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| While browsing books today, I came across the book Wall and Piece, detailing the works of Banksy. Amongst the works of art were several quotes, one of which I immensely enjoyed:
Art is not like other culture because its success is
not made by its audience. The public fill concert halls and cinemas
every day, we read novels by the millions and buy records by the
billions. We the people, affect the making and the quality of most of
our culture, but not our art. The Art we look at is made by only a select few. A
small group create, promote, purchase, exhibit and decide the success of
Art. Only a few hundred people in the world have any real say. When you
go to an Art gallery you are simply a tourist looking at the trophy
cabinet of a few millionaires.
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| When I was walking home from the metro today, I noticed something amusing.
At one street corner, some drunken idiot had apparently decided that he didn't like the looks of a particular street sign. So he rammed it. Apparently he was also in a Hummer, since he also knocked over an adjacent parking meter and then another street sign (which, ironically, indicated no parking). Then, to top it off, he presumably decided that as a souvenir, he would keep the first street sign. And then drove away.
So I'm walking along the sidewalk, and I notice that a parking meter seems to be lying on the ground. Upon closer inspection, the hollow metal pole (about 4 inches in diameter, 1/4 an inch thick) had been completely broken off. I then noticed two other stumps on either side of the parking meter, from two broken signs (also with metal posts,) and that one of the broken-off signs was gone.
I briefly considered taking either the remaining sign or the parking meter. Although it would be awesome to be able to affix a parking meter to my driveway, I figured that I should not tempt the wrath of the NYC police. Given the frequency that I see them patrolling, I did not want to be seen hauling a broken parking meter.
Plus, those things are, apparently, heavy
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| This Monday and Tuesday before the 4th of July, I went back down to Virginia, to mow the lawn, check the mail, and take care of some other business. And to see James and Gareth, but Gareth was unfortunately busy and not available.
It seems that visits by James are cursed though - every time that he comes over and we go biking, something bad has always happened. A couple times, while we were biking along the local trail, it starts thunder storming. Once, James lost his wallet. This time, he accidentally drops his cell phone and it gets run over. Broken. Oh well. Still, not as bad as that time in Singapore, when it was a roommate's birthday party - somebody jumped into the pool fully clothed with his new top of the line cell phone in his pocket. Bzzzp. ZAP.
On an unrelated side note, my brother almost succeeded in blowing me up. When he left for Taiwan, he disconnected the propane tank from the stove. Apparently not properly, because all the gas leaked out and escaped. When I got home, I thought something smelled funny, so I opened all the windows. I only noticed that all the propane had escaped several hours later, when I tried to light the fire and found it not working. If I hadn't opened the windows.... massive fireball?
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| A couple days ago, I gave a significant amount of money to a random guy begging for money. Some black guy with one leg in a wheelchair. I'm still not sure how I feel about it.
On one hand, I don't think it was a wrong thing to do. Even if I'm a poor college student, no matter what, I'm still better off than he is. He said that he only needed money til he could get some public housing or something in a couple of days.
Yet, I'm also annoyed with myself for giving him the amount I did. The guy was definitely a smooth talker, much more so than I could possibly be. So there's a feeling of being conned. After all, how would I know that he really needed the money ? For all I know, he could just be a kleptomaniac, or that ten minutes later he would be laughing at the ease with which he duped me.
And even more, I'm annoyed at myself for feeling that way. I shouldn't be so suspicious of that guy, so disbelieving. I thought I was better than that. I really want to believe that I was able to help somebody. I wonder if I did.
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| Buckwheat noodles.
Apparently it's incredibly hard to make, because as a mix of buckwheat and flour, it's incredibly hard to make into noodles. When you're rolling the dough, one wrong move and it's ruined.
So I didn't try to roll the buckwheat noodles myself. That is in the not-so-foreseeable future.
But other than the noodles, the rest is actually pretty easy to make. Then noodles are boiled in lots of water (to remove the extra flour), then immediately plunged in ice water. Take that, and add it to add-ons like sliced scrambled eggs, sliced cucumber, diced tomatoes, diced scallions, roasted seaweed (which I haven't figured out yet), grated radish, and sesame seeds. At fancy restaurants, they have this way of arranging the noodles to look all nice and pretty. That's on my to-do-later list.
The dipping sauce consists of mirin, soy sauce, water, and dashi.
The side dishes are dip-it-yourself types for my brother and I. For the middle one, I experimented by pre-mixing a lighter sauce with the noodles.
It was tottemo oishii
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