Today, I took my weekly train ride up to Harvard Square to get dinner at Veggie Planet. I got the Peanut Curry on pizza dough, the Chips and Dip, and a root beer float with vegan vanilla ice cream from Toscanini’s. Last time, I got the Blonde on Blonde on pizza dough, the Garlic Knots, and the same float. The food takes some getting used to, and the presentation isn’t meant to mimic anything on the non-veggie side. The setup it pretty unique, and I like that. It’s quite good (though maybe a bit heavy-handed on the salt on both the Peanut Curry and the Blonde on Blonde, and they really mean tofu croutons…), and it’s worth the trip. Can I give a rating? Is that arrogant? I’ll give it a B+. Maybe I’ll do Grasshopper sometime, too.
December 2, 2009
November 29, 2009
This past weekend was one of those weekends my dad came into town. In the course of four days, we drove a lot and ate a lot:
Wednesday
After trying (and failing) at making one of those Tofurkey meals for lunch (due mainly to my lack of proper cooking utensils, I promise), we made our way to Maine. We drove up to Portland, stopping at a few villages on the way up, and made our way back down to Boston. We ate dinner at Peace o’Pie Gourmet Vegan Pizza. Meal at Peace o’Pie: Classy Calzone, MD Calzone, Breadsticks. Peace o’Pie is the best vegan/vegetarian place in the Boston area, and I always stuff myself to the point of nausea with enough food for two or three people. This place is an A+ in my books.
Thursday
Thanksgiving meant that most restaurants were closed. We made our way up Cape Cod, through the end to Provincetown. For dinner, we ate at the hotel restaurant, substituting meaty stuff with non-meaty alternatives. It was still good.
Friday
Friday rained all day, meaning we stayed in Boston and watched football. For lunch, however, we made our way to Red Lentil Vegetarian and Vegan Restaurant in Watertown. I ate the Soy Chicken Strips and Zen Veggie Burger, while my dad ate the Gobi Manchurian. I’ve eaten better soy chicken strips and veggie patties, though my dad was very enthusiastic about his Gobi. I’d give this place a B probably.
We planned on going to a comedy club in the evening, and before that, we went to My Thai Vegan Cafe in the Chinatown section of Boston, just two blocks from our hotel. This place had a good variety of Southeast Asian style food, and I ordered two main dishes: ginger chicken and one of the duck things. The TVP here was of high quality, complete with the legged duck carcass, and I’d give the place an A.
The comedy club, on the other hand, was terrible. Having been to a good number of comedy shows and clubs, I thought Dick Doherty’s Beantown Comedy Vault on Boylston was the worst. The first two acts were terrible, the second actually being the girl that worked the door at the place. In a meandering three or four or five minute act about being from an Italian family, she elicited about five chuckles. The third and fourth acts were okay, especially the fourth, a young guy from the Boston area named Taylor Connelly. The headliner was a guy named Dick Doherty, who may or may not make an entire act out of insulting members of the audience. I wouldn’t know since we left about five minutes in, after he insulted a fat guy in the audience (telling him to “get a fuckin’ neck”), accused two women of being lesbians and told them he wanted to “strap them to the back of a Harley”, told one man his wife was better looking than the woman he usually brought in, called four different guys gay, and made about a dozen jokes about how large his penis was.
Here’s the thing: it’s fine to make fun of people during a comedy act, that’s kind of the point. But when you spend your time insulting members of the audience, that’s no fun. You pay money to go to a club to have fun and feel good about yourself, not to be made to feel rotten in front of dozens of people. The material ought to stand on its own. If you’re gonna reference people, it ought to be cultural figures or people that are in on the act, and not broad attacks on paying customers. I’m glad I made my way outta there soon enough: he was making his way to my side of the audience, and my dad and I were probably the only people in the club that weren’t ostensibly Caucasian. This place gets a D.
