fragments of memory

I suspect there'll come a day when I look back and regret curtailing regular posting on this LJ. Even if there isn't as much back-and-forth interaction as there used to be, it's a great reference to come back to and remember the standout moments that have happened—good, bad and ugly.

So in the spirit of recording standout moments, can I tell you about my experiences seeing The Cure twice in the past month? I'm pretty emotional about it all.



( Salt Lake City and Atlanta )

Hopefully this post wasn't too disjointed—I just wanted to get it out, whatever the final form.

So, like. Things got off to a rocky start when JT came out and instantaneously called us Las Vegas.

That's...not where you are, J. You can call us Phoenix, or Arizona, or AZ. But not Vegas.

Also, there are three inalienable takeaways from tonight's concert:

1. I find modern-day Justin completely unattractive. I tried, the entire night, to find flashes of the boy that I thought was so beautiful, but there was absolutely nothing. I know I'm in the minority, but I am just not feeling what's going on with him these days.

2. He cannot dance effectively in those pretentious suit thingies he insists on wearing. If you think it's good, you need to watch some vintage NSYNC concert footage on YouTube. You just do.

3. He plays a lot of crap that no one wants to listen to. If I wanted to hear Elvis songs, I'd go see one of those tribute bands at the casinos on the Indian reservation. I wouldn't be at a Justin Timberlake concert.

Apart from all of the judgement-worthy items, though, it was actually a very positive experience. Will have more thoughts + pics tomorrow.

Before I embarked on my DC trip last weekend, a handful of my coworkers anxiously implored me not to meet some guy and fall in love while I was there. I didn't meet a guy, but I did fall deeply and instantaneously in love with the city itself. It's how I expected to feel about San Francisco—and then didn't—and now here I am, feeling it about someplace else entirely.

I was amazed by everything. The strikingly clear weather. The fact that I could dust off my fall clothes and actually wear them. The joyful travel-aided transition from acquaintances to friends. Our confusion at whether we were indeed gazing upon the White House. (Thanks to Google Images, we were able to confirm that we were.) Seeing Audrey, dear friend, light of my life, and fellow ghost-hunting enthusiast, for the first time in nearly a year. Vodka shots, at long last, with thorne_scratch. The Loews Madison Hotel. The bed at the Loews Madison Hotel, and sleeping for 11 hours straight, dead to the world, behind blackout drapes. Georgetown Cupcake. The seemingly endless parade of good-looking men. The insanely beautiful view of the Potomac as we walked across the Key Bridge to Arlington. Cheering friends across the finish line of the Marine Corps Marathon. Dinner at Oyamél. Feeling at home, and crazily happy, in this wonderful place.

( Pics. )

I didn't want to come home. I'm becoming increasingly restless in Phoenix—I've built a life here, a good life, but I feel more and more like another life is waiting for me somewhere else. Maybe in DC, maybe not. It has definitely given me something to think about.

Two close friends got Mauied last Saturday, and I can think of few better reasons for a trip to Hawaii to celebrate with them.

( Sun, sand, volcano, and the Road to Hana. )

It was really, really hard to leave. I'd never been to Hawaii before, and it was wonderful, a place where you truly do feel happily disconnected from your real life and the real world.

A few months ago, my sister asked me, "If you could do anything in the world for your 30th birthday, what would it be?"

To which I replied, "Watch Lincecum pitch at AT&T Park."

( And so, last weekend, we found ourselves in San Francisco. )

I can see why people write songs about this city.

<3

I'm not doing a great job of remembering to take pictures, but hopefully I'll improve over the course of the week.

( Day 2: Wednesday. )

I had a delicious little dream about Nick Carter—of all people—last night. Where was that dream 12 years ago, when I actually cared about the Backstreet Boys?

