A Lingering Burn

It’s been over two months since I watched Portrait of a Lady on Fire and, in some capacity, I’ve thought about it almost every day since. Below is the review I posted to my Letterboxd profile.

“This film’s emotive qualities are boundless. On one hand, the limitations placed on the characters’ societal and romantic aspirations provoke a deep frustration. On the other is the affair’s overwhelming beauty, which intensifies by the second. 

The poignancy of the final scenes in the art gallery and the theater is staggering. This is one of the most well-crafted love stories of all time.”

Trick or Tweet

I was invited to participate in a “Trick or Tweet” contest this week. The ask was to tell a scary story in 140 characters or less (including spaces). It proved to be a challenging endeavor—and a fun, albeit brief, distraction. See my first attempt below!

The door was ajar. Odd, but I had left in a rush. I checked each room and got in the shower. Then I saw the shadow outside the curtain.

The Best Sandwich in NYC

On top of mounting apprehension about Election Day and the gradual, inevitable acceptance of dystopia becoming the norm…once again, a cuisine has entered and remained in my mind so steadfastly that I have no other option than to write a gluttonous post.

A couple weeks ago, I discovered my favorite sandwich on the planet.

Behold: The Chicken Katsu Club

This vibrant, savory tower of perfection can only be experienced at Golden Diner, located almost directly under the Manhattan Bridge in Chinatown.

Golden Diner augments the traditional American diner menu, creatively (and impeccably) applying an Asian influence. We found the menu so intriguing and inviting that we struggled to cull down our order more than in any other New York dining experience I can recall. And, despite over-ordering, we departed without a crumb of leftover food—only plans to return.

As for the aforementioned Chicken Katsu Club…

The chicken katsu is juicy and tender, and its breading is impactful without being too heavy.

The bacon delivers crisp texture and nostalgia from bygone mornings at the local diner.

The cabbage slaw is delightfully creamy yet crunchy enough to complement the rest of the sandwich’s textures.

The taste of the Japanese milk bread is subtle, holding the layers of this behemoth together but not competing with its flavors.

Despite how opulent this sandwich sounds, it’s also pragmatic. The ratios of its contents are so well-proportioned and assembled that they don’t slide around at all when biting into them. Ultimately, the Chicken Katsu Club’s thoughtful design matches its deliciousness. And I think that’s what solidifies it as my favorite sandwich in New York—a city that knows how to assemble memorable meat and bread concoctions.

To close with some additional selling points for Golden Diner: It serves breakfast all day, as any respected diner should, and the chefs/owners have curated a short but spectacular list of organic, biodynamic wines.

Golden Diner is firing on all cylinders—a true staple of Lower Manhattan.

Impeccable for the Internet

I’m not the music fan who gets possessive over their favorite artists. Some artists transcend sonic satisfaction and make your life better. And, when that happens to me, I can’t wait to share it with others. My closest friend played “The Season / Carry Me” by Anderson .Paak in the last week of January, 2016. Five and a half minutes later I knew, unequivocally, I had found my new favorite musician. To my thorough satisfaction, .Paak’s music has only improved over the past four years. Below is an essay I wrote on his NPR Tiny Desk Concert—one of the most fun, generous live performances I’ve watched.

Washington, D.C. – Anderson .Paak demanded the attention of new listeners and entrenched himself deeper in the hearts of already steadfast fans

“If you know this shit, sing along,” .Paak suggests to a confined room of NPR employees before he commences his 16-minute spectacle of confident, sensual, and superbly smooth musicianship.

Devoted music fans across the globe tune in for each new installment of NPR’s Tiny Desk Concert series. For many, it’s the optimal way to discover new artists or experience an unconventional execution of a familiar song. There have been several standout performances since the internet series’ conception—but few have matched the diversity and virtuosity of Anderon .Paak’s genre-bending set.

Seeing .Paak nestled behind a drum kit, a pair of tinted sunglasses, and his band, The Free Nationals (a team he affectionately refers to as his “only friends”), the viewer truly believes there’s no place the Oxnard, California native would rather be. He effortlessly navigates between his vocal and percussion duties, even sprinkling in digs with impeccable comedic timing—often at the expense of the group’s guitarist, Jose Rios. His confidence permeates the room even in the face of musical snafus. When the rest of the group neglects to join in on a refrain following a quick “Help me out, now” from .Paak, all four members smile and shoot each other mischievous glances before harmoniously chiming in when the opportunity quickly comes back around.

After energetic renditions of “Come Down,” “Heart Don’t Stand a Chance,” and “Put Me Thru,” off the cherished (albeit not widely known at the time) 2016 album Malibu, .Paak offers his NPR audience the opportunity to shout out a request. The offer is immediately met with a timid suggestion of “Suede?” from a female voice at the back of the room, eliciting laughter from Anderson and The Free Nationals. .Paak verifies the young professionals’ appetites for the track’s subject matter: “I talk a lot of shit on this record, is that okay?” After unified and eager nods of approval, the group quickly confers on the execution of the unrehearsed song and begins, the effortlessness and festivity more potent than ever.

In the following weeks, as the concert received widespread exposure across internet platforms, it ignited genuine pride for his longtime admirers and a curiosity and appetite within his burgeoning fans. Was the world ready for more Anderson .Paak? As .Paak himself would put it: a resounding “YES LAWD!”

Japanese Design

I had to get this written down to complement my persistent fatboi daydreams:

I’m blown away by the brilliant design of this Japanese dessert I ate earlier this week.

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is imuraya-1.jpg
^ This is what perfection looks like.

Its form and function are flawless. The wafer exterior prevents your hands from getting cold, while the thin layers of crunchy chocolate on either side of the ice cream enhance both the flavor and texture. Above all, though, this treat encapsulates childhood summers. One bite and I was temporarily back to being a kid again, enjoying a warm night at The Cup in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. For me, the best part of ordering an ice cream cone was always getting to the cone itself. I suppose I was a somewhat neurotic child, but the rapidly melting ice cream always caused me anxiety. Reaching the cone—the ice cream perfectly level across its top ridges—legitimately felt like a reward every single time, regardless if there was soft serve dribbling down my forearm.

As soon as you open the wrapper of an Imuraya Frozen Wafer Sandwich, you are rewarded just as generously. No, I am not affiliated with Imuraya, and no, they’re not paying me to write copy. I’m just thrilled to have stumbled upon this reliable bliss…that only costs $2.

A Brother’s Last Embrace

I recently revisited and modified a poem I wrote in 2011.
2020 update: My dreams are less dreadful, but the fraternal love is just as strong.

 

A Brother’s Last Embrace

For the third straight night

I have had this dream:

My brother and I

Sprinting across an abandoned field.

We are two young boys being chased,

By whom I do not know.

It is daytime,

But the sky is very dark.

I can see my breath as we run—

Clouds of fear.

 

The first two nights

I sense them gaining on us.

My eyes are straight ahead,

But I can feel their heavy footsteps

Closing in.

My brother stumbles

And I hear his body hit the hard ground.

I just keep running

Or they would have gotten me too.

 

On this third night

My brother falls once again.

This time, I too

Come to a halt.

I see his frightened face

And outstretched hand.

I comfort him with an embrace,

Our last one.

And then they are upon us.