My aunt emailed me and asked what restaurants I like in Little Tokyo for a friend of hers who's is visiting. Here what I sent her:
Thousand Cranes
120 S Los Angeles St
This restaurant in the New Otani hotel has excellent food but at a price: $$$$. I only come here as someone’s guest.
R-23 Japanese Cuisine
923 E 2nd St Ste 109
This one is actually in the arts district, just a few blocks from Little Tokyo. Great Japanese fusion. Again, I usually can’t afford it so I only come here on special occasions. $$$
Daikokuya
327 E 1st St
My absolute favorite ramen place. I won’t eat ramen anywhere else. I would come here every day except I don’t want to clog my arteries. I’ve waited in line up to an hour trying to get in on busy nights. $
Izayoi
132 S Central Ave
Great food at a good price. The sashimi is delectable! A small but nice restaurant. $$
Suehiro Cafe
337 E First St
This is my Little Tokyo cafeteria. The food is okay (I usually order the bentos), but I find myself eating here a lot. The service is almost always slow. $$
Sushi Gen
422 E Second St
Good sashimi. They have a great lunch special and the portions are definitely American. The wait is often atrocious, and not worth it like Daikokuya. $$
Most of the time on my lunch break I just grab quick eats at either Las Galas, Robecks, La Chicken, and most often Marukai's Market.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Is there a better word for Star-Struck?
Random ramblings on stardom when I can’t sleep.
Growing up in Los Angles it’s easy to be desensitized with the Hollywood machine and its byproducts, namely the “star”. They scurry on the same freeways I drive on, they collect things at the same stores I shop at, they feed at the same restaurants I eat at, they’ve shared the same incubators where I’ve studied at, they stare at the same moving images (and show off their pink sequined studded g-strings) at the VC Film Fest, and they’ve even played stupid drinking games with me the watering holes that I drink at. So when I cross paths with a “star” I’m usually more impressed with the random rodent in Chinatown.
This evening my wife and I had a friend come over to watch the kids so we could see a late night screening of PUBLIC ENEMY: WELCOME TO THE TERRORDOME, as part of the AFI film festival. Unfortunately, the film missed many marks to explore the impact of their music with the people should really count, and it was unclear what the film was trying to achieve. Yes, it was enjoyable, but it seemed like it was shot from the POV of a groupie.
To my surprise it turned out to be the world premier of the film and with that, as we sat in the theater right next to a throng of hip-hop stars. Directly behind me, and occasionally bumping my seat was Cool Mod Dee, directly behind my wife was Nas, and one more down him was Flavor Flav, who kept spilling pop-corn on a friend of ours (thanks for saving us those seats)! Further behind them sat Chuck D, and the rest of the Public Enemy crew. I was star-struck, or at least I thought I was. I was in awe to be in the presence of some of the people who first introduced me to art as social critique and resistance.
By time the Q&A started and the stars came out on stage we had to hurry home to relieve our friend of the now sleeping kids. On the way out of the theater I ran into an old friend who I went to school with and used to DJ my house parties. He has since become a “star” and is at the top of his field where he deserves to be (he always had the talent, but now he also has the fame). I said a quick hello and introduced him to my wife. There was a moment of disappointment when I realized that he might have not remembered my name, or even who I was, and I awkwardly said goodnight.
But alas this is Los Angeles, the land of plastic, and old friends move on and fame comes and goes. And while I was walking with my wife to the car I began to ponder whether I had finally become star-struck with Public Enemy. I was someone who admired their work and their impact on my life. Their fame had little to do this. I was both excited and honored to be in the same place sitting next to some of the people who have influenced a generation more that I could ever dream of doing with my own work. I concluded that what I as feeling was far from being star-struck, but an artist who appreciated their impact, and I could retain my self-imposed title of a native Angelino who could give a rats-ass about stars. But after this revelation, I had to ask myself: why then did I try to add Carson Daily as a friend on Facebook a day before when I did a search for High School classmates.
