Confronting the future through windows of the past

Old friends
console us
always holding for us
a better picture of who we are
like a window into our hearts
in case we forget

Friends come home again
reminding us
with their memories
of what we meant to them
like a window into your home
when you return to it from a long time away

New friends float into our lives
we discover them
only to realize
we already know them
for they bump into who
and what we already are


Sitting here at the cafe
remembering all my friends
who fill my heart
wondering how I move on from here
confronting the future
through windows of the past

Special thanks to my friend Kunal - for the beautiful photo of the same name - his came first and was the inspiration behind this piece!

For more great photos of India and beyond check out Kunal's Flickr pages: http://www.flickr.com/photos/anarchytecture/

What do project managers do in their spare time, you ask? The Great San Francisco Pillow Fight, 2008 that's what!

I've fielded this question a bunch of times in the past week, not quite knowing how to answer - but tonight there was a truly interesting answer- and my colleague Kerrin has the video footage to prove it (please destroy the tapes, please?):

The Great San Francisco Pillow Fight 2008

http://laughingsquid.com/

I am having trouble describing this spectacularly surreal event - in the dusk near the embarcadero in San Francisco where, just before the stroke of 6 on this valentine's day - the pillows flew. Crashing through the crowd - there are singularly great opponents that one ends up dueling with almost like its a swordfight rather than the blatant childlike bedroom pillow throwing fun that this is. My stress dissipates as I imagine the most frustrating people at work, and pummel them with my pillow. Pillows begin to be ripped open and the air fills with feathers - swirling like new snow.

"Hey, that's not a pillow, that's your laundry man!" I hear someone shout as I get clocked in the head.

I feel tired, yet exhilarated, alive...I think this was even better than the mosh pit when Pearl Jam came home to Seattle in 92 - which is saying a lot.

I am so happy and lucky that I live a train ride away from wacky, interesting, fun, magical things that happen somewhere every day in this city.

ukulele magic

I was at amnesia tonight thinking that every once in a while magic happens, but in fact, magic happens all the time, we just don't always seem to notice it. I was having another one of those quintessential SF moments when I am left standing there thinking "hmm, I've never seen anything like this!"

tonight it was three blonde ladies, with glittery makeup, in hot pants and fishnet stockings strumming away like rockstars on their ukuleles to 80's tunes - the cure and cyndi lauper mashed together. It reminded me of being in love, and I thought of you, wishing for a minute that you could be there with me, holding hands, dancing next to me, enjoying the music.

...and I wondered, how do i close the distance between your heart and mine?

French Toast SMACKDOWN - 2008 Otherwise known as the Great American French Toast Off (GAFTO) 2008

So it is hard to describe exactly how we got here, but through the imagination and ingenuity of some of my dearest friends, not to mention their love of french toast, competitive spirit and fanastic humor, my stomach is now very full and I have today finished one of the best adventures I've had in a while.

What is a french toast smack down you ask?? Originally named GAFTO (not to be confused with NAFTA, and yes you can still hear the "giant sucking sound" if you listen carefully), it stands for the Great American French Toast Off.

Originally conceived by my friends Jen and Deep, who have very different view of what makes a perfect piece of french toast, they thought it would be fun for a bunch of us to get together, go to brunch at their favorite french toast places and decide which was truly better.

It started off innocently enough, with a group of us nodding at brunch before the holidays, thinking that would be interesting and fun to have an excuse to try some new places. Little did any of us know what a delightful adventure it would turn into when Jen emailed us this week to invite us all to brunch on Saturday and Sunday...well at least until the trash talk started.

So as the fateful weekend approached our email boxes filled with little poems about how great their french toast was:
My toast? It's the most!
Your toast? It shouldn't boast!

Toast Smackdown!

...and then came the contest itself!

First up - Fattoush - a lovely mediterranean restaurant, that I am sure must have decent falafel, but is apparenlty known for its brunch. Nestled in Noe Valley near the corner of Church and 25th, it serves Deep's favorite cornflake french toast, the menu even boasting "the one and only."
http://www.fattoush.com/Home_Page.php

It was quite tasty and crunchy - unlike any french toast I'd ever had, and after 7 of us had scarfed down every bite of french toast that would fit inside us, I was thinking to myself how can Jen be so calm. Was it food coma? How could any french toast be better than that? What did she know that we did not know?

Well, she knew about La Note, which we all found out about on Sunday.
http://www.lanoterestaurant.com/

So with passports and visas in hand we easily gained entry into the tiny east bay enclave known as the People's Republic of Berkeley (PROB). We were greeted by a native on the train with political flyers in hand, but otherwise went unnoticed even though none of us was wearing the international shoes of PROB - the birkenstock.

After a long wait for our table, which included a coffee run to peet's, an hors d'ouevre pumpkin muffin, a Scharffen Berger chocolate bar and one hail storm, with musical accompaniment, we were finally seated.

