Walking is a way of life in this town - I’ve said it before. Walking epitomizes New Yorkers love affair with themselves (ouch, sorry even that sounds harsh for me! I must have taken a double dose of bitch pill today, sorry about that chaps).

Defending your space on the streets is a constant game to play. So I thought I would share some of the learned techniques for situations when people invade your space, walk into you, or are general pains in the ass in your vicinity.

(1) Cough uncontrollably, or start a sneezing fit (though everyone will say God Bless You - which bothers me, so I avoid that one). Special effect on this one is to begin choking, a New Yorker would cross the other side of the street rather than come near while you are carking it.

(2) Nervous twitches / erratic spasms, especially in confined spaces such as subways - seats clear immediately.

(3) An advanced user technique is talking or arguing with yourself. This takes a little more practice to be convincing. Woman in subway wearing Chanel and laughing and chatting to herself just didn’t cut it - business woman by day, lunatic in transit.

(4) Suddenly stopping while walking down the street. This does little to address people cutting you off on the street, but it is morbidly satisfying to have people slam uncontrollably into you from behind. A more holistic form of protest.

(5) The total avoidance technique. Stay in, order everything in - food, grocery, pharmacy, magazines. Lean out the window if you want to watch eye candy.

(6) Only in America - strap on a proximity flag belt. The belt has protruding flags attached to keep people away - I actually saw this. The lunatic concept works well here.

Well those are my top six, if you have any great ideas let me know - the more the merrier

Categories: Live From The Field
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Food is beginning to haunt me at the moment (no that was not intended to be a Halloween pun, honestly). Three things to say:

(1) The art of food is a sacred thing, if only we would realise it

(2) Exceptional food is so under-recognised, I do worry that we are in danger of loosing it

(3) Indifference to food really bothers me

I wont hide the fact that I always wanted to be a chef - never did - but it still drives me. Too often there are times where the mere thought of special food melts me inside, connects me to a greater reality, makes me realise what beauty can really mean. I have days where it upsets me so much when I cannot be part of that.

Coming to New York held so much potential to be part of some of the great food of the world. The attitude toward food here has haunted me. It is either this obsessive blind panic in chasing the latest and greatest newspaper rating, or it is the face of pure indifference. These really bother me and I believe make us poorer people for the experience.

In chasing rated restaurants we show our insecurity in a city where social acceptance is the only inner faith. The chef may be the best in the world, but the day the papers stop talking about you is the day you begin the countdown to closure. And if there are exceptions to that rule, then they are very lucky chefs. It upset me reading Franks blog today on the rise and fall of Bernard Loiseau.

Then the indifference. I know why it happens, but it still makes me sick. In this city it happens because we are surrounded by shameful foods for everyday life. This is truly a fast-food nation. We want it fast and we will put up with substandard ingredients, preparations and service attitudes. Those days make me feel like I am in a prison, where my prison-slop food falls into an aluminium tray and I am treated like dirt throughout the process.

So I want to say to you, when you touch the perfection of people in love with food, treasure them, thank them for being there for us, and just savor the moment that will drive you on through the week(s) of insignificant food. Today I was lucky and thankful, for my simple plait of bread with unsalted butter and a little sea salt on the side, a rillet of three salmons (salmon potted with creme fraiche, lemon, shallots and sealed with clarified butter), a silver knife and a fresh glass of water. At least my profane week will have a special memory.

Categories: New York
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When you put yourself through the trials and tribulations of going to work each day, its great to be able to have a giggle when you get home. Thanks to my new found videoblog (one or two gay connotations) …. oMoToW

Categories: Entertaining
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Certain slippery things are bad – character, substandard lubricant and subway floors. The latter bit my ass last night, it had a film of water on it that resulted in an immediate collision ass-to-ground. I am nursing a sore back in a new found café (Doma), lemon cake and coffee are wonderful substitutes to ibuprofen.

I took my maiden voyage into Brooklyn last night – I was officially in pursuit of the 2nd ugliest orange building in the borough per the directions. I was kindly invited to view a film still being edited. The orange building was quite pretty – though I don’t suppose I have the luxury of knowing the 1st ugliest building in Brooklyn. It was also raining cats and dogs.

My inviter was likely unaware of my obsession for things in progress. I always feel excited and privileged to take part in art, relationships or stories in progress. I was handed pen and paper (along with gorgeous home-cooked Vietnamese meal – dang, thanks guys that was awesome! And Trey for making it all look tidy after!).

It (what do you call in progress, it?, there is more life than that, hmmm) opens with rather raw documentary introduction to a US Vietnamese family. I liked its unpolished nature in scene 1, that’s what meeting new people is like, uncertain, mixed messages, like-dislike. Then right into the Vietnam War, how a family was split, learned to survive, harbored resentments and pain. It was raw.

Then it began to move from a documentary to something you could not look away from. Something you belonged to. Relationships in progress, fighting to find meaning and healing, finding a new voice and language to give light to the past. Some of the secrets that emerged were heart-breaking, the desolate loss that lived in some of the hearts. It however was not fatalistic, it was a journey in itself, that was awesome. I left with so many open questions, which I needed to, that was right. It took me further in understanding the meta-narratives I hold dear to: exclusion and embrace, silence and emerging language, shame and healing.

I felt like a peeping tom, sneaking into someone journal, but I also felt part of the bigger story of life, its ever emerging nature, and the futility sometimes in trying to find too much meaning in ideas rather than embracing richness of experience for its own sake.

I don’t think I was overly helpful in giving feedback last night. My only real feedback on reflection sits around identity. Often this form of documentary finds explains identity, the place we stand and are know by, in the land – too often spiritualizing the land to an extent beyond its nature. This documentary however hasn’t given into that so easily. I see the importance of the land, but there is a bigger narrative of identity – its language and relationship. If anything I would like to see that emerge a little more – not a polarized position, but one that holds the real tension of identity between the land and relationships. The latter is enduring.

It was awesome, so hope to get to see the final cut and how it emerges. Thanks for inviting me Doan.

Categories: Food, New York, Reflection, Subway, Travel
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W hat the hell, its getting cold in New York, which means I now feel more than justified in sneaking down to Soupy Place for lunch. To get to Soupy Place you have to leave the security turnstiles behind at work - yes you get to escape the four walls of the White Ivory Tower in pursuit of warm and tastie little snacks for lunch.

Only problem is that Soupy Place is not exactly the best kept secret in the city. You have to push your way through scores of people flooding the place. Its loud, its pushie, but man alive the soup is tastie as all hell. And if you really feel like being a pain in the backside during the lunch rush you ask for little tasting cups to help you decide what you feel like indulging in.

I am a fan of the clam chowder (I don’t even want to guess how fattening the damn stuff is), or the lobster bisque, but the ham and pea kept me entertained today - well that and the wall of boxed salad lectuce crashing to the floor in the middle of the rush hour - yeah exactly, bloody salads, who said they were good for you.

The entertainment continued when pushie chick decided it was an outrage that she had to then wait in yet another line to pay for her Soup, having already waited in the Soup line. Oh the drama “I am a busy person”, yeah whatever sweetheart aren’t we all, “How can they expect us to wait like this”, goddam lady go down to McDonalds and get out of my face this is my lunchbreak, “Im not coming back here”, if only I believed you - you are here every day. Bloody New Yorkers, sheesh.

I skuttled back to my desk and ate my soup from Soupy Place, ok it has a real name, Devon & Blakely, but that sounds like a pub not somewhere you sneak to for soup in the middle of the day.

Hmmmm I would like to find the Soup Nazi if he really exists?!

Categories: Food, New York
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