Dateline: Casa Rohita, 4:19 AM --
Let's see... I just got back from nine hours with a <-->,
<-->, <--> Indian woman filled with music, fine food,
promenading, a movie, Mt Wilson by moonlight, and Hollywood on
Valentine's Day.
Which was most emphatically and mutually NOT a date.
.
.
.
.
In an continuing bid to disprove Adam's reckless and baseless
allegations that I have a life, herewith a brief summary, attempting
to keep the innocent as innocent as possible:
3PM: Phone time. Seemingly out of the blue, an offhanded invitation to
a dance club party is accepted on the phone. This is perhaps the third
phone call I have received at my house not from Adam or my parents
this year. And that includes two telemarketers. Continue to build on
hypothesized multilateral Hollywood outing by calling just about every
other single person I know in Orange County who wasn't previously
engaged (except Roy, sorry...). Decide to finish WWW7 papers for final
submission.
4PM: Gym time. 1Mcal on the elliptic trainer in :53. Actually useful
given that I hadn't eaten since 3AM this morning, in the aftermath of
hanging out with Breanna, Brianna, Clover, Blevin, and JimW all night
Friday. As a result, I broke short -- I'm an 8-bit man now, FF (255) lbs!
5PM: Belting. Unfortunately, that means that I can't hold up my pants
at *all* anymore, so the outfit I changed into at the gym will not
work without a trip back home for a belt and ill-advised run in with
excess cyanoacrylate labeled 'hair gel' :-) Went over to her place,
tea with the roomies, and off. [I wearing my luck Joe Barello
step-nextstep twostep nugi shirt, remember JimW (ENP? WM?)]
6PM: Wandering. Seeing as I've only been back in Orange County for
half a year now, I have no excuse for screwing up the routing to
Little India (Pioneer Blvd at the 91, for your reference). Luckily,
gobs of excess small talk neatly paper over the fact we're going
nowhere fast in a thunderstorm.
7PM: Music. Finally, we find the physical-world home of
zibamusic.com. I love this place, my first chance to actually talk
through the contemporary Indian-influenced techno, rap, and remix
scene. Chatted with their web aficionado, geeking out over music. Has
a cousin who does Madonna's mehndi tattoo work, who slipped them a
copy of a sanskrit shokla from the Bhagvad Gita she recorded. Said to
watch for it in realaudio on the site next week. Gotta love a place
with $11 CDs, $5 DJ remixes, and $2 import tapes. Walked out with the
Desi Sound of New York, vol 4 and 5, Bally Sagoo, Rising from the East
and Bollywood Flashback, Arabian Nights IV, remix of Amitabh Bachchan
film songs (imagine any top five hollwood actors of the 70s-80s and
roll them into one and give him a congressional seat), Star Rise
(Nusrat remixed), 360 degree bhangra (dj harry), Sameer Chishty's Aag
(means 'fire', original rap), Bally Jagpal, Live and Direct, and just
for some old-school bass beats, The Art of the Benares Baj, tabla drum
playing from my parent's hometown tradition dating back 200 years.
All for $73.
8 PM: Dinner. Succulent leg of goat that must have been simmering all day,
$6. OK, I'm a cheap date. But it was a quality operation, I tell
you. Fresh-baked vegetable breads and a staggering selection of kulfi,
indian ice-cream (well, staggering to me being >2, the only flavors
I've ever had being mango and saffron-pistachio). Ambala Dhaba,
recommended. Both on Pioneer and 186th
9 PM: Pasadena. Found out the Palace gig was, as suspected, just a
normal club mix, nonethnic, so toured Old Pasadena instead. Maveled at
staggeringly overpriced Indian imports at Urban Outfitters and
Restoration Hardware
10 PM: Zero Effect. I have only one thing to add to Adam's
well-deserved praise for this film:
I AM DARRYL ZERO
Anyone who wants to understand the TRAVELMAN/BitBoy symbiote should
definitely check this movie out. And no offense, Michelle, but if it
involved Jess, I'd dump me out of the picture like two-dollar paint
thinner in ToonTown.
Seriously, it was a well-written film acted to a T by Bill Pullman. I
was a one-man geek cheering section for the flick -- she seemed to
like it to. Of course, she *has* been skydiving, but I have nothing to
back up my claims to jet pilot (though I *can* do my own taxes).
Seems like it's time to do a FoRK Recommended Viewing List...
Midnight: Crystal Skies. The upside to all this precipation is that it
washes out the skies like a used dishrag. The view from the San
Gabriel mountains is spectacular on a night like tonight. The waning
full moon, the traffic jams in the sky above LAX, the far twinkle of
Santa Monica, LBC, and Palos Verdes right at the edge of
perception. First rest stop, Angeles Crest Highway (Rt 2), elevation
3000+ ft, just 10 minutes off the 210 fwy. Listened to aforementioned
tabla beats.
1 AM: Back on the trail to Hollywood. Need my NYT fix, and the only
place to go on Saturday is the Hollywood International Press and
Magazine Center, Hollywood Blvd and Cahuenga. They get the Sunday
Times at 5PM Saturday, though they tack on a quarter. Passed by what
has emerged as Little Bangkok on Hollywood above the 101. (As opposed
to the hooker district below, a different Bangkok altogether).
3 AM: Back at UCI. Time for breakfast at Norm's with the Times. Alone
again.
jes' dyin for sympathy,
RoRo
PS. Go ahead, cry for me in sympathy. Doesn't like sweets. Truffles
went unloved this V-Day, shrinking in the back seat. Sniff.
:-)
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