Thought I’d try my hand at a wee bit of live-blogging the media circus that is the Republication National Convention. What you see below is an experiment in reportage without much in the way of accepted journalistic protocol but a lot of smeary musing on my general disdain for conservative politics. Enjoy after the jump.
When it comes to dining, I have admittedly provincial tastes. My gustatory galavanting ends a mere stonefruit?s throw past meat ?n? potatoes. I was anemic as a teenager because I refused to eat anything ?with a face.? I instead tried to enjoy veggies and grains like my animal brethren. Then, I grew round in my 20s because I would only eat things with faces, figuring the animals had already eaten the veggies and grains, so why duplicate their efforts? I thinned out when my writing career hit the skids in L.A. and eating fell below ?living indoors? on my list of priorities.
This is why, despite my relative naivet?, I leapt when I was offered a gig as a restaurant critic for a downtown newspaper.
Mind you, this was 10 years ago when, as a bachelor, my kitchen know-how ended with the beep of a microwave and my food selections had such long shelf-lives they would see Halley’s Comet at least twice if uneaten.
If real food crossed my plate, I probably wouldn?t know what to do with it let alone write about it. And this, despite being raised in a family with decidedly bourgeois tastes and the air-miles to prove it. On a family trip during my early, carnivorous 20s, I remember ordering steak tartare in Paris and then horrifying my parents and the wait staff when I complained that it was undercooked.
When it came to fine dining, I just didn?t get it. But being paid to eat free food and tell the tale? How could a starving artist go wrong? This is how. Continue reading “How to Be a Food Critic…Or Die Trying”
Coming on the?silhouetted? heels of Hamlet, starring Cross Walk Guy, I’m pleased to present “Hula Hooper Crossing.” Spotted this guy at College and Webster in the Elmwood neighborhood of Berkeley, CA.
Sad to report that our documentary film, A Brief History of the Mustache in Cinema, has been shaved from the development slate of upstart cabler The Hair Channel.
Collaborator Cary Carpe and I had been tapped to track the mustache through cinema for the new channel (a sort of E! for all things follicular) after producers had seen my short mumblecore fest flick Beardo, which I shot entirely using Instagram and took atop Cupcake at the Park Slope Hootenanny + Regatta.
After inking the development agreement last month, I Photoshopped a one-sheet from Dadaist Marcel Duchamp?s famed first fit of anti-art ? the graffitied mustache on a Mona Lisa postcard (merci, Marcel!) and began querying potential interviews. Right off, our initial research yielded a plucky tale of cinema, facial hair and entrepreneurship we instantly slotted as the foundation of our film. Continue reading “A Brief History of the Mustache in Cinema”
I?m of that generation for whom the term ?Back to School? immediately brings Rodney Dangerfield?s ?80s college comedy to mind. I was a freshman the year the film came to the local multiplex and I was a sophomore by the time I left high school to pursue a career as a writer.
This may seem like a counter-intuitive career path, but then so was seeing my hero, Kurt Vonnegut, cameo in a Rodney Dangerfield movie. The world, I came to understand, is a patently absurd place.
Sure, using college, or worse, college-themed movies, as a means of understanding the world is a reductio ad absurdum argument. But what else can I do with the years I spent at State studying writing, you know, besides drop some Latin and bitch a bit? Continue reading “Back to School: Is College Worth it?”