Going home for a visit. Something about that sounds backwards. Home shouldn't be a place you visit. Everywhere else should be the place you visit and home should be home. I'll post some pictures of food and fun when I return!

Gonna Get My Chili On, Homie

No, I'm not making chili. When I was at work this week, one of the touchup artists (a guy who looks like he could either be an ultimate fighting champion or at least be the #1 fan of the sport) was heating up canned chili in the kitchen and said those words to me completely seriously. I retreated to my cube and proceeded to laugh for 4 days.

I've been keeping busy and having a terrific time. I suspect that I even had a celebutante sighting the other day. It *might* have been Paris. I noticed someone in their car sticking out among the other, more ordinary looking drivers in Hollywood. I wasn't sure who it might be but the next day on tmz.com they had a photo of Hilton driving and it looked exactly like the person I spotted. But everyone here wears sunglasses at all times in order to confuse you about whether they're famous or not. Is it possible that the overuse of sunglasses is what caused L.A.'s culture of detachment? Isn't it pretty important to see someone's eyes when you are talking to them, or even walking by? What are they looking at? I must know!

How are things with you, blog reader?

I took my time making this salad. Cooking is like kissing, I think. It's best when you're not in a rush.

Lazy Sunday

So Cinco de Mayo didn't end up being the wild party I was hoping for, but nevertheless I was determined to make my Sunday count. At around noon, after eating part of a banana and packing up my essential supplies (Kafka on the Shore, sunscreen, hat), I got in the car and started driving in the general direction of the ocean.

As usual, it was a beautiful day. I was actually thinking to myself "L.A., I really don't appreciate you enough". I ended up at Point Dume state beach, which is just east of Zuma and is one of the few public beaches I hadn't visited yet. It is smaller than Zuma, and felt like it had more older couples. But that might have just been my imagination since this was my first solo beach outing and my eyes were more... busy.

The warm breeze sounded like a flickering flame as I savored the tranquility of it all. I got into my book for a while and then set it down in the interest of just lying there and spacing out. At around this time I did some deep breathing and was totally in nirvana. This is why I'm not crazy about massages. I can pretty easily reach that level of relaxation if I just clear my mind and focus on breathing. I guess it's a holdover from yoga classes. But seriously, take 10 minutes to lie on your bed and do 20 deep in/exhales very very slowly.

I just had to dip my feet in the water. It was really, really cold. That's the thing about the ocean here, it never quite gets warm enough but it sure looks inviting most of the time.

At around 4 I got into the car and started heading for home. I was cruising down the PCH at a liesurely pace and just appreciating the ocean and mountains in my rear view mirror. A motorcycle club/gang of about 100 caught up and were passing me. I remember how rare it was in Toronto to see even one motorcycle, and here there are numerous motorcycle subcultures that you can spot. This "gang" was comprised of scary looking black guys. Many of them fat and some of them with waifishly thin ladies strapped to their backs like knapsacks.

When I got home I fixed an acceptable pizza out of frozen crust, crappy Prego sauce, and some mozzarella. I have this huge brick of moz' which came from Costco and I am trying to work through it at a medium pace. I also had a glass of red wine with the 'za, which was nice but added to the overwhelming sleepiness that hit me at 7:00pm. I was determined not to give in and stayed awake until 10 watching Rocky Balboa.

Stallone is a moron, but if I just look at the core idea of the story, I can relate to it. I think I'll always feel like an old man because of how much I look back and try to process what I've done with my life thus far.

There is a bitterness to adulthood that I can't quite express. Something that lurks in all of us as we proceed through the same hoops. Part of it is captured in the movie The Last Kiss (old or new version). Does anyone not feel a sense of resignation about the whole game of life? Make money, pair up, reproduce, have a few laughs, die. Sometimes it seems depressing, but on Sunday I felt like I was winning.

It Ain't Kosher But...

Goddamn is it tasty! Tonight's salad pulled together various related flavors such as a peppercorn asiago dressing, a peppery cheese of some sort, and some spicy chicken andouille sausage. It was also topped off with some chopped onion and garlic almonds.

Sorry I didn't make enough to share! Get your own salad.