Drift Reality

Pacific Beach ruined a perfectly good Saturday for me and it was mostly due to the quintissential PB hangout - Moondoggies.

It started with a quick stroll over to the Chinese festival downtown, where I ate chicken wings (I didn’t know this was Chinese food) and chatted with friends. The afternoon soon lead us to Katie’s balcony, where we enjoyed several glasses of wine and came to the conclusion that we would continue the festivities at a Korean restaurant in Claremont. We ate at the Arirang House and everything was perfect until we decided to head to Moondoggies.

Moondoggies is the archetypical Pacific Beach venue. In other words, if you are looking for a conversation about politics, philosophy, music, society, culture, or anything beyond surfing, drinking, who is hot, and how you’re going to get high later on, then you should probably go elsewhere. Moondoggies is populated by meatheads who are wearing sandals and somewhat whorish-looking girls who all have tattoos in the center of their lower back. Those damn tattoos are so prevalent that it almost seems like a rite of passage for moving into Pacific Beach. No one ever told these girls that sexy and slutty are not the same word, then again, they are probably so zooted from a combination of beach sun and weed that even if someone told them they wouldn’t understand.

It’s not that I’ve got a problem with the nightlife in Pacific Beach, it’s just that I think it is positively worthless. We arrived at about 8:30 (hey, we got an early start to the day) and it wasn’t until the bouncer asked me for my ID that I remembered I had taKarl it out of my wallet earlier that same day.

“Uh. . .I don’t have my ID with me, can I just go in and not drink?”

“No,” he said while shaking his empty head vigorously. “You can’t.”

Smiling in amusement at how little I actually cared that the bouncer was denying me, I said, “Okay fine.” Then, turning to my friends who had already ordered drinks, I said, “This guy won’t let me in so I’m just going to hang out while you guys finish your drinks.”

Walking outside, I scanned up and down the street, secretly thankful that I had left my ID at home, when all of a sudden I heard, “That guy just farted!”

I looked at a group of two couples who had just passed me and realized that they were all giggling because one fellow: a short bald guy with glasses, had just cracked a joke in my direction with the apparent punch line being: “That guy just farted.”

Partially annoyed that someone in PB was messing with me and partially annoyed that someone would make a joke with such a lame punch line, I yelled, “Hey! What did you say?”

The bald fellow turned immediately and ran in my direction and got in my face, shouting, “What did you say?” For a moment I thought that he was going to try and kiss me, so I shoved him back and said, “Who the (expletive) do you think you are! You don’t know me!”

He responded with, “I’m just making a joke to my girl. You don’t have to get so pissed off!”

“How would you like it if I said some random (expletive) about you for no reason!”

It was at this point when the bouncer came out and said, “Why don’t you go this way and you go that a way!”

To which I responded, “We’re just talking!”

Apparently, my comment was ignored by everyone involved as the group scattered like dust and I was left wondering what had just happened.

Last night, James and Sooyun came over as we had planned to head over to Sushi Itto on University for dinner. When we arrived, we realized that the half-price special only ran from 7:00 until 9:00, so we decided to head elsewhere. Sooyun said he knew about some Thai restaurant down the road, and James seemed excited by this, so I went along as we headed to Bai Yook Thai Cuisine.

We arrived and ordered Spring Rolls, which were extremely tasty. Sooyun ordered noodles with shrimp, I had chicKarl curry, and James had some sort of pork dish with noodles. We also split an order of the spicy fried rice.

Nearly the whole time that we were eating, I found myself longing for Bronx Pizza and thinking that not only could I have enjoyed my food a lot more, but I could have also saved a lot of money. The food was not good. I don’t usually say that because I’m a pig and I will put about just anything in my mouth. When I was younger, I even put goat feces in my mouth and my parents have the pictures to prove it. Why my parents decided to take pictures of me eating goat feces instead of trying to remove the goat feces from my hand is another story.

Anyway, the food was gross and I felt ill for a few hours afterwards. My curry tasted like someone had poured milk, sugar, cayenne pepper, and Drano into a small bowl and mixed it up. The noodles and shrimp has something in it that tasted like dirt, and I kept wishing that the noodles and pork would magically transform into spaghetti and meatballs.

