck merlot way of wine drinking.” Merlot is derided as easy to grow and cheap to produce, it’s wine manufactured on a huge scale and is the first kind of wine that idiot Americans lean how to pronounce correctly. (for all you shits out there who hate on Merlot … namely my boss, but you know who you are, why don’t you sell your car and buy an ’82 or ‘57 Petrus, or really anything from the Pomerol region. There is a very good reason why pretty much any trophy wine is based on the Merlot grape.) Maybe you also watched Sideways and learned the joys in the ode to Pinot Noir. “Oh I am sensitive to the world around me and have to be babied through all of my actions otherwise I turn out like sour Welches…”

Ok, right now I am the Gamay varietal, har har har, laugh it up chuckles. Gamay makes up 96% of Beaujolais wines. Particularly Beaujolais Nouveau …. Which is getting released in a couple of days, on someone’s birthday (the 17th….). But basically Beaujolais gets a bad rap. It’s a red wine, that should be slightly chilled, not a rose, but slightly chilled, and you gulp it, it’s a wine for drinking, not sipping and taking notes and swirling in your glass while hemming and hawing. I yearn to be simple, and quaffed. But for the right person, I want to be complex, and deep. There you have it. (Although part of me does want to be Pinot Noir, Sideways basically ruined that for me, but I have some serious respect for such a delicate wine that ranks as one of my most favorite as well as being the primary varietal in Dom Perignon. Think about it.)

(Insert Witty Title Here)

Hi, quick update, I am sure that I may have something fun and witty to say before long, today, not that day, and tomorrow is not looking so good as well. Maybe Thursday.

On any note, I am still in Casper, therapy is going well, work is also going well, some friction with my immediate boss, but I’m sure that has something to do with him insisting on touching tables about wine when his philosophy consists of “if you like it drink it, and if it’s expensive it must be good.” Now, I am a fan of drinking what one likes and knowing what one likes. I think there is an air to being a sommelier that can seem so stuffy. “Oh my god are you drinking chardonnay with a steak?!?!” (if that steak is veal and the chardonnay is an un-oaked minerally variety with high acid …. Then I might be game to try that out) But the last thing you want to do is go to a table and tell them “hey I like Cab Sav, you like Cab Sav let’s boil off your palate before you dig into that lobster penne…” As well, it’s just hard to take someone’s opinion seriously when they have a self proclaimed love of asti spumanti…..

Seattle is still in the picture. I have been invited to audition for an apprenticeship with Pacific Northwest Ballet in January. That’s exciting, it’s one of the companies that I aspire to, they are doing some really cool contemporary work, and they still have a classical edge. I still have a desire to work with some smaller choreographers and do some small, intimate, very forward work, which I really hope to get the chance to do.

As for right now, I am focusing on getting healthy, learning as much as I can about Bordeaux, keeping healthy, and putting my life back on track.

… Oh and I had to have my eyebrows waxed, not my decision, and it hurt like a bitch. I always had such a respect for women, but eyebrow waxing, seriously, fucking, hurt. And they waxed my little neck hairs. What is it with stylists and whatever ripping hair out of my body instead of simply cutting it off. But I looked pretty, and I guess that’s what they were looking for.