Saturday
Saturday, we decided to make our way to Western Massachusetts. My dad and I like to visit college campuses, so we made our way to Amherst College, passing on the way Springfield and South Hadley. For food, we ate at a vegan place in Florence, Massachusetts called Cafe Evolution. With its laid-back, local coffee shop atmosphere, this was a nice, peaceful place to eat in what’s practically the middle of nowhere. The food wasn’t all that different (if at all) from what I’d make at home using ingredients from Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s, but the presentation and taste was still good, as was the choice of desserts (I had the peanut butter chocolate cupcake). I’ll give this place a B, partly because of the good food and good atmosphere, but also because they had Blonde on Blonde playing in there.
Saturday ended with my dad and I driving down to Rhode Island, continuing our thing of college campus visits at Brown, and visiting the Rhode Island State Capitol. Ultimately, it was a nice Thanksgiving weekend with good food and lots of nice, new places visited.
November 24, 2009
Here is a collection of 9 abandoned songs and poems, or rather, stuff that didn’t have a proper collection to go with when they were written. I’ll gather them up along with another song (from 30 October) called Reckless Woman and whatever I happen to write in the coming days, weeks, and months and call it something nice.
My hope is to take everything I’ve written since July–which amounts to about 70 songs and poems–into one collection split into 4 parts.
As for what’s below, there may be some typos, I don’t know. But I like Nashville quite a bit.
Washed-Out Road (27 October 2009)
The night was black and the roads were all wet
I was hopin’ we’d get home alive before we was dead
My heart bled for the old man sittin’ next to me
And that somethin’ livin’ down in New York City
This place is Vermont, but it might as well be without a name
I’ve seen places like this before, they all look the same
Lying, sleepin’ on the side of a mountain so high
The people move like they’re alive, but they live like they’ve died
My headlights are busted, and there’s no lights on the highway
My hands are frozen on the wheel so cold
For once in my life, I stopped doin’ things my way
And look where I end up, on this washed out, lonesome road
They call it New England, but it seems quite old
Crumblin’ brick buildings cry for the time inside they hold
The trees rise up out of the ground like solitary souls
Bone-like fingers reaching out outta the Earth from their holes
The ocean is rough, and the river is fast
Here where the sky doesn’t end, the creation seems so vast
But it ends, doesn’t it, where the roads are swallowed?
By tunnels leading to the city that like my bones are so hollow
My headlights are busted, and there’s no lights on the highway
My hands are frozen on the wheel so cold
For once in my life, I stopped doin’ things my way
And look where I end up, on this washed out, lonesome road
Untitled (27 October 2009)
You pulled my still-beating heart out of my chest
You threw my still-bleeding heart down under the tracks
When the train came, it threw everything away
My blood was on the tracks, and it was there to stay
I walked out on to the other side
I saw God waiting for me there on high
Then I blinked and for the life of me he was gone
But for Chrissakes, for the life of me was never very much
Within my chest the feeling feels so direct
A thousand arrows through the soul that my heart collects
God, he sits there and he silently smiles
While I walk with my head down along the green mile
If you see my heart, may I ask that you please handle it with care?
It doesn’t seem like much, but there’s an awful lot in there
I know it’s not worth so much as you or your precious jewel
But if you set the scale aside and look closely, you’ll see it held you
Your father says he knows me well, says he knows my games
He won’t let me get anywhere near you, won’t let you say my name
At the end of the day, there wasn’t anyone else there to blame
It was the only thing that kept you from having me and from me going insane
Every time we talk, you ask me if I’m mad
I don’t know why you gotta think like that
I think by this point my feelings for you have gotta be quite sure
I may be my mother’s son, but I’m nothin’ like her
It’s late in the afternoon, I’m sittin’ in my chair
Starin’ at the expanse of space on the wall there
There’s a picture playin in my head, but I don’t know what it’s got
The man playin’ me is well done gone, and his eyes are all shot
I’m waiting for that time, girl, that we could be just friends
I think I hate you now, but that feeling will soon end
You’re a strange little girl, and I’ve got no idea where you’ve been
Why you gotta act the way you do every time you let me in?
