Sipper’s Writing Circle: Homecoming

August 26, 2010 § Leave a comment

Two-and-a-half weeks ago, I stepped off of the airplane and into a drafty but familiar San Francisco. Not coincidentally, that was also when I was supposed to write my Sipper’s Writing Circle post on “homecoming.” Because I didn’t want to be influenced by JK and Stamps‘ posts, I promised myself I wouldn’t read them until I wrote mine. Now my curiosity is killing me, so here, about twenty days too late, is my post on Homecoming.

Homecoming from DC: a post about things that are different and things that have stayed the same.

–Things that are different:

I actually like heat. DC has a well-earned reputation for turning into a swamp in the summer, and this summer was the hottest the decade has seen. It almost never got below 85 degrees and was often over 100. The air was so humid that you could drown in it. The sun was so punishing that people sought refuge in tanning beds. And I…didn’t mind. You see, before I departed for DC I promised myself that I would whine and complain about everything–except for the weather–and that’s exactly what I did. Amazingly, I was not only successful in shutting the hell up, but I also began to enjoy the heat. Who knew it would be so nice to walk around at 1am in a t-shirt and shorts? If you did that here in the Bay Area this summer, you would have frozen your nipples into diamonds and cut through said t-shirt. That’s why you have to wear hoodies here. To hide the holes.

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Sipper’s Writing Circle: No Room for Tourists (the food post)

August 8, 2010 § 1 Comment

I don’t know what you’re about to do with that hand, Perry,
but I don’t like it.

I hate motorcycle riders.  Sure, I myself am a motorcycle rider, and I’ve met some riders that are decent chaps, but by and large motorcycle riders frustrate me even more than Volvo drivers or Prius owners do.  And I’m not being masochistic.  I hate them because, the fact is, most of them are goddamned posers.  These “dudes” buy bikes for the cheap thrill, for the image boost, and for the sex appeal but their lust for motorcycles is hollow and without depth.  They are tourists who are content to see but not appreciate, touch but not feel, visit but not inhabit.

When it comes to cooking, I am a tourist.  About a week ago, my writing club compatriot PerryStampsMecium wrote on this topic,

“Society has spent the last few decades learning to eat well, and we are all better for it. We no longer eschew sushi as merely raw fish and we can tell the difference between hamburger meat and steaks. But cooking well has been left behind.”

If you’ll recall, I voiced the same mourning sentiment about our society’s love for cars less than two months ago.  It’s clear to me that for Stamps, food is a passion that stirs his soul–J. Kimball’s kettle is stirred by the same spoon.  Recently, JK named his apartment “point zero,” in part after his cooking philosophy, “zero points for presentation.”  In that way, Perry and Jeff share a love that I will never understand: a steak-grilling, curry-stewing, salad-tossing lust that binds them together.

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Sippers Writing Circle Round 1: moving

July 11, 2010 § Leave a comment

Welcome to Round 1 of the Sippers Writing Circle, a series wherein liveveloce,, and publish periodical blog entries on the same topic. This week’s topic was suggested by JK, and is “moving” as in “moving where you live.” I will update this post with links to the other two posts as soon as they’re up. Enjoy!

It would be a sin for me to begin a blog entry about “moving” without thanking my closest friends for helping me move so many times over the last few years. First from the party pad on Parker to my sophisticated-ish one bedroom on Dwight, then again up to the cold but regal 4th floor throne room. My two year struggle with back pain was never as unbearable as when I had to watch my friends shlep all of my material possessions up and down stairs. Thanks guys.

How does all that stuff accumulate anyway? I remember as a kid I used to love collecting things. I collected everything: keychains, stamps, rocks, coins, stuffed animal monkeys–at one point I even remember collecting the various forms that I found in banks and post offices. Did six year old Justin need to pay duties on the live gila monsters that he was shipping to Guatemala? The answer is no, but boy, would he have been ready.

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