The Coffee Chronicles

When I used to live in New York City, I spent my time in a fast-paced mode of acquisitive madness. This was, contrary to fact, not at all unpleasant; rather, our lifestyle in that mode meant more bars, more beers, more shows, more walks, more menus, more parties, and in general more things to do each night than you could shake a wad of cash at. And oh, the pizza...the pizza was simply divine. I mentioned during a break in class last night how I thought Los Angeles was the place for a great burger - better than any I'd had just about anywhere - but that NYC had to be the pizza capital of modern America. In fact, considering my experiences in Paris, London, and parts of Canada, I'd suggest that NYC might turn out to be the world capital for fine pizza. To this end, a student suggested that - like most public opinion surrounding the mystique of a good bagel, also to be found only in New York - the pizza conundrum had something to do with New York City water. Now, while I don't doubt that chemistry has something to do with it - and indeed, the tap water in NYC is most fine - I'm not sure that there's not something else, something mystical, if you prefer, about the average Manhattan pizza place. Don't get me started about Connecticut; that movie might be a cult favorite, but as far as culinary accuracy goes, I think they're out on a limb. I don't know for sure...perhaps these folks can say something about the veracity of the film's claim.

At any rate, I'm not going to regale you with tales of late-night pizza consumption; I will not reveal which pizza places are the tops, in my opinion, on all of the island of Manhattan, nor will I spill the beef on the best burger in LA. Such behavior would run counter to what I believe is a central tenet to existence in the big city: each one of us must, to a certain extent, fend for ourselves. Sure, I'll admit that there's a big difference between someone who grows up in a city and someone who moves there for the first time in adulthood; but I think there some value in the process of discovery that doesn't lend itself to hand-holding. During college, my Thermodynamics professor once very famously told us, "I'm not going to coddle you." Not what we all wanted to hear, as green engineering undergraduates; nevertheless, I think the act of educating ourselves made our experience worthwhile. In similar fashion, I leave the tale of the pizza pie for my readers to discover - if you hang around with me long enough, you might find out for yourselves. To be sure, if you happen to spot me moving swiftly through the crowds of Manhattan's West Village with a hungry, determined look on my face, you would do well to follow.

That said, you can imagine my great chagrin when - during the waning months of my residence in that great eastern city - it started to give up all its secrets. I don't remember when, or how, it began, exactly. Very slowly, publications like New York magazine, Time Out New York, and websites like Daily Candy and the old sidewalk.com began to spill the beans. What was going on? All the great bars, cheap eats, used music stores, even the good barbers were being given away, wholesale. Cover stories hawked the "latest discovery" of the place you simply had to be; and what was worse, each story would ask New Yorkers to send in their very own "secret and/or fave hangout" for inclusion in the next issue. Join the revolution, sell out the city; everyone's doing it, and you're a loser if you don't. Well, guess what happened next. For the price of a subscription, anyone could be on the doorstep of every sure thing in New York City well before the witching hour and beat the regulars to their favorite seats. Before long, everyone was doing this - resulting in what an old friend of mine referred to as "...a total shitshow." Exactly. Folks were queued up five and ten deep at the neighborhood bar; there were poseurs everywhere and dilettantes abounded. You could tell from a distance, too; they were always the ones hailing cabs instead of walking or taking the subway. I'd walk around after hours, watching the city split open like an overripe melon, shaking my head and mumbling, "...opportunists." All these green folks getting their good times handed to them on a velvet-lined platter. Well, no more, bub.

So, although it broke my heart - and very nearly my spirit - I gathered up all my lumber, got my rider by my side, and Horace Greeley'd my way to the left coast.

And now I find, of course - with not a little irony - that it's the same way out here. Los Angeles magazine is the enemy. Oh, we learn a little something from such open-city policies, too, but it doesn't help us find what we really need. By now, it's satisfyingly clear that most of the "secrets" these magazines and websites offer are simply the New New Thing; they wax, they wane, and in general, the city remains as before. But that doesn't last forever: what killed late-night Manhattan for us was the simple fact that these empty promises of a good time brought the well-frocked masses out in force for the first time; everyone was an instant barfly, an expert nightowl. They would scurry like cockroaches - they go for the garbage first; but sooner or later, they find the real food, and you're screwed. And so it would seem in this case, in this city.

And so when I came across this article, which was sent to me by a fellow book-lover, I nearly fainted. "No," I thought, "they can't be doing this to the used bookstores, too?" It was a moment of crisis. But, lest you think that I'm adding to the problem by spreading it around, I offer this passage from said article:


How very true - and in that truth, I realized that this article will probably do more good for these fabulous gems of literary history than harm. After all, this isn't like an article in Time Out New York choking my favorite beer-bar with folks ordering Cosmopolitans; in fact, I'd suggest that such opportunists rarely even read anything except TONY*. My favorite used-book haunt isn't at risk, I figure. Besides, it wasn't even on the list.

You have, no doubt, noticed the sleek new look to tcc. I'd love to stay and chat about it, but I have to be off - I've got class tonight, and far too many papers to grade. I'd like to thank some of the fine web-designers who have "offered up" their raw html - and their layout, besides; some of these much admired can be found in links, at left. Visit them and offer thanks for their contributions.

In my absence, feel free to offer your honest reactions, just as long as they're positive. Toss around the ideas - dish on my color schemes, gutter widths, layout faux pas...but I must away; I've achieved none of the classwork I though I would, for I spent the entire day at work fiddling with my templates.