As for Lucas, the DJ standing outside the theater, maybe he didn’t want to remember that he used to DJ my small house parties, sometimes just for a friend who could only provide him with a meal at the end of the night. Maybe all he needs to remember is where he is headed, not how he got there. And if so, hopefully he didn’t remember that I still owed him a dinner for a party he DJ’d over 10 years ago. And finally, what’s so bad about being star-struck in this media saturated society, and why am I hating on others and myself for being so?
Growing up in Los Angles it’s easy to be desensitized with the Hollywood machine and its byproducts, namely the “star”. They scurry on the same freeways I drive on, they collect things at the same stores I shop at, they feed at the same restaurants I eat at, they’ve shared the same incubators where I’ve studied at, they stare at the same moving images (and show off their pink sequined studded g-strings) at the VC Film Fest, and they’ve even played stupid drinking games with me the watering holes that I drink at. So when I cross paths with a “star” I’m usually more impressed with the random rodent in Chinatown.
This evening my wife and I had a friend come over to watch the kids so we could see a late night screening of PUBLIC ENEMY: WELCOME TO THE TERRORDOME, as part of the AFI film festival. Unfortunately, the film missed many marks to explore the impact of their music with the people should really count, and it was unclear what the film was trying to achieve. Yes, it was enjoyable, but it seemed like it was shot from the POV of a groupie.
To my surprise it turned out to be the world premier of the film and with that, as we sat in the theater right next to a throng of hip-hop stars. Directly behind me, and occasionally bumping my seat was Cool Mod Dee, directly behind my wife was Nas, and one more down him was Flavor Flav, who kept spilling pop-corn on a friend of ours (thanks for saving us those seats)! Further behind them sat Chuck D, and the rest of the Public Enemy crew. I was star-struck, or at least I thought I was. I was in awe to be in the presence of some of the people who first introduced me to art as social critique and resistance.
By time the Q&A started and the stars came out on stage we had to hurry home to relieve our friend of the now sleeping kids. On the way out of the theater I ran into an old friend who I went to school with and used to DJ my house parties. He has since become a “star” and is at the top of his field where he deserves to be (he always had the talent, but now he also has the fame). I said a quick hello and introduced him to my wife. There was a moment of disappointment when I realized that he might have not remembered my name, or even who I was, and I awkwardly said goodnight.
But alas this is Los Angeles, the land of plastic, and old friends move on and fame comes and goes. And while I was walking with my wife to the car I began to ponder whether I had finally become star-struck with Public Enemy. I was someone who admired their work and their impact on my life. Their fame had little to do this. I was both excited and honored to be in the same place sitting next to some of the people who have influenced a generation more that I could ever dream of doing with my own work. I concluded that what I as feeling was far from being star-struck, but an artist who appreciated their impact, and I could retain my self-imposed title of a native Angelino who could give a rats-ass about stars. But after this revelation, I had to ask myself: why then did I try to add Carson Daily as a friend on Facebook a day before when I did a search for High School classmates.
As for Lucas, the DJ standing outside the theater, maybe he didn’t want to remember that he used to DJ my small house parties, sometimes just for a friend who could only provide him with a meal at the end of the night. Maybe all he needs to remember is where he is headed, not how he got there. And if so, hopefully he didn’t remember that I still owed him a dinner for a party he DJ’d over 10 years ago. And finally, what’s so bad about being star-struck in this media saturated society, and why am I hating on others and myself for being so?
Monday, November 5, 2007
Going through some old documents on my computer Part II
Again, old writings from my MFA program, probably 8 years old. Can anyone guess who I was reading? :)
Thoughts on Nietzsche, Art, and Moon Travel
Oh what a grand performance it would be to catapult myself to the moon and return in one piece in the name of art! And its grandness is not relegated to the mere spectacle of the event, but in my will to power, my vision, my ability to act out such an absurd notion... Just because I can! For if a cow can jump over the moon, surely I can at least, if not jump over, be able to jump on the moon and poke the man in the eye! But I may need some help to get there, for I have tried with a running start, and cannot leave but three feet off the ground. Shall I summon the slaves to all gather and throw me to the moon? Or have they all become ill with sickness? Or shall I summon god’s Oedipal child who goes by the name of science?
