[personal profile] aerodrome1
Warm spring day here, bright and clear, though it's supposed to rain and turn cool tonight. I'm just back from walking downtown for lunch (duck and andouille gumbo) and a local craft beer. Sleepy after lunch, but not from the beer. I went out last night to the steakhouse bar to meet Lacey, and we both agreed that we've become lightweights. A couple of glasses of pinot noir and we were feeling it. How did that happen? I'm someone who sits and drinks and talks and is there all night. I'm not someone gauging whether he can drive after only a couple of glasses. Age, I fear...or insomnia and stress.

Anyway...the lovely and long-legged N. at [personal profile] radiokvetch mentioned that she'd like to dine with me in Nouvelle-Orleans, but knows nothing about restaurants there. Well, I'd very much trust N. to take me all over Chicago, so the least I can do is tell her about a few places in NOLA. If she and I were to dine in Nouvelle-Orleans, we couldn't miss going to the classic places--- Galatoire's, Commander's Palace, Mandina's. All very old-school, very New Orleans, all places with sterling reputations. Galatoire's and Commander's are old, old favourites. Really, now: you can't do NOLA without doing Galatoire's.

Compere Lapin--- I really do want to try there. And there's always La Petite Grocery and Brigtsen's. I've been to them one tim each, and I'd like to try them again. And it's always good to have a lovely art-history girl on your arm when trying new restaurants. I'm pretty sure Anthony Bourdain would agree (and Iron Chef Michiba, too).

I'm sipping a vermouth-and-soda. Not a bad day-drinking springtime drink. Eduardo-kun feels very...1920s Paris expat while drinking vermouth-and-soda. Again, something to recommend to lovely friends-and-correspondents.

When I was in Vienna once, I convinced two Americans bound for the Dalmatian coast that the Croatian word for "thank you" was "gullible". It tells you so much that I'm vur' proud of that.

A Moleskine note from a while ago:

So...it is an insult to the sushi chef to dip his creations in soy sauce. It's an insult to the Chinese chef to use salt 'n' pepper or chili oil on what he's prepared. I suppose I'll just stay with takee-outee, where no one can see what I do.

I can't remember what brought that on. Was it just a Food Network comment or had there been an Unfortunate Moment while dining out? That Moleskine entry was probably from the Year Fourteen, and my memory is blank.

A quote from Joyce Carol Oates:

The conservative is one who hates those who rebel against the constraints of a society which he himself could never bear to endure.

That's one of those quotes I'd have loved to throw out as a test question with orders for students to analyze and discuss (be specific and give examples).

A query for those of you who do keep Moleskines--- how long does it take you to fill up a pocket Moleskine? I keep one in my briefcase, but while I do make notes in it, it's not a daily thing. The one I have now was opened in the autumn of the Year Fourteen and it's only about two-thirds filled. I do most of my writing/journaling in an actual hardbound journal. Three years--- nearly three years ---is a long time for a single little pocket notebook. I do have to do better.

The lovely N. at [personal profile] radiokvetch writes:

I long so badly for a little house in logan square/humboldt/ukrainian village, with a yard and room for a piano and all my kitchen gadgets. cooking for people is my greatest love; i'd love to cook for m. de guzman but i'd worry our tastes wouldn't mesh (i am a big fan of greens and cheese, meat is less my forte although i make a stunning roast bird).

Well, M. de Guzman would tell her not to worry. I'd be vur' honoured and flattered to have N. cook for me. I'm trying to be more open about these things, by the way--- I am trying to be less deeply carnivorous. Experimentation is part of still being alive. And a roast bird sounds lovely. I'd be open to a dinner invitation from N. any time, and I'd see if I could find a couple of wines we'd both fancy.

N. also says about her life that things are just so stressful all around. i wonder if i could even leave my bubble of chicago; my dreams of traveling to japan, morocco, new zealand are waning. i feel so old at 25, like my life is already over. God, I know the feeling. I've been saying for a couple of years now that I'll likely never get more than thirty miles from this room ever again. I have to get over that. Japan, Morocco, (especially) New Zealand--- I have to get to aerodromes and rented rooms and new cityscapes and rough coasts. I have to get out into the Far Foreign again. I'd tell N. that she should pack a few pairs of black skinny jeans, her Ray-Bans, and her black bikini and join me. Easy enough to travel light, since there's no need for her to pack underwear, after all. Though I expect she already knows that.

Anyway--- time for another vermouth-and-soda and some reading. And for some decluttering. Jill says she's purged her DVD collection 'til it'l fit on a single shelf. I need to work toward that goal myself. And one day soon I must actually start decluttering my closet. That, I fear, will be painful. Though it needs badly to be done.

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aerodrome1

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