She’s sick like a snake, she’s wrapped around my finger
She spits up like sick after every song I sing her
She’s all up inside my lungs like a cigarette
I’m all in, and I think I’m about to lose this bet
She’s a voodoo doll, pins and needles all the way through
She laughs whenever she causes pain on you
Nashville (21 October 2009)
I’m sitting here struggling to comprehend this turn of events
I gotta admit, it doesn’t make to me much sense
But I think the time is right for me to hitch a ride
I’m gonna find a bus, and get outta Nashville tonight
The dew is on the grass, the moon is on high
My brain may be dead, but the city is alive and alight
Part of me’s gotta hate you, but maybe you loved me all the time
Maybe you didn’t say anything ’cause the time just wasn’t right
The numbers to this, they just didn’t add up in my head
Part of me regrets ever getting into your bed
But when the time comes, my thoughts they will be clear
My heart won’t be on the line, it’ll be comfortable, you’ll be here
The image of you against the Nashville skyline is burned into my eyes
The reality of me and you is buried beneath half truths and true lies
And the reality is also that I just can’t let you go
Your hand is wrapped around my wrist, and my love is a feeling I can’t throw
You look much too young for your age
Who would’ve thought that you and I could ever feel the same?
I got my elbow on the sill, and my head leaning against the window of this bus
Thinking back on the things that were so little and so great between us
There were Irish nights and drunken barroom fights
It didn’t seem like something was wrong, but something sure wasn’t right
The days are colder and the nights seem less starry
I wish there was some way for me to tell him I’m sorry
I don’t know, but it seems like somethings eating me up
I don’t know what I would have done if it wasn’t for this here love
When my love falls asleep, a fire lights up inside
Desire wrapped up in anger for the time-denied bride
My mind is full of mirrors, and you’re standing in the middle of the room
I thought I knew what the situation was, but I still feel like a fool
Sometimes my stomach just feels so sick
But the feeling passes like a summer wind that rushes so quick
Time sometimes feel so stationary, a minute can feel like a year
And I can appreciate that things aren’t always what they appear
But when I’m with you, and we’re all alone
Tomorrow has come, and we never notice how the time had flown
Like time and feeling, the old clouds moan
My hair is brushed aside and the thunder begins to groan
As I step out the bus, I gotta stop and look around
Where the dirt’s packed under my feet, and nothing makes a sound
I got a feeling that when I get home, I’m gonna have the urge to call you again
Walking down past Highway 23 where Main Street comes to an end
Cracking stalks of grass on rolling stones somewhere beneath the Carolina moon
I should have left Nashville earlier, or maybe I just left too soon
Untitled (~ 28 October 2009)
You’re the first thing I think of in the morning
You’re the last thing I think of in the night
You’re the thing I want the most
You’re the thing that seems most right
The dusty dusk is sneaking on ’round the bend
Brackish water is runnin’ through my veins again
Rising up with the noontime tide to steal back the sand
To steal my soul the way the water steals the land
Untitled (~ 28 October 2009)
The hellhound is on my trail
I can hear him screaming in the wind
I’m a poor old papa’s boy
Who never had a need for a friend
But I got a need for a good woman
Who’ll stick with me through it all
Who’ll listen to what I’ve got to say good
Whenever it is that I call
The only time I ever cried
Was on a dark and lonesome night
When thoughts of losing her
Beat like rain upon my mind
And it was to me such a relief
When I saw her lying there
Looking herself so peaceful
While I fell asleep in a chair
The relentless clock counted down
The hours that went by
Looking at me with red eyes
While the darkness swallowed my sighs
How could I explain to her
How much I loved her as she slept?