Deep looked concerned - he'd seen plates of the tasty french toast go by - and there was doubt in our hero's eyes. I myself, knew he was in trouble as soon as I read the menu - because not only did La Note have 2 types of french toast, but one of them was brioche french toast. I tried to resist getting too cocky on Jen's behalf, but I couldn't resist. My "Deep, you're going down!" was met with Deep's squinty-faced grimace. (sorry man - but you just can't take corn flakes up against brioche! can you?)

Well, there we were, on Super Bowl Sunday, taking part in a much different competition at La Note as they ran out of cinnamon brioche french toast, one plate short at our table. No worries, we all donated one of our slices, and everyone still got MORE than enough of the delightful, sticky, soft, warm, yummy goodness, with butter and lavender honey.

While we all agreed that it was hard to compare the two - they were SO different - now I understand exactly why Jen went toe-to-toe with Deep on this one - can you say:
SMACKDOWN!

I am still chuckling at our lovely mix of high brow and WWF, and give more than an honorable mention to the cornflake french toast at Fattoush - but the clear winner of our contest is the cinnamon brioche french toast at La Note. So dig out your passports, don't forget to get a visa, strap on your birks, splash on some patchoulli and jump the bart train for some rockin' good french toast.

Stay tuned for our next gastronomic adventure: the bao down!

p.s. check out the official t-shirt of GAFTO:

what's that blue thing doing here

http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?playlistId=79029259&s=143441&i=79029221

the sky was this fantastic irridescent sapphire tonight
I was reminded of evenings spent in Seattle
laying in the grass after the sun had set over the olympics
watching that blue thing happen

lovers leaving the park
the attraction they came for finished
in the shadow of the black hole sun
ours was just beginning

the edge of the mountains afire
with the last bits of orange from the setting sun
the sky would deepen and darken
developing into richer and richer blue
moving through sapphire to indigo
as the sparkle of planets then stars
would dot the sky

we'd pick them out one by one
as they appeared
huddling in the chill night air
sometimes calling them by name
cassiopea or the twins
orion with rigel and beteljeuse
the horns of taurus and aldarbaran
other times making up our own names
laughing at our silly interpretation
of pots and pans in the sky

walking in the mission tonight
sutro tower was lit by a thin band
pale orange, the vestige of sunset
the rest of the sky doing the blue thing
cerulean to azur to teal
on through royal to cobalt
skipping navy going straight to
ultramarine, deep dark like the ocean
on a clear blue day

i can't tell if the sky is getting bluer
developing like a photo
in the finishing tray in the dark room
or am i just more and more moved
as i experience it
a curtain of color, lit from behind
almost electric

the thinnest crescent from the new moon
cuts like a beacon in the blue
i stop in my tracks
in awe at this stretch of sky
unmoving on the sidewalk
as if swimming in the blueness above

The New Rules by Dave Eggers (reposted here for your information)

THE NEW RULES

I don't know why it came down to me to tell you about this, but anyway, here goes: if you don't buy at least ten books a year, you'll be struck by lightning, or maybe a bus. It's the new rule. Yeah. You'll probably be sent a more official notice in the mail pretty soon, but for now, you're hearing it from me. Ten books a year, or the bus or lightning, each of them very painful and likely deadly. Is the rule a bit harsh? Well, maybe. Some people might think so, but then again, those people won't be with us very long, because anyone who complains about the rule will be disemboweled by bears. Again, not my idea--I am just the messenger here!--but that's the way it is. I don't know why you're worried, though. just buy the ten books a year, and don't whine about it, and you won't be struck by anything or have your insides ripped out by a grizzly. Doesn't seem so complicated, really. Also, make sure you buy the right kinds of books, or else someone in a cardigan will push you off a building. Again, nothing to worry about: just buy the best kinds of books, not the bad ones, or else you'll be looking over your shoulder pretty much forever. And you can't read that way, anyway, so it all works out.

-DE

midnight poets

"give us a poem!" they shouted from their bench in front of Dosa
turning to look, i recognize the cute guy from a cafe i used to frequest
he'd long since moved on to pursue his "art"
I say "hey" and as he says "hey" back they shout again
"Give us a Poem!!"

I stop, my mind reeling
I couldn't even consider doing this a few months ago
but for some reason i've been devouring poetry lately
so my mind searches
for any bit that stuck
a line or stanza big enough to grasp onto
can't think as the booming voices assault me again
Give. Us. A. Poem!

so i default to the old and known
to recite a bastardized version of Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese"
the only poem commited mostly to memory
there is scattered applause
as they hand me a beer and make space for me to sit down
as i slide onto the bench and crack open the beer they boom
"Give us a song!"

I look up to see who their next victim is
and realize they're looking at me
i laugh, take a long swallow of beer
and smiling back, say
"i know its halloween and all,
but it might be too much of a fright,
'cuz you've never heard me sing"

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

- Mary Oliver
from Dream Work

***** ***** ***** ***** *****
If you like this poem, the book Dream Work is filled with other great poems Mary has written. This poem also reminds me of a short story by Linda Hogan, called Walking that was publisehed in Parabola magazine and is part of a collection "Sisters of the Earth" edited by Lorraine Anderson.