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22 august 2000
sensing my soul some Hoping to swat the 'lonely' bug by spoiling myself, I decided to treat myself to a decent dinner last night at Granita. Alas, Wolfgang Puck doesn't work mondays -- Granita was closed, so I opted for overpriced Nobu, home of raw fish painted on china canvas, exquisite artwork yet painfully temporary, destined to be destroyed beneath my chopsticks before it ever reaches my mouth. The "beautiful people" were out in full force, and as usual I felt woefully underdressed in t-shirt and docksiders. I reflected that Malibu must be the single-mother capital of the world. And when I say "single mother," I don't mean divorced or separated. I mean "he's either away on business, or on a film shoot, or touring," or whatever the rich fuckheads in my hometown do, and she's stuck to take the kid out for a gourmet dinner all by her lonesome. I swear, if I ever get married, I will never be that kind of a husband and father. There's some kind of messed up idea of family around and about the rich and famous. Married. I can't even imagine myself married right now. I'm sitting here praying for my rock band to take off so we can go touring all over the world and make money. That would make me a horrible husband. Fuck marriage. I ain't ready. Or maybe it's just that I wouldn't wish myself on anyone. Yes, there's that low self esteem again. I dunno, all I want is for my life to make sense, even if my hips gyrate towards emptiness in the process. Speaking to Don today, he brings up my inherent inability to make myself happy with regards to the opposite sex. Is there something wrong with my unwillingness to hit on someone who's already dating someone else? Sorry, I just don't go there. More for "his" sake than for "hers". That shit's been done to me, and it feels like crap, so why would I wanna do it to someone else? So, just for the record, yes: I have a BIG problem with the idea of pursuing "attached" women. It's never happened, and it ain't _gonna_ happen. Period. Finito. And then Don brings up that I seem to have a problem hitting on _any_ woman, attached or not... Yeah, well, I'm working on that... Kinda... ~~~ Of course, whenever I take it upon myself to spend over $100 on myself at a sushi bar, I feel a need to record the event ... Course one: Salmon Tartare cake in a soy-wasabi sauce. Course two: Spicy Yellowtail wrapped in crispy colored noodles and tied with a daikon pickle sliver. Served on a bed of cilantro salsa. Course three: Surf clam sashimi in three styles with a side of amaebi, deep-fried head included. Course four: Broiled abalone, in shell, with garlic slivers, garnished with long-stemmed mushrooms. Course five: Steamed black cod in a soy-miso glaze. Course six: Miso soup with manila clams. Course seven: Sashimi platter featuring tuna, albacore, yellowtail, red snapper, and spanish mackerel. Course eight: A giant ball of vanilla ice cream wrapped around a chocolate covered macadamia nut. Served on a bed of powdered sugar rice cakes and garnished with slivers of dark chocolate. It's the next afternoon and I'm still full. And I just noticed -- there was absolutely no sushi in that meal. ~~~ Heading out to lunch with a friend now. Band practice tonight. No time to write. Poet. Know it. Yep, whatever. Bye. (note: since my digital camera has been fried, today's picture is from two years ago, this date) Hmm, speaking of that picture, that's Luny's legs up there in that dark picture. Wow, two years ago today. Has it been that long? 22 august 1999: : didn't write 22 august 1998: vibrating fish : I think I was alcohol'd out. I still feel full. And I don't relish the idea of a hangover before I even get to sleep. [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