The only other time I had an eating experience this bad (other than the goat incident), was at an Ethiopian cuisine in DC. The waitress had a hair-lip, the owner/cook had ear hair that poofed out about 3 inches, and there was a midget running around in the kitchen. Oh yeah - the food was awful to boot.

Call me uncultured and close-minded, but next time I feel adventurous, I am just going to put a tamale on my burger.

Thursday night, I headed out to meet some friends downtown for dinner at Sadaf. I had already eaten there the previous weeKarld when Lisa had come to visit me and can say without any glimmer of a doubt that Sadaf offers the best Persian cuisine in San Diego. The fact that there are only two restaurants in San Diego that offer Persian cuisine shouldn’t detract anything from this statement - the food there is excellent, especially the Lubia Polo.

Afterwards, I headed off to the Red Circle with a friend of mine for after-dinner drinks. I had been to the Red Circle once before and had enjoyed myself there. It isn’t too crowded, they offer a great selection of drinks, and the bartender sometimes forgets to ring up drinks that you have ordered. There are two bars in the main room, and a small dance floor in an adjoining room where the DJ plays every mindless rap song you can think of. The general decor of the place is a bit gaudy for my tastes, and it attracts a crowd of middle-aged Goombas that I could do without, but it’s not bad for a few drinks.

Last night, I headed off to Nunu’s, which can only be described as a pair of trusty old shoes. Finding a straight bar in Hillcrest is like seeing Saskwatch, so when you find one you like, you cling on. Nunu’s is the size of my bedroom, but it has a completely cozy and friendly feel. Unlike most dive bars, it doesn’t smell like cheap beer and farts, but like most dive bars, you can walk in with a twenty and walk out nicely buzzed. It has an outdoor patio for smokers and the interior is surrounded by plush circular booths. Nunu’s is located at 3537 Fifth Avenue in Hillcrest.

There is a club in San Diego called 4th and B, and it sucks. This is long overdue, and the only reason that I write this is in the hopes that someone who is trying to figure out a good place to go on a Friday night in San Diego will type in “4th and B” into a Google search and spring upon this blurb. I’ll cut to the chase and make this as concise as possible.

Karl, James, and I went to 4th and B last Fall to watch the Crystal Meth concert. They were putting on a hell of a show and I was having a blast. I looked up and Karl had walked up to the stage in order to get a closer look at the band (or whatever they are called? DJs? I don’t even know anymore). Next thing I know, a bouncer puts his hand on Karl and tells him to get away from the stage. Karl complies, but as he is walking away, he tells the bouncer: “Fine, just don’t touch me.”

I think everything is fine, so I continue dancing. Two minutes later, the bouncer returns and starts yelling in Karl’s face. I sense that something might go wrong, so I start to head over to find out what is going on. Next thing I know, another bouncer has approached me from behind and put my arm behind my back.

This isn’t the first time that I’ve been put into an arm lock by a bounce who is substantially larger than me, so I say, “Listen, I don’t know what you’re doing. I just wanted to talk to my friend.” He tells me to just stop struggling, which I wasn’t doing in the first place, and drags me out. A few moments later, I see Karl get dragged out in a similar fashion. A few minutes later, James calmly strolls out.

I spend the next twenty or so minutes, barking at the doorman, demanding to see a manager. Finally, someone comes out and we discuss the situation. He says that the best thing is to call back the following day.

To make a long story short, I pursue the thing for several weeks, but am never given a satisfactory resolution to the problem. So the next best thing is to complain about it on my website. If you are going to 4th and B, be warned - the bouncers are mentally unstable, roid-rage morons.

You spread your love too thin,
And you gloss over nooks and crannies as your soft hand
Rakes a swathe
Through my hair.

You float over surfaces like a mixtical elixir,
Oozing and vacuous,
Dissipating at a moment’s notice,
Into icicle breezes.

The warmth you convey,
Is like being high,
And therefore,
Is transient and shallow and utterly useless.
It blows away like dust.

The love you impart,
Is fierce and strong,
But I think it’s mostly for yourself.
So you can sit content
And think of all the people
That you have positively influenced.

So find yourself another mirror,
Because this reflection has grown bored.

