Yuk Bon

I used to be strictly a metalhead. All about pounding drums and searing guitars. I remember when Saladbar in 10th grade gushed about the cure and I mocked her for it (admittedly we’d disliked each other since, uh, 6th grade or so). Or when Eden first played Kraftwerk for me and I was practically physically ill and demanded he remove that sound from the fucking air. I think I did the same thing with My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult, although we were on our way to the Kitchen Club (back in Teh Day) with Nelly and this was during my deepest darkest depression and anxiety attacks, when I’d quit smoking and my friendship with ‘mo ended. I’d quit smoking a while by then, but was still getting horrible anxiety attacks and acid reflux. This was when prilosec was still prescription before they made a low-dose OTC and I was taking that and it was just Not Helping Very Much. Anyway, my point is, MLWTKK came on the radio (how I’ll never fucking know, a pirate station, I imagine, cos who the fuck would play that on broadcast radio is beyond me. Kudos if it was, their shit must fucking spark together when they walk down the street.) and it was just grating, annoying nonsense. I couldn’t even recognize it as music. I don’t know if that makes any sense. It’s like when you’re looking at a picture or something and you can’t see what it is of, but you can see that it has a shape, it’s just…you can’t make the connection. It took Bert and Lis playing Orbital’s “The Box” for me in the car, smoked up and on the way to Subrageous or Taco Bell or something. God, has it really been 10 years? The creaking door sound when it turns dark ambient is still fucking awesome.

So here’s to music I’ve hated but now insist that is fucking JAWSOME

Erasing selective memories coming closer

One day it’ll be a choice. I don’t like it. I mean, the flexibility is nice to have — especially for something traumatic that you just want to get rid of; war, rape etc etc. But part of your job in existence is to be witness and to work through your pain and evolve yourself. And I can see this being used nefariously — and not just in a paranoid Phillip K. Dick dystopian future kind of way, either.

I had (or have? I dunno. We’re still “friends” on facebook) a friend who called me up. Let us call her Agnes. She had broken up with the love of her life because shit happened and anyway, time heals wounds etc etc and several years and a marriage later she gets an email from him out of the blue “i fucked up, you were great, if you’re still angry I don’t blame you but i just wanted to tell you i know you were great” etc. Long story short, they got back together (and are still,) and as far as I know are deliriously happy together. Which is all well and good — forgiveness is a nice thing, after all, and happiness is a bitch to find, so you gotta work for it. Except about two months into their newfound love she calls me out of the blue saying “hey how do you permanently delete files from a Mac?”. I tell her and hang up and then go “Wait. She doesn’t have a Mac.” But I know my friend, and on a hunch (I’m usually really good at these) I call back and tell her off for deleting his pictures of his ex from his computer. Quite frankly, I feel a bit used and dirty and I am Seriously Unhappy about this, so perhaps I am less than nice. She gets mad, tells me he’s backing up the pictures later (…but she’s deleting them now…? just distraction BS…) and anyway I don’t know the situation. I tell her that it’s hardly fair for her to decide what memories he gets to keep, because they’re his memories, after all. She gets mad and repeats that I do not know the circumstances, and I say she’s right, mea culpa, if I’m wrong, please forgive me. She says nevermind and it’s ok, don’t worry about it and since then we haven’t spoken. Which leads me to believe that I was right. But enough about that.

So now think of someone demanding this of you, literally of your memories. Or doing it against your will. Note that one of the reasons given for not freeing some of the Guantanamo Bay prisoners is not “they’re dangerous terrorists and we can’t let them go” but rather “they’re totally innocent but they know too much about our information extraction (viz, torture) methods to be let go”.

Here, have some sonic yoof “Nevermind (what was it anyway)”:

Sleep tight, kids.

d 5
a ..0
e ….4 5 000

D A 0055xx

Reading pratchett, he does go on about humanism and what humanity means. One of my favorite things he’s ever said (or written) is about how all sin boils down to treating people as things. Rape, murder, theft — they all boil down to “you’re not a person, you’re just another thing I can use to get what I want”.

Today I was told that I am part of the problem. Thanks, Little Trouble Girl.

Got my mom a digital camera and made her dinner, camera was a smashing success and I am looking forward to many pictures of her dog, plants, buddhist temple and associated friends as well as family i don’t know. Dinner was also a smashing success — for her birthday I also made her dinner, which was my Porkchops Of The Gods except I accidentally threw in a bit too much hot pepper flakes, so she was kinda gun-shy about me cooking again. But, as I mentioned, I apparently have redeemed myself with: Keema

1 lb ground beef
2 bags peas, ~1000grams total
2 onions, diced
4-8 cloves of garlic, minced or sliced
1/4 of a very large tomato (or 1 small tomato) diced
1 jalapeño, seeded, minced
1 large heaping spoonful of curry powder
1 tsp garam marsala
1 tsp red curry powder
1 tsp red pepper
small bunch cilatro, chopped
1 spoonful ground ginger (or ginger paste, whatever)
1 tsp of olive oil
about a cup of water

oil a large pan, drop the onions into medium-low heat, toss in the garlic after a minute or two (ie, let the onions take a bit more heat than the garlic — garlic burns easier), toss in the tomato and jalapeño and ping everything with salt to sweat it. Once the onions are shiny but not translucent, get ‘em off the heat and onto a plate. Dump the meat in, when it’s getting towards brown, break it up and toss in the garam marsala, red curry and pepper flakes, then dump in the peas in. Stir in the water and let it simmer until the water evaporates out and add a bit more. Bring the onion mixture back in and toss in the ginger, half the cilantro while holding the other half as garnish. Let simmer, stirring to keep it from sticking, until the water’s evaporated again, say about 20-30 minutes total (you’re really waiting for the peas to cook and take the flavor of the rest of the juices in the pot).

Serve over rice, cous-cous or as I did, with a side of pan-seared flatbread and tzatziki, a tomato salad (got the rest of the hugegantic tomato and sliced it, salted it and balsamic-vinegared-it. For jollies I threw in mushroom gnocci as a side, but that was less than stellar with the mom. Protip: mixing the keema with the tzaziki made pure happiness happen in your mouth, I recommend it.

asides: portishead’s new album was good so I bought it. Listened to Bill Frissel’s “Gone, Just Like A Train” and it still is amazing. Modest Mouse in the car = rock out. Eden’s a jerk, I must steal his hat again.