It's been a really hectic week+ around here, lots of relatives in town to celebrate my grandma's 90th birthday. I did quite a bit of cooking for the crew, and was really proud of a dinner I made last weekend, which turned out to be one of those moments you always hope for in the kitchen. Salmon rubbed with olive oil, turmeric, garlic powder, and lots of salt, oven-roasted at a high temp until medium (my favorite way to prepare salmon, by far). Salad of roasted asparagus, mushrooms, baby cauliflower, zucchini, and carrots, tossed with a sherry vinaigrette and some handfuls of watercress, slowly wilting amongst the warm vegetables. My neighborhood AJ's had this farm-raised New Zealand salmon that the seafood dudes claimed was the best salmon they'd ever had. I was a bit skeptical, but I bought it and I have to say that I concur. My aunt and uncle, who live in Portland and eat some of the best salmon available, also agreed. For dessert, there were berries mixed with sugar and lemon juice, served on shortcakes infused with significant amounts of citrus zest and topped with whipped cream. We whipped the cream by hand, everyone taking a turn. (It's very tiring!)

I'll remember that meal forever.

My cousin was staying with me, and he helped me finish up the last couple of episodes of Breaking Bad on Netflix. That series was really hard work in the beginning (I could barely get through the first four or five eps), but after that point I pretty much mainlined it. I think I did nine episodes once upon a Saturday, which—judging by conversations I've had with friends—is not all that unusual. And of course I had to check out the fic, but it's not looking good. Jesse Pinkman is a thumbs-up, but I just don't think I want to read porn about Walter White, it's harder work than getting through the first five episodes. Has anyone else managed it?

That said, if anyone has any non-AO3 recs, or knows where I can find full episodes from Season 5 (not yet available on Netflix), I'd be very grateful :)

Seeing Buster Posey at Starbucks this morning made my heart flutter. Kind of unexpected (didn't realize the Giants were staying at the Ritz), but a most welcome surprise :)

Decided not to go any Giants/Dbacks games this weekend and instead save my money for next weekend in San Francisco. Which reminds me—

Does anyone have suggestions of fun (and relatively cheap) things to do/places to eat/bars to patronize in SF? Last time I was there we wandered and saw random places and had a marvelous time, but I'd like to have a few ideas in mind for those moments when we don't know what to do next.

Got back a little while ago from catching Crosby, Stills & Nash at Symphony Hall. I have never before been to a rock concert that had an intermission, but that is apparently how they roll. Also, the crowd would stand and applaud after every song, and then immediatelysitbackdown, as you might expect from a bunch of sixtysomethings. And yet, when they played "Suite: Judy Blue Eyes," dozens of people defied the "no photography" rule to film the song with their smartphones, which I would not necessarily expect from a bunch of sixtysomethings. Interesting dichotomy, there.

It was also interesting to compare and contrast the three members of the band. I like older rockers, but it seems some age better than others. Stephen Stills: not a star. Graham Nash: total rock star who works at it. David Crosby: natural-born star. When someone can stand there, still and quiet, and just put everything into their voice and completely mesmerize you—that's a truly unique gift.

I have a new idea of harmony, now.

Only regret is that they didn't play "Ohio," but then, I suppose that's Neil Young's song. I pulled it up on Youtube afterwards as we were waiting in the epic failtastic line to exit the parking garage; it sufficed.

I went tubing down the Salt River with some friends yesterday, and we ended up meeting a couple of guys, which is the last thing I expected on the river. But I was agreeable to the whole thing, especially since I spent two hours floating alongside a pretty passable Rafael Nadal lookalike boy who was sweet and had a cute name, and we talked and talked and talked about our families, his HS football career, my love for the SF Giants, bucket lists, being out on the water, bird dogs—so many things. He was beautiful, and Cali boy was officially in the rearview. When we beached our tubes and got out at the end of the line, he hugged me...and then he left.







...I am so confused.

In other news, I've been watching a lot of Olympic coverage, and while my head's all about it, my heart's not in it. I was so looking forward to watching Rafa; I still haven't quite gotten past that disappointment. And the swimming (which used to be my fave, pre-Beijing) is so Phelps/Lochte focused (and I have little patience for either of them) that I can barely stand to watch. I miss the days of Ian Thorpe dominating the 400m free, and narrowly winning the 200m free with Pieter van den Hoogenband unzipping his suit for him at the end of the race, and Michael Phelps the gawky upstart who posed no real threat, only served as idle amusement and occasional partner in fic.

I'm trying to avoid a complete "damn kids, get off my lawn" attitude, but, you know, I think the Olympics were better with Ian and Rafa involved.

( A brief trip down memory lane, mostly Athens with a quick stopover in Beijing. )