“[T]here’s no shortage of hipsters worthy of our mocking. But our challenge is to make the distinction between the artists and the pandas. Otherwise, when the next generation finds its own Jackson Pollack, John Coltrane, or Dorothy Parker, we’re likely to stifle their talents with our misappropriated cynicism. Or worse, we’ll turn them into a joke.”—Robert Lanham, “Look At This Fucking Hipster Basher,” The Morning News
Mine aren’t so bad as my mom’s—if it’s grey and constipated out enough she has to lie down on the couch and pass out. But maybe it’s something that’ll get heavier and heavier with age. What if I end up having to move somewhere like Los Angeles? I don’t want to have to drive everywhere!
I was recently informed by Mr. Payne that this is the “million billion dollar question”.
What say you, fellow Tumblrs?
In April I was really drunk at a show and, out of my hatred for being at shows alone, made friends with the nearest lonely person I saw: a man clearly several years older than me. At the end of the evening I told him, “I don’t wanna do that, thingggg, where, y’know, you make friends at a show and never talk to them againnn, it’s unrewarding. So, like, we should trade emaillllllls, y’know.” I don’t know what made him agree to this, but he gave me his card, and when I got home I sent him a note, just to say hi, and thanks.
We emailed back and forth for a while, and he invited me to a show and dinner beforehand (Him: “Let me act like I have a respectable income;” Me: “It feels weird to be treated by someone I don’t know too well, but I have a tough time turning down free food and entertainment!”). My friends told me it was a date; I told myself it was just a sympathetic older friend treating a younger friend to a night out. I went, and had a lot of fun, and learned that the guy is 32, and at the end of the evening still didn’t know: was that a date?
More emails back and forth. He invites me to another show (sans dinner this time, but he treats me to a bottle of water), and though I’m tired and have to leave early I do have a lot of fun!
I don’t know why I didn’t email him for like three weeks afterwards, but I felt bad so I sent him another email last Wednesday. Just to say hi. And he said hi, and told me what he’s been up to, and he follows my Twitter and I’d mentioned Steve Buscemi so he asked me about that, and I talked about Interview and Ghost World… and speaking of Ghost World, he wasn’t going to try and sleep with me, was he? I mean, he was nice and all, but I liked having him as a friend, and oh gosh I must have sounded so obnoxious thinking that just because I’m 20 and have big boobs he would want to sleep with me, ha ha ha, but I just, I didn’t want it to be awkward, y’know?
And I’m still waiting on a response. And it’s been a week, and I probably won’t get one, which is… pretty much the answer I’m going to get, I guess. He probably never wants to see me again. And it’s so disappointing ‘cause this guy’s so cool! Was I naive to think that maybe I could just hang out with this guy without there being sexual tension at all? I’m not upset that he wanted to sleep with me—that’s flattering. I’m upset that I’ve lost a potential friend and there’s nothing I could have done about it except be smart. I feel like such an asshole.
I mean, all throughout middle school and high school, my closest friends were guys. And sure, I had crushes on a lot of them, but eventually those fizzled and made way for genuine friendships. My best friends James and Will are, I described them once, “the testicles I never had.” Daniel is my very, very dearest friend in the entire world, and yes, we dated for a long time and I really really liked him so it can get a bit awkard, but we need eachother and we make it work.
Maybe that gift of unadulterated friendship between members of the opposite sexes only happens when you’re still unadulterated, and if that’s the case I really hate having to see it go.
TL;DR: I don’t know if straight, adult men and straight, adult women can ever really, really be ‘just friends,’ and the doubt is breaking my heart.
EDIT:BUTT! He emailed me back, and he hasn’t been trying to sleep with me, or anything like that. God, I’ve never been so angry and so relieved at the same time.
A while ago Missy asked me for illustrated steps on making onigiri (rice balls). I hadn’t forgotten! I just didn’t have occasion to make onigiri. UNTIL LAST NIGHT. And it’s really simple. So! Here goes:
Start with some leftover Japanese white rice. From the cooker, from the pot, whatever you have.
Transfer to bowl and sprinkle in furikake (rice seasoning. Makes the rice more exciting). Mix well!
After mixing up the furikake in the rice you should fathom just how sticky white rice is. Seriously, really old Asians use this stuff as glue. So, before you go about forming the onigiri, VERY IMPORTANT: WET YOUR HANDS.
(As you can see, having a dishes-free sink is not crucial to onigiri manufacturing.) Now that your hands are nice and wet—think barrier-between-hands-and-rice level—scoop up a handful of rice and mold it between your hands like you’re packing a snowball.
PRO TIP: if your rice is super fresh and hot, the water should protect your little hands from catching ablaze. Just be sure to work with your palms and not your fingers.
Rinse and repeat (when I say “rinse and repeat” I mean “rinse and repeat”—keep your hands plenty wet) until you’ve got enough onigiri to take to work/school/picnic/Japanese cartoon convention. (I like three; nice round number.)
Traditional homemade onigiri go for the sort of rounded-triangle shape. I know a lot of moms do straight-up round ones, though. It’s up to you. I mean, really, you’re gonna eat them, not propose with them.
Okay, now this is a complete experiment on my part and I don’t know if it’ll be any good. I tried dusting the tops of my onigiri with this weird citrus pepper thing they have in the J (“sansho”). I did this mostly ‘cause I was out of nori (seaweed) and I still wanted my lunch to be exciting. Edit: the sansho sucked, don’t do it.
PRO TIP if you’re prepared with nori: pack it separately! If you leave it on the onigiri it’ll get all soggy and gross and defeat the purpose of not getting your hands sticky when you eat your onigiri.
I don’t have an adorable bento box yet so I have to go for the very eco-hostile transport method of wrapping each onigiri in its own Saran wrap. But make sure the onigiri don’t get exposed to a lot of air—it’ll dry them out and they’ll get all crusty and yuck.
Super easy! Super fun! Super versatile (try molding your onigiri around a little morsel of salmon or leftover teriyaki chicken or, if you’re into tradition, an umeboshi [sour pickled plum])! Now, even you can enjoy the novelty of being the classmate/coworker who brings “those little homemade sushis” for lunch! Delicious.
I don’t know why I’m so fixated on post-election Iran right now. I think it’s because the closest I’ve ever been to an actual revolution like you read about in history books. I can’t help but think that this will end positively—the world will be ultimately be better for what is happening in Iran and around the world—and I will be able to see it happen before me.
At the same time I know that in practice, in execution, I’m just like the other person on Twitter who is just kind of riding this bandwagon like it’s a meme and acting all vindicated, like “how could you make fun of Twitter now?” Every now and then I’ll see tweets about how Twitter is “starting a revolution” and that sort of self-importance sickens me. This isn’t about Twitter. This isn’t about being able to take part in world social change from your couch or your work desk. This is about human rights. This is about delivering 100% of the democracy you inherently promise in the very act holding an election.
I think right now I’m coming from a basic, almost naive faith in democracy, and thus in people. That in their heart of hearts all people are ordinary and ordinary people are good, and when people lead people and people are heard, good will come of it. I don’t know if that intention makes a difference, though. I know it doesn’t make as much a difference as what I actually do.