"Richard Evans Schultes, a swashbuckling scientist and influential Harvard University educator who was widely considered the preeminent authority on hallucinogenic and medicinal plants, died on Tuesday in Boston. He was 86 and lived in Waltham, a Boston suburb.
Tangerine is a new Thai restaurant in the west village. If my sources are correct this is the first US venture for a prominent Hong Kong restaurant group. The space is sleek and modern. I think it looks good. The details (glasses, flatware, dishes, chairs) are some of the best I've seen. Obviously someone who knows about design is involved.
The food was quite enjoyable ranging on up to superb. The lobster pad thai was a personal fave. Lots of stuff for the fish and veggie crowd. The service, in marked contrast to everything else, was verging on comedy. I think there is some sort of language and/or cultural barrier adding to the mayhem. It didn't wreck our meal, but others, or even myself in a different mood, might have felt different. They are new, and I think they'll get it together, but for now don't expect too much in that department. On the other hand, maybe that will keep the crowds down for the time being. Quite empty when we went last week, but I bet it won't be for long. I guess this all amounts to a recommendation.
Any links available for info on that broadband two-way satelite company ?
I love food that marks the season and for me early spring (april-may) means shad roe. I remember last year having a great breakfast on Shelter Island, and although I have trouble remembering the exact ordering of events, I know it must have been a year ago because it featured shad roe. It's sort of like a caviar hotdog. We just fry it up in a little olive oil (low heat, maybe 10 minutes, YMMV) and serve with scrambled eggs. I guess people use capers and other stuff, but the taste is so strong, I don't think they're necessary. MB did a repeat performance this morning (with a side of leftover brocolli rabe) and I was in heaven. Spring is in the air. She bought that great piece at Incredible Edibles in Grand Central Station, but I'm sure you can find it all over right now. Here's some info on the mighty tasty shad. Give it a try. You won't be sorry.
Yesterday I killed 2 rats with one hawk: I saw the re-released Japanese animation classic Akira and my first DLP (digital widescreen) movie. Akira is playing at the AMC 25 on 42nd Street, which is a spectacle in itself if you haven't been. It's a five-story, high-tech, high-kitsch multiplex with stadium seating, perfect sound, and NO CUSTOMERS! It's like the home entertainment system from heaven--GO, before AMC declares bankruptcy and lets the whole thing get run down.
Anyway, about DLP: Everything is in sharp focus, the colors are bright and true, there are no hairs or specks, but there is a faint, evenly-distributed grain that runs through the entire image. After a half-hour or so you don't really notice it. No eye-strain, no headaches; like CDs, in some ways it's superior to analog and in some ways not. I'll have to see a non-animated movie before I completely judge the process.
And about the re-released Akira: WOW! I've seen it several times on murky VHS and wasn't prepared for the Blade Runner-like depth and complexity of the widescreen version. The movie's been cleaned up and digitally remastered and everything's bright and sharp. The scenes of Neo-Tokyo are incredibly densely-layered, and when Tetsuo turns into a giant, mutating, HP Lovecraft Mecha-blob at the end, you can see all the horrible, sublime stuff you only thought you were seeing on the video. The little snots at Time Out call the movie "incoherent," but I prefer the Voice's "hermetic." One goes to anime for gorgeous drawing, surreal imagination, and lightning-fast action, not Raymond Chandler-like plotting. Animes are always delphic, weaving together post-WWII nuclear terror, cyborg speculation, and weird meditations on childhood trauma. One thing I'd forgotten about Akira: the characters are naturalistic (i.e., Japanese-looking)--no Bambi-like, swimming-pool eyes. Don't get me wrong, I love the eyes and exaggerated coiffure, but it's interesting that Akira broke the mold back in '88 and '90s productions didn't follow suit.
Paul Leary: Lollapalooza was the first tour where we didn't have to drive our own vehicle, set up our own equipment, tune our own guitars, and collect our own money at the end. That set us free so, we could get a little bit fucked up.
Jim Berry: We all enjoyed it because we played the second slot in the afternoon. I'd be rolling the last case in by 4:30. They always took care of us, gave us plenty of beer and liquor. Our bus was a good escape for Perry Farrell and everybody else who'd want to hang out and not be bothered. No one would think, to look on the Butthole Surfers' bus.
Hale Milgrim: They totally were into improvisation. I'm a Deadhead, and I like the Butthole Surfers for some of the same reasons. This group kept on changing their sets, kept on growing and improvising. I knew that we would have some problems with key accounts that unfortunately are into censorship. I talked to the Capitol promotion department. I said, "Look, whatever you can get the group to go along with, the 'B-Hole' Surfers, would be appreciated [by the sales and marketing staff]." But I knew what I was signing. The A&R people didn't come to me and say, "Hey Hale, we want you to sign the 'B-Hole' Surfers."
Wheel: It was after the band signed to Capitol that the started playing the same show every night, I remember one day after 4 shows that were almost the same I said "You cant do this the same people come to each show" They played some different songs that night.
the prisoner appreciation society
official sister site
(From the very nice blog Dave linked to: Wood S Lot)
is looking for life. And so life means looking
for water," said Arizona State University geologist
Phil Christensen. --AP Story
Every popular press article on Mars has a similar
quote, or line of argument. Mars-Water-Life.
Mars-Water-Life. (Christensen reversed the usual
order, but whatever.) Journalists fear that if they
don't raise hopes of finding ET in the first
paragraph, the public won't read the rest of the
story ("It's just about boring rocks and stuff"),
and scientists are afraid of losing their funding.
We're desperate, as a species, for an
extraterrestrial Daddy figure who's going to explain
it all to us: God's been something of a
disappointment the past few thousand years, so now
we're pinning our hopes on gnarly little beings with
big eyes and chicken hands. I keep hoping some
scientist will tell the Times, "Look, stop putting
words in my mouth about water and life
and all that crap. Chances are excellent
that Mars and Europa and every place else in the
solar system we're looking at are dead,
dead, dead as fucking doorknobs. Please tell your
readers that what this is really about is
astrophysics, geology, chemistry, and other
subjects they slept through in school."
It'll never happen, but I can dream.