And no, that wasn't supposed to be a euphemism, even despite the added emphasis.

I'm with Floorpie when I say that this is not the greatest reflection on the integrity of the current American leadership. Amid all the furor from the Iraq-Africa-Uranium scandal, claims from President Bush that the intelligence he received was, in fact, "...darn good" does not inspire great admiration. However, in point of fact, it does give me a strange, mysterious craving for Dukes of Hazzard reruns.

Well, I'm sure that our government will figure out some way to allay all our fears. Such a solution will probably involve distracting us from the issue at hand by raising new concerns over an old issue - kind of like waving one hand in the air and saying, "...lookie here, what's this?" while picking your pocket with the other one. For those of you who don't remember the famous - and very similar - Chewbacca Defense**, allow me to paraphrase:


Well, at least I can sleep at night.

Okay, I know I've been going on about how I'm not really intellectually challenging or purposefully threatening, and how I don't actually try to be politically acerbic. I've pointed out personally to my friends that I don't mean to stir up dissent or foam at the mouth about the news I see flashed at me by the major media outlets. I know I've said all of this.

Well, now I'm taking it all back. In no small part, I should point out, because of this tidbit I saw peeking out at me from the sidelines of an otherwise innocuous news-day. Not only does Pat Robertson oppose the recent Supreme Court decision decriminalizing sodomy, equating the potential legalization of same-sex marriage with "...bigamy, legalized prostitution and even incest," but has also openly asked the Christian god to remove three of the justices who supported the decision. While not really surprised at this response from the far religious right, I contend that not only is such a statement absurd, irresponsible, and even dangerous, but also that it illustrates well the very problem at the heart of this very public debate. But first, some background.

It turns out that certain people in the political arena - most everyone, if you would believe the yellow media - are still talking about the Court's decision. Persons seem to be climbing over one another, beating each other over the head with dogma, vying for the spotlight in their effort to offer a soundbite. This is a fine chance, especially during a campaign year, for pundits and party hacks to get their names in the papers and on the splash pages of the big Internet outlets. As they should, no doubt: this was a decision that, for better or worse, is probably going to help change the way that American society comes to view alternate lifestyles. I should expect that any thinking person can accept this simple fact - this ruling is important, even landmark; but we must realize that the attention given to this case is such for one reason and one reason only:


Now, does that seem right to you? Okay, let's not go that way just yet...instead, allow me to approach this problem a bit more obliquely. Considering the above thesis, it should be unsurprising that everyone is so up in arms about the Court's decision. After all, what I've created here is nothing more than a logical truism; that is, if we had had a truly open society all along, this issue would not exist, because sodomy - and other "acts" like it - would never have been considered criminal in the first place. But, let's remain in the real world for a moment, and simply ask this question: what is it about society that created such a culture of fear in the first place?

I'll leave you to consider this, for the moment. I look forward to being burned in effigy.


[Edit: 7/16/03 8:16am] Getting back to the point here, I'd like to follow this argument in the direction it already seems to be headed. As a friend graciously pointed out, it's really the sense of irony in this case that tugs at my trigger. Don't see it? Well, allow me to guide the way.

In his rush to make a very public statement of his displeasure with the Supreme Court's decision on this matter, Robertson managed to blunder his way into a rather historical conundrum. According to the Associated Press, he stated, "We ask for miracles in regard to the Supreme Court..." and suggested, speaking of three of the justices that supported the ruling, "Would it not be possible for God to put it in the minds of these three judges that the time has come to retire?" What stands out, at least to this writer, is that Robertson seems strikingly concerned with temporal - that is, worldly - issues in this case. Perhaps the more broadly read among my audience will notice a similarity between Robertson's behavior and that of the ancient Pharisees, a bunch of pious hypocrites that spent most of the New Testament not practicing what they preached. In most spectacular fashion, Robertson has made the same kind of mistake they were usually guilty of; that is, he doesn't "...render unto Caesar what is Caesar's, and render unto God what is God's," to paraphrase Jesus of Nazareth. And I don't think it matters if you believe this sort of thing or not - for sure, I wouldn't want to offend anyone's delicate sensibilites - but what has happened here is a con of the greatest proportion, as this puffed-up "holy" man tries to convince his followers of what their god wants them to do. Not only that, but it would seem that he's even more audacious than that: in his statements, he makes the impossible claim that he can have his god do things for him. Mr. Robertson, I believe your god's Kingdom was never supposed to be a worldly one; or, haven't you read Scripture lately?

Besides, should god exist, I would think - as I've written before - that it would not spend time worrying about who we should choose to love, only that we love. And no, Mr. Robertson, we're not saying it's okay to "love" animals, or idols, or our siblings, for goodness sake - at least, not in the way you're concerned about. This Court decision is not a license for wanton orgiastic behavior, nor is it the coming of the new Bablyon - no matter what I might cheer for in the confines of this lttle world I write from. In fact, if anything I've written here should sink in, it's that I think it's a sad, sad shame that any court had to decide on this issue in the first place. Our only concern should be respect and dignity for our fellow humans, despite their choices - in this world of chaos, it's all we have. Let each live peacefully as they will, so that we may enrich our experience together - let's not squabble over who we can and cannot love. Don't you think we have more important things to worry about?

This blog is boring, and apparently there's nothing I can do about it.

At least it's not threatening or intellectiually challenging. Oh, well. Definitely a Monday, I suppose. Where are the eager masses? Where is the witty commentary? Wherefore art thou, relevance?