By the way, don’t call me anymore.

Oh and another thing…..Update your damn website. Millions of people look to the internet for entertainment each day… at least six of those people look to the Weihouse for part of that daily dose of entertainment. - James Blair

Personally, I would be amazed to know that six people looked at my website on a daily basis. Now, I know Jamie looks at it, but that’s because his face is the first thing you see when he opens the website and he likes that. I know Karl looks at it, but I have this sneaking suspicion that the only reason he is looking at it is because he wants to make sure that I’m not doing anything clever that he should be doing on his website. I don’t think my family really looks at it, well my Mom does sometimes because I always get e-mails that say “Jiyan, I can’t open up Miguk.” So anyway, six people is pretty impressive to me.

I think part of the reason I’ve not (look at that - damnit Jamie! I never used to write thing like ‘I’ve not” until I went to London) been updating my site as frequently is first, because I’ve been out of town, and second, because I’ve been focusing on trying to draw out this new site.

Yesterday, I went to “Comic-Con,” at the San Diego convention center and tried to do some networking for VGXtreme. There was a lot of scantily clad women there for some reason. Actually, the whole placed was laced with an underlying sexuality. Actually, it wasn’t really underlying, it was kind of in your face. Have you ever looked in a comic book lately? The women all have surgically enhanced breasts and not an ounce of fat on their bodies. Also, they were skimpy outfits that make them look naked basically. I can only imagine the kind of havoc that these images must be wreaking to hormonally charged adolescent males. Anyway, we are going to shoot some interviews this afternoon (the first real shoot in about three months) and I’m looking forward to it. On a side note, Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, who I had a crush on from age 14-now was there yesterday but I missed her because I had to come home and work. Oh well, maybe another day Elvira.

Tonight, Karl and I met Rena, a friend of ours who we haven’t seen in a while, her cousin, and Michelle at a sushi bar/club named Cafe Japengo. Cafe Japengo was the type of bar where people in their mid-thirties go to be hip. Karl and I drove up in his Ford Aspire rental and took advantage of the valet parking amidst a torrent of mercedes, lexus, bmw’s, etc. We walked in and I was amused to hear Snoop Dogg’s ” Ain’t No Fun (If The Homies Can’t Have None)” and even more amused to watch people in their mid-thirties wearing v-neck t-shirts bob their head in rhythm to the lyrics. The place was crowded as all hell and I had the distinct feeling that I was drowning and trying to keep my head above water as I was pushed to and fro by a flurry of overweight bachelors seeking their prey. Getting a drink was such as hassle that I felt compelled to down it in one sip after finally getting it, just to relieve the growing sharpness in my head that had resulted from trying to get the bartender’s attention for literally fifteen minutes.

Despite the hassle of being in a “trendy” bar, it was great to see Rena and Michelle and to meet Rena’s cousin. Rena was also fed up with the crowd, so she decided to reserve a table. The hostess handed us a beeper that went off after about thirty minutes, signaling a free table. When we arrived at the front in order to be seated, we were met by a hostess who asked,

“Wait, how many of you are there again?”

We then proceeded to mull around the front area for about twenty minutes as the hostess proceeded to ignore us. Finally, we got fed up and headed into downtown La Jolla in search of a better venue. As we were driving out, it was amusing to see all the testosterone depleted aging bachelors peel out of the valet parking space in their beamers. God, help me and never let me become that bachelor. Have the compassion to give me the decency to be married by 35, and the luxury to sit at home with a movie and a beer.

Anyway, the Piece de Resistance was yet to come. It arrived when we were forced to wait in line to get into another “trendy” bar, while we watched some cellulite heroine walk straight past the line and into the club, leading a group of five men. The moron bouncer looked at us and said, “Don’t worry, everyone is going to get in tonight.” He quickly added, “How many of you are there again?”

I had heard this once before and I wasn’t very surprised when after a few minutes had passed, a stream of chicKarl heads walked straight through. This was the last straw (thankfully), and we headed home.

I saw a glimpse of a different life in La Jolla. It is like a watered down version of “Sex in the City,” which, while being an entertaining show, has probably got to invoke one of the most worthless images of life I’ve ever seen.