But what A grand performance it was on July 20, 1969! For scientists, those seekers of truth, their numbers worked out (lucky maybe). But even more of an accomplishment the human nature’s ‘will to power’ has once again affirmed and asserted itself onto the moon. What does it matter that those petty scientists who have helped us with our feat have stolen the credit away from such a splendid triumph of human creativity. This performance, I argue is undoubtedly a work art.
Thoughts on Nietzsche, Art, and Moon Travel
Oh what a grand performance it would be to catapult myself to the moon and return in one piece in the name of art! And its grandness is not relegated to the mere spectacle of the event, but in my will to power, my vision, my ability to act out such an absurd notion... Just because I can! For if a cow can jump over the moon, surely I can at least, if not jump over, be able to jump on the moon and poke the man in the eye! But I may need some help to get there, for I have tried with a running start, and cannot leave but three feet off the ground. Shall I summon the slaves to all gather and throw me to the moon? Or have they all become ill with sickness? Or shall I summon god’s Oedipal child who goes by the name of science?
But what A grand performance it was on July 20, 1969! For scientists, those seekers of truth, their numbers worked out (lucky maybe). But even more of an accomplishment the human nature’s ‘will to power’ has once again affirmed and asserted itself onto the moon. What does it matter that those petty scientists who have helped us with our feat have stolen the credit away from such a splendid triumph of human creativity. This performance, I argue is undoubtedly a work art.
Going through some old documents on my computer
Here's a list that I wrote for a quick artist statement almost 9 years ago when I was getting my MFA. I must have been influenced by Hegelian Dialectics, and it's kinda of strange to read now. It was a precursor to my MFA thesis. I kind of don't REALLY want people to read it for fear of what it says about me, then and now, but here it is anyway:
10 Reasons Why I Couldn’t Sleep Last Night
May 2, 1999
1. I didn’t drink my self to sleep or take sedatives
2. Tried to figure out whether the relationship between a human cell and it’s mitochondria is mutually beneficial or exploitative by nature.
3. Too busy thinking and forgot to masturbate.
4. Tried to figure why people expect change from a vending machine, and not a pay-phone.
5. What ant mounds would look like if the worker ants liberated themselves and became individuals.
6. Tried to figure out why George Washington was in the dictionary and not the chancellor of the Third Reich.
7. Tried to imagine the world without war and destruction.
8. Tried to imagine the Galapagos Islands without it’s diversity in finches.
9. Tried to understand Lisa Mihm’s relationship with chicken trucks and time travel.
10. Tried to understand the relationship between both monks and masturbation; and rocketry and rape.
10 Reasons Why I Couldn’t Sleep Last Night
May 2, 1999
1. I didn’t drink my self to sleep or take sedatives
2. Tried to figure out whether the relationship between a human cell and it’s mitochondria is mutually beneficial or exploitative by nature.
3. Too busy thinking and forgot to masturbate.
4. Tried to figure why people expect change from a vending machine, and not a pay-phone.
5. What ant mounds would look like if the worker ants liberated themselves and became individuals.
6. Tried to figure out why George Washington was in the dictionary and not the chancellor of the Third Reich.
7. Tried to imagine the world without war and destruction.
8. Tried to imagine the Galapagos Islands without it’s diversity in finches.
9. Tried to understand Lisa Mihm’s relationship with chicken trucks and time travel.
10. Tried to understand the relationship between both monks and masturbation; and rocketry and rape.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Man, I hate working on the weekends
But things need to get done. By time I get home the kids should be talking a nap. Can't wait to hug them.
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