My Fantasy Stemware

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Who Am I: Part 376 of an Unordered Series on Existential Inquiry

I have been thinking lately about the relationship between "me" and my thoughts, the stuff going thru my mind at any given moment. Lately I have been forced to realize that I am not necessarily my thoughts; that they are just things that happen to be in my head and I can observe them without necessarily identifying with or even reacting to them. Its an ineresting practice, especially when you have a vivid imagination that is constantly concocting a molten flow of subconscious detritus and injecting it into your nervous system like poisonous curare darts.

Anyways, I was chatting about this and other topics with my therapist and she recommended I check out this dude. He's "hecka" deep (shout out, San Leandro!).

Hey Bourdain: I Love Your Blog You Obnoxious Prick

For some reason I have been smitten with Top Chef for 3 seasons now. I have no idea why -- but I have seen every episode that ever aired; I would even venture to guess I have seen all of them TWICE -- since before they even replaced the original "robotic chirping" host (that's a quote not a judgment) with Padma Laksmi. I don't even really watch TV that much. Ok, maybe I watch a little now that I have cable. But then you take my favorite show and multiply it by my favorite celebrity chef/writer/adventurer Anthony Bourdain and I'm in business.

You might know Anthony B from his food show on the Travel channel. Or you might not. When I mention his name to acquaintances I usually get a wrinkled nose or a "That guy's a DB" type comment. But his guest judging appearances on TC really improve circulation to the verbal centers in my brain and his analysis is usually spot-on, if not, as one contestant contemptuously articulated, "pure evil".

In the Quickfire, Brian, who had earlier been portraying himself as a cross between Jack Palance and Dinty Moore, seemed less comfortable at chuck wagon duty than expected. Hung, worryingly, raced through his challenge as if extra points would be awarded for speed. He then stood around allowing his fish to fester, unprotected, in the wilderness for seven minutes before remembering that he had forgotten, in his race for the finish line, to add the lemon juice. Spice-happy Dale's ethos of "More Is More" came back to bite him (again) -- or more accurately, guest judge Ripert: Eric grabbed at his throat as if gargling with caustic drain cleaner. An unpromising beginning.

Im not saying AB is not an unrestrained, bellicose, narcissistic urban snob. It's just that he's able to articulate that experience in a way that makes him likable. Take Note: That's really all I ask of anyone (myself in particular). Link

PS - Sorry to blog about the boob tube but I've been sick and holed up at home for the last five days with no end in sight. ~Cough~

I Didnt Know Spoon Made Videos

But this one is kinda cool.