I don’t know what it is that compels people to parade their social status around with such a lack of modesty. You have a lexus? Who cares? You have breast implants? Who cares? You have a mansion in La Jolla? WHO CARES?

You know what? It’s boring to me.

I was walking in the door, ready to go to sleep when these words came to me: “God loves the little people.” I’m not some religious freak, but there’s meaning in this. There is more beauty in a bum wearing a burlap sack, reading a yellow book than in all the vacuous entities combined in all “trendy” establishments.

Am I annoyed? God damn right! My final words of the night? DON’T GO TO CAFE JAPENGO AND DON’T GO OUT IN LA JOLLA. Save your money and spend some time with some good friends at some dive bar.

I just got back from Boston last night after attending my companies’ annual meeting. I arrived on Saturday evening and we spent all day Sunday eating lobsters and crabs at the company president’s house on the lake. His brother owns a yacht, which has a full-time crew. The reason I mention this is because the crew is composed of New Zealanders and they made something called a “Hungi” at the picnic. They dug a pit which was about 3′ deep and probably around 4′ in diameter, and filled it with wood which later burned down into coals. Earlier that day, they had welded two iron beams to a metal cannister and once the coals had simmered down a bit, they placed the contraption on top of the fire pit. They had wrapped several pounds of meat in cheesecloth, and they placed the meat, along with a copious amount of corn and potatos, inside of the metal canister. After four hours, the food was ready for consumption. The method facilitated a delicious transfer of odors and tastes between the various foodstuff that was contained within the canister.
The meetings themselves were amazing in that I managed to keep my focus for eight hours straight. The two and a half day meetings were full of debate and analysis, and they even included an open-forum on ethics. I gave a twenty-minute presentation on internet security, a monitoring system that I had helped to standardize, and several emerging on-line trends.

In my spare time, I managed to go running and kayaking. In the evenings, we sat out on the deck with cigars and a glass of wine and discussed family life. I kept getting inundated with advice not to marry until I was about thirty years old, which I already agree with 100%. I also got to really know the other people in my company on a more personal level and it made me a lot more enthusiastic about the work that I am doing.

Anyway, I’m back. On the plane, I more or less drew up how I want my new site to look, so it won’t be long until it is up and running.

July 25 - Things have been a bit fast and furious lately, not in that “Vin Diesel/XXX” sort of way, but more like in that “Dilbert” sort of way. Actually, I can’t compare my job to Dilbert. My job is great - I get to work at home, there is plenty of room in my job for creativity, I’m learning a ton, and the people I work with are absolutely out of this world.

At the end of the month, I have to write several reports and they are really time consuming. I start acting cranky and lock myself in my room and don’t talk to anyone. It’s sort of like a work-induced PMS. And what have I been doing for fun when I’m not sitting in front of my computer and writing? I’ve been sitting in front of my computer and plotting the new site.

I have made the evolution into “nerd.” That’s okay, once the site is up, it will all be worth it.

Going to Boston this weekend. Hopefully, in my spare time, I’ll be able to map out the details of the site so it won’t take that long to create when I get back. I’m aiming for two weeks down the road.

In the meantime, if anyone has any suggestions or advice, I’d really love to hear them. Or if anyone wants to send content that you want me to add to the site, I’d love to take a look.

I’ve decided that it’s finally time to start an on-line project that encompasses a wider array of talent. I see it as an on-line community of artists, writers, videographers, and musicians who love what they do and need a forum to broadcast their talent. Organization of the site is the main problem at the moment - I’m trying to decide whether to go artsy with a site theme, or keep it organized and regimented. I am already thinking that I will have something for the two other contributors to this site: Amber and Jamie that will seek to enhance their presence. I’d like to create a section for analytical writing that Jamie would be a regular contributor to, and maybe create a “journal” section or something like that for Amber. In addition, I would like to have the following sections: digital art section, videography, conventional art, creative writing, music, and finally, a little section for myself called “world explorer” or something like that - it would be a world map that shows all the placed I’ve been, and contains all the writing, video, and pictures I’ve done there. As I continue to travel, this is something that I will continue to update.
It’s still very formative right now, but I’ve got it in my sights.