Gimme the beat boys and free my soul

Originally uploaded by kuchen.

A lot of trucks park outside our window every morning with their engines running. The Fed-Ex guy also likes to stop for a smoke break which can last an hour. Many of these drivers like the classic rock'n'roll. The other morning I woke up to Santana's "Drift Away". It's been in my head ever since. It's magic or something.

The deli next door to our apartment, which you can see in the photo, sells a 24 ounce can of Coors for $1.50. If I'm sitting around reading and feel thirsty, it takes about 15 seconds to be back in my chair with a beer. Unfortunately, the deli closes at about six o'clock every day. So this evening I turned the corner and walked a half block to another bodega. I discovered 99 cent Pabst in a 22 ounce bottle! Now that's Brooklyn! It was an exciting emotion, but also melancholy when I realized I have such little time left here in South Williamsburg.

The end of fargone

Well, the initial impulse behind this blog was to try to stay sane in Fargo, North Dakota. Having accomplished that, I managed to visit London this summer and now I'm living in Brooklyn once again. So I think it's time for a new idea. A new blog. We're going to be moving to the Prospect Park-Lefferts Gardens area, so maybe the new neighborhood will inspire something.

My two week break from the restaurant is almost finished. I've eaten Thai at three different places in Brooklyn and Manhattan, drunk a lot of beer in the Read Cafe garden in Williamsburg, watched Jia Zhang-ke's "Platform", biked to P.S. 1 in Queens for an all-NYC show, and read W.G. Sebald in Central Park's Sheep Meadow.

We walk through an unfamiliar Mexico City neighborhood at dusk, past street grafitti depicting Hitler under the word "peyote". Our all-night train arrives in Vienna just after sunrise, when the bakery and newsstand are the only shops open. A small, unattended boat filled with vegetables bobs in a shadowed Venician canal.

Reading W.G. Sebald is like listening to someone else's dreams and not only being interested, but finding hidden meaning and memories of yourself.

I'm full stomach and languid

I was at MOMA earlier today to see Cezanne vs. Pisarro, with Lee Friedlander refereeing. Overheard comments from the spectators included, "Well I've seen enough. Let's get something to eat."

And eat Teri and I did. We took the Q down to Canal St and went to Doyer's. Teri ordered this amazing hot soup which had watermelon in it. After dinner I got a lychee green tea with tapioca balls, and found the straw works quite well as a blowgun. Those tapioca balls really stick to clothing!

M.I.A. in Central Park last Sunday

, originally uploaded by kuchen.

Back in Brooklyn

, originally uploaded by kuchen.

, originally uploaded by kuchen.

Mr. Corking and Me - Peckham in June

Cork Man emerges, originally uploaded by kuchen.

Crok Man painting, originally uploaded by kuchen.

Cork Man's new shirt, originally uploaded by kuchen.

beer by Trac 2000, originally uploaded by kuchen.

How many wharves?

Thinking about stopping for a drink in Covent Garden? Do not go to the Cross Keys. On Wednesday I happened to stop in here with Teri, before her "surprise" late birthday party. I have never seen a bartender in any particular hurry to wait on somebody, but as I surveyed the taps he impatiently insisted on my order. After I randomly picked one, he asked what Teri would like. Here we go.

"A glass of water please."
"Excuse me?"
"A glass of water."
with a sneer now: "Sorry, I didn't catch that."
"A glass of water."

He then began to mumble something to a guy at the end of the bar and I felt a little uncomfortable. We quickly stepped outside and sat on the curb with our glasses, as the tables were all full. The real tragedy of this story, though, is that Crossbow (what I ordered) is the most godawful brew in the world. Why do people like cider?

Oh, by the way, you can drink on the street in London! It's like, say you're walking down the street with your buddy and you find yourself standing under a beautiful maple tree. Well, pull out that bottle of wine and a couple of glasses from your bag and stand there and make it a party!

Teri's party was something of an odd event. It was organized by a couple of her Chinese co-workers, but they couldn't come because of work. So they put us on this bus out to Hackney or Islington or something which took forever. Then we found the restaurant which had a private back room with a big karaoke system and flashing lights. Lu and I sang a poignant version of "Scrubs", but I was disappointed because they didn't have any M.C. Hammer in that damn machine. The evening ended with Lu drunk and clutching the microphone, telling everyone to "find their happy place". Happy Birthday Teri!

Yesterday we chilled with Wendy, our Bushwick comrade. We went to the British Museum and there was a huge group of young South Korean naval cadets, wearing their white uniforms. Wendy and Teri followed them around the Rosetta Stone and Parthenon friezes, taking pictures. Of the cadets. Teri will probably have the pictures up on her blog soon.

A Little Fresher, A little Hou

Ok, I've been seeing a lot of art lately. We went to the ICA on Friday for Martha Rosler's Garage Sale and some of her earlier films/videos. I was not in the mood for such conceptual stuff, though. On a hot day in the summer, I like to look at pyschedelic colors and pop detrius. Because shopping is a chore for me, this exhibition also became a chore. Teri made the observation that it's much more fun to look at someone's collection of junk from their own house, rather than the stuff that Rosler has collected. Later, she bought a 2 pound art surprise from a vending machine in the cafe. It turned out to be a plastic bag which traps the air you breathe into it. Then you can sign it and give it to someone as a gift. Or I suppose keep it on your shelf to remind yourself that you exist.

Sunday we made the journey to the Camden Arts Center, where we found some brilliant Verne Dawson paintings, an Urs Fischer installation, and a David Cunningham sound sculpture. Given 10 minutes, I could've spent about 1,000 pounds in their bookstore.

We also saw Cafe Lumiere, or Kohi Jiko, the new Hou Hsiao-Hsien film this weekend. It's kind of like Lost in Translation, except the two leads are Japanese and have stuff to do during the day. Since it's also a tribute to the Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu, there are a lot of homage shots.

Today was a great day. I randomly stopped into the Chelsea school of art and design, where there were a lot of student exhibitions on display. Then I headed next door to the Tate Britain, where I brushed up on every Briton's favorite painter, J.M.W. Turner. I also looked at some modern stuff like Antony Gormley and Tracey Emin. Emin's work seems to be a very all-encompassing self-identity project. Using sculpture, writing, and drawing to establish a narrative of personal identity. Gormley is more of a deconstruction of that.

Then it was off to the National Gallery, where I looked at all those old guys, like Lippi, Raphael, Holbein, Rubens, and,ok, fast forward to Seurat.

Wow. That was a lot of art. I had to cool down at the pub tonight with Teri, Tim, and a couple more Wapping guys whose names I don't remember.