Bleeding Fiction

Sunday night, I entered Seattle's trendy underbelly. I was one of 12 carefully screened guests to visit Cache. An unlicensed restaurant, it's a small architect's office by day, and shows it with blueprints all over the front room. Open only one night a week, seating books out two months in advance; but it's so secretive you can't know where it is until you confirm your reservation. They take only cash, but $40 of your $60 "donation" goes to the ingredients.

And, God, does it show. We opened with "Cache's signature cocktail" - a delicious blend of grapefruit, gin, orange liqueur, an exclusive, specialty bitters and a dash of fresh pepper - and rolled into the appetizer from there. It was an orecchiette with lamb ragu. The lamb was rich - a bit of zing, a little tart - and the pasta was plump and meaty, hand-pressed and air-dried for 56 hours. The wine - a smooth, light red - was an excellent counter-balance.

The entree came next - leg of lamb, sweet squash & butter puree ala salsa verde; a great contrast with the early appetizer. This was creamy and sweet, and the lamb was so tender it fell apart just touching your tongue. Again, the wine was red and countered the dish with a fruity flavor and rich tannins.

Dessert was a double-header, home-made pineapple sorbet and coconut whipped cream, with fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, and the two blended perfectly together. Wine this time was a slightly sparkling white - only a little dry, and not at all sweet; a good thing, given the sorbet's strong flavor. It was the first white wine that I've ever really liked, and I'll pick up a bottle or two when the weather turns sunny again.

So that was dinner, made by two people with no training, just a passion for good cuisine and an active hobby. Go, if you can. There's not much I can think of that's more... "Seattle."

Today I found out that Shel Silverstein wrote the Johnny Cash song A Boy Named Sue. Reading that felt like getting hit by a bolt of musical lightning - it made such perfect sense, fit together so well, I couldn't imagine how I'd never noticed the connection.

Makes an already cool song even cooler, to my mind.

"Guys want to eat meat," my friend Aimi said last night. "They want to. Especially western guys. There's no way a western guy could be vegetarian for a month."

"Oh, really," said I. But rather than pointing out my several male friends who are both of European descent and vegetarian, I said that I was sure I could do it, for the month of May.

Aimi wanted me to shoot for straight-up vegan, but Hula pointed out that then I wouldn't really be able to drink beer out at the bar.

I should get along just fine... But I am running the hell to Red Robin as soon as June rolls around.

I honestly don't even know how to respond to this. The paranoia? The betrayal? The UTTERLY INSANE response?

Riskay feat. Aviance and Real - Smell Yo D***
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Honestly? If you suspect/believe your fella is cheating on you, there are much, much better ways to confirm if it's true.

All day, my left eye has felt like someone's been pressing a stick up against it. Taking out my contacts hasn't helped. Neither has liberal use of eye wash.

The pain's actually bad enough that it's making me generally nauseous and sick to my stomach.

I'm really hoping this pain will go away soon.

New people introduce you to new things. One of the cooler people I've met since my return to Seattle has introduced me to two new bands. Indulge me, please, while I steal a page from Hans and blog about their albums.

First up, The Libertines (Up the Bracket and a second, self-titled album). From the name, I expected them to be some sort of Decemberists rival-wannabes. What they really are is... well, imagine The Clash, but with about 40% of the punk bled out and yet still somehow good. I think part of it is that they show some of the same wit and cleverness you got from early Who, and the passion is very much there, but there's a little less desperation, too. Also, they're very British. They sort of plow through songs, and while they're not unplugged, they're a little lo fi and under-produced, which adds a lot to the sound. Unfortunately, it also means they never quite reach the level of raw noise they would if they actually were The Clash, which is a definite disappointment. I like them despite that, though, and it's a shame they're not together anymore.

Fortunately, The Fratellis are. These guys are basically a British We Are Scientists with the ratio of rock and pop flipped (which is to say: more pop, less rock). They make the guitars more prominent, but give them less reverb, string them a little looser (for the twang) and play fewer power-chords. At the same time, they cut out the furious pounding of the drums and lay down a steady back-beat at the root of everything and vamp the harmonies to keep the songs on-theme. It makes them a little more comfortable listening than the Libertines are, and the production boosts the sound to compensate and keep them from blending into the background. They sound, actually, a little like WAS mixed with Blur. Very good stuff, and I'm looking forward to their next album.

(and, entertainingly, Pandora will play both bands right alongside We Are Scientists when you put any one of those three in as the key band of a station.)

The Dalai Lama's been hanging out in Seattle all weekend, for a series of lectures and events and things. His English is a little shaky, his answers to questions are a little rambling, but he's funny and he keeps saying something profound. I mean, just one refrain, repeated a few times over:

"I don't know."

It's sort of rare in a world leader, I think; to just be able to admit, without shame or dissembling, that there are some things outside his area of experience and better left to experts. It's refreshing to hear.

Plus, he made some jokes about safe sex.

This being a production of Sad Kermit

Unfortunately, you'll have to go to their MySpace site to hear an absolutely haunting version of the Rainbow Connection, which they call "the Rainbow Disconnection." Actually, you could just link to the mp3 here. It's freaky what a key change and a shift to minor chords can do. I mean it: absolutely haunting

From a Q&A on Whitechapel, Warren's message board:

ValCapone: For a guy who claims to hate people, I have to wonder: why torture yourself with multiple message boards and attempts to answer the questions of the idiot masses?

Warren Ellis: So that I can hate people BETTER.

- also -

InvincibleM: Mr. Ellis, If you were able to punch any one person, living or dead, in the jaw, who would it be?

Warren Ellis: You.

I think everyone has certain rules by which they live their life; guidelines set by themselves or the people close to them. Tonight, I'm thinking of thinking of a rule I was held to in high school:

Never be the first to leave.

Folks liked my company, I guess, and got tired of seeing me ditch out early just because I had to make a half hour drive home. So someone (Vitaly? Rich?) made the rule. I had to stay until at least one other person got up to go. It was a good rule. It gave me the freedom to commit to anything. After all, I couldn't leave, so I had to at least be having fun.

I went out to a bar with some friends tonight. Typical Wednesday night at the College Inn. I saw some folks I hadn't seen for a while, met some cool new people. But then I had to catch a bus, the last to get me home.

I was the first to leave.

Everyone gave me a look that said "But we've barely had time to say hello." And the truth is, I felt it. Too many people I didn't get to talk to, too many friends I barely got to see. Generally I'm glad to live in Green Lake; as the days get warmer and I'm able to spend more time at the lake/park itself, I'll be even happier for it. But night's like this make me really wish I'd decided to live in the U District again.

Or at least that I had a car.