Though I was so close, I longed so hard
While in the distance a siren wept
The light always shone on our times together
And this was another one
Even on the coldest winter day
She lit up the skies like the sun
As the tight wind whips around
It seems like I’m now lost
The last branch has hit the ground
And everything I had is gone
Untitled (30 October 2009)
The lilies you give me burn in my hand
The time slips through my fingers like sand
We cast away the dreams we both had
And swallowed the things that passed between us,
whether good or bad
Poem on the River (1 November 2009)
The midnight light comes to rest on woven beads of glass
Signs of the cross through which the air cannot even pass
The girl that walks by, I judge, and say she’s much too young for me
The cool breeze blows that leaves my fingers shaking
Stones cast form the riverboat fall down in shame
Broadway lays itself out on the city street in some shade of pale
And the Ohio flows slowly down beneath the Silver Bridge again
The clouds pull back to show the half moon rising full from the sand
I got down on my knees, to ask the king where I am
He pointed to the sky and said, “You’re in the Promise Land”
So I got into the Jordan, and put my head underneath,
Before my eyes fell out and flowed into the deep dead sea
Clouds rise like fingers of flames (fire) low in the dusky sky
Looking out over the river with you, baby, we know the night’s arrived
If I Die (2 November 2009)
If I die, promise to bury me
Don’t cut short, dig my hole real deep
And when you die, come lay next to me and sleep
We’ll lie next to each other for all eternity
And discuss the tenets of Cartesian philosophy
When I climb downstairs into the shades of my grave
I hear the hellhound cry to me, “I think you’re late”
And I agree, I was saving this moment for a later date
To cross the Mississippi on a ferryboat, set marked the twain
But I decided to wait, until my lover came
To hold her hand and make the crossing in her name
Before soldiered holes tried to chase us away
Fairmont Avenue (29 October 2009)
I’m walking down the street and everything below my feet is orange or red
The chill’s clawing at my heels and the moon’s shining high above my head
I can hear the trees scream, they’re standing there crying themselves to bed
I can’t stand it when you’re lying there, and nobody cares you’re about to be dead
© Niraj Inamdar, 2009
November 21, 2009
Regardless of whether both teams were 11-0 or 0-11 heading into it, the Ohio State-Michigan game is always the biggest game of the year for Buckeyes and Wolverines fans. This year, Michigan was facing its second straight losing season, while the Buckeyes had already secured at least a share of the Big Ten title and, by virtue of tie-breakers, a visit to the Rose Bowl.
A the end of the day, the Buckeyes won their sixth straight meeting against the Wolverines, thanks to a crappy, five turnover game by Michigan quarterback Tate Forcier and a good running game. The Buckeyes won the Big Ten title outright, and will wait out the coming weeks to see which team from the Pac-10 they’ll play in Pasadena. In any case, I know I’ll be at the game, and this time (unlike in 1997), I’m not leaving early.
A nice article here.
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The big news in international sport is this. Football is something that most Americans have a tough time understanding, I suppose, but it has the power to slow nations and move diplomacy. Ireland tried its hand at that, but instead of proving that wrongs can be righted, FIFA decided that that wouldn’t be the case. Sports ought to be fair, and referees are human, but the question between keeping the game within the realm of purely human actions and interaction and introducing technology as an aid to the regulation of the game is a tricky one. Nonetheless, I think a replay was probably in order, although you could take Keane’s view of things…
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Sarah Palin, please shut the fuck up. If you can, please go back to Alaska. Leaders ought to be exceptional people, and you are mediocre at best, fit only to be the mayor of a meaningless frontier town in what is one of the least relevant states in the Union. It’s no one else’s fault that you make yourself look like an ignoramus, and have no understanding of even the most basic concepts of American government. You are incredibly stupid, but like so many Republicans, you have a flare for demagoguery, and so you will last for a while. But hopefully you’ll fade and, regardless of how hard you try, you will be forced to retreat to the shadows of Alaska whence you came.
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I’ve gotten a couple hundred hits in a day before, but never a couple thousand. I’ll have to keep that in mind the next time I write something about Mr. Z.
November 20, 2009
The strongest mechanism for humor is apparent contradiction, usually the appearance of something unexpected in an otherwise predictable environment. In this way, the logical basis for humor is almost always stereotype, since it lures the audience into a sense of security they are too willing to accept. Ultimately, the stronger the sense of security (often achieved by length and depth of set-up), the funnier the joke.
My own personal favorites, such as Seinfeld, Father Ted, Coupling, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Fawlty Towers, and Monty Python’s Flying Circus were all successful because they managed to introduce bizarre situations against what are the very banal circumstances of everyday life. This is particularly true with the British shows since the apparent class rigidity–particularly a generation or two ago– afforded a way of life that seemed too easily vapid and obstinate, and so the contrast in that case is even stronger.
