The Tripes And Trotters Of Cassis

Late yesterday afternoon, I had a brainstorm in my office.

(Of course, the brainstorm was entirely unrelated to the sponsorship advertisement I was in the process of designing for my firm in InDesign.)

I turned to my colleagues Sachi and Kameko. “Hey,” I said. “What are your plans for lunch on Monday?”

“Nothing,” Sachi responded, Kameko agreeing with her with a nod of her head. “Why? What’s your plan?”

“I was thinking we could dash across the street for the grand opening of Cassis,” I chirped happily.

“Cassis?” Sachi stared at me blankly. “What’s Cassis?”

“That new Chef Mavro restaurant that’s taking the place of Palomino,” I said.

“Oh, ew!” Sachi replied, wrinkling her nose, clearly sharing my disdain for any eatery that would take the place of The Horse Place. “What’s it supposed to be like?”

I read to her over my shoulder from the review on Six New Things: “In the Harbor Court space vacated by Palomino, Chef Mavrothalassitis plans to serve down-to-earth bistro classics like rotisserie chicken with a plum wine sauce, a house-smoked Chinese duck salad with poached egg, and a classic tarte tatin flavored with plummy li hing mui. Inspired by Cassis, Paris, Alsace and Honolulu, he says, the 295-seat ‘everyday’ restaurant Cassis Honolulu opens April 30, 66 Queen Street, Honolulu, 808.545.8100.” I swiveled around in my Herman Miller Aeron to raise my eyebrows at Sachi and Kameko. “Sound good? I mean I at least want to try it once,” I said, in defense of my lunch suggestion.

“Do they have a lunch menu online yet?” Sachi, ever the lunch menu Nazi, pressed further.

I hopped onto the new restaurant’s website. It did, in fact, already feature a lunch menu. The three of us read the items together.

“Red Seviche…” I read. “For…thirteen dollars?!”

Kameko laughed. “Soup du Jour is eleven dollars!” She laughed again. “That is so not an ‘everyday restaurant’ price!”

Sachi peered over my shoulder at the screen. “Tripes and Trotters?!” she exclaimed in horror, not at the nineteen dollar plate price tag but at the name of the menu item itself. “So…innards and feet of what animal, exactly?!”

The three of us looked at each other.

“Sooooo…I’ll make reservations at Gordon Biersch, then?” I concluded.

“Um. Yeah,” Sachi replied affirmatively, turning to walk back to her office and muttering under her breath in disbelief, “Tripes and Trotters. What the fuck.”

The problem with this new restaurant is that it is taking the place of a fashionably elegant yet reasonably-priced eatery with a long-established history and clientele, a clientele that will not be expecting the exorbitant prices and overly exotic fare of Chef Mavro’s new culinary endeavor. So it will be very interesting to see exactly how long this new too-haute eatery will remain in business in Downtown Honolulu.

Later that evening, Bartholomew and I sat sipping Cabernet in front of his iMac and giggling in shock and horror at the menu items descriptions and prices.

“You know what,” Bartholomew said, taking a sip of wine. “We should go.”

“What.” I said, mid-sip, stopping to arch my eyebrow at him.

“We should go,” he said, “for pau hana, and sit down and order, ‘Two Maker’s Mark Manhattans with lots of cherries, please, and an order of the ahi carpaccio, and the chickpea fries with balsamic ketchup and two side chop chop salads. Thanks,’” he concluded, having just recited our usual pau hana order at The Horse Place.

I nearly spit my mouthful of Cabernet on his bedroom floor and burst into laughter.

We toasted each other. “Darling,” I said, “that would be awesome!”

Of course we will not be doing this.

But it would still be the perfect way to illustrate to the new establishment that no eatery will ever replace the one that was there for over ten years.

Filed under: Food , a-list, honolulu, linkage, office love, omgwtfbbq, red carpet situations, repartee, rumormongering

IM IN UR BLOGZ!

There was a time in my life during which I was such an interwebs g33k that I impressed everyone I knew with my knowledge of, expertise in, and time spent on the world wide web. I managed websites, designed content, chatted on IRC, and maintained a strong presence on several design / interweb related online forums.

Now, however, I count myself fortunate if I manage to check my e-mail and blog each day.

Sometimes, I become wistful for those formative and playful online years of mine.

But then I remind myself that I actually have a real life now from which I have no desire to escape, and the wistfulness turns into simply fond nostalgia of a…different…time in my life.

Anyway, that is not my point. My point is this: I just discovered the “I Can Has Cheezburger?” blog this week. (This would be the reason why I so clearly illustrated that I am not a webophile anymore: because everyone else on the whole wide interwebs probably discovered this blog ages ago.) It has kept me thoroughly entertained and perpetually giggling all week long.

It even managed to inspire my dear friend A.V. Flox to design an hysterically humorous (well, if you know me and my blog) graphic in the style of “Teh Cheezburger.”

I think it might just go on my blog’s “About” page. *giggles wickedly*

Filed under: Blogging, Design, Web Design , a-list, alucina, humor, linkage, memories, omgwtfbbq, pimpage

On High In Blue Tomorrows

The New York Times film critic Manohla Dargis, in her uncharacteristically laudatory review of David Lynch’s new film “Inland Empire,” The Trippy Dream Factory of David Lynch,” writes, “Mr. Lynch revisits that bewitched boulevard [of broken dreams called Hollywood] in the extraordinary, savagely uncompromised ‘Inland Empire,’ his first feature in five years, his first shot in video and one of the few films I’ve seen this year that deserves to be called art.”

Shockingly, I could not agree with her more.

Last evening I attended what the film’s website promises to be the solitary Hawaii screening of “Inland Empire,” a screening made possible for the Hawaii International Film Festival’s Tenth Annual Spring Showcase. For three hours, I sat in stunned transfixion, as my reactions ranged from bewilderment, to claustrophobia, to giddy laughter, to supreme horror. It was not a film to be taken (or experienced) lightly, and certainly one that I think all who have attempted to write reviews of it (at least those who will admit that the film is what it is: a piece of art) would agree defies all description, definition, or categorization.

I will refrain from attempting here to do any of those things, and simply write that if anyone who reads this is afforded the chance to witness this cinematic spectacle on a theatre’s screen as opposed to the small screen when it is released on DVD on June 12: DO IT! I doubt that you will be disappointed. The writing, the composition, the visual obfuscation, the intense aural assaults, the direction, and the performances by all actors but most certainly by Laura Dern, are simply…stunning.

It is a piece of cinematic art that should not be missed.

Filed under: Art, Editorials, Film, Writing , celebrities, hawaii, honolulu, linkage, oahu, omgwtfbbq, pimpage, red carpet situations

To Do: Jared Leto, Wanderlust, Gwen Stefani, “Inland Empire,” Etc.

“…and V.I.P. Tiki Lounge Tickets to the May 13th performance of 30 Seconds To Mars are available for purchase beginning today…”

The Red Bull was suddenly filled with the hysterical screeching of two fabulous homosexuals. Bartholomew and I clutched each other’s arms tightly, nearly running off of the H-2 freeway, and exclaimed in unison, “OMGWTFBBQ!”

To say that both Bartholomew and I harbor “mild” obsessions with Jared Leto and, of course, his band 30 Seconds To Mars, would be a drastic understatement, so the fact that we had so randomly and so timely been informed via radio disc jockey that V.I.P. tickets to the band’s Honolulu Pipeline Cafe performance had just gone on sale that morning was simply stunning in its perfection.

We purchased two V.I.P. Tiki Lounge tickets online immediately upon returning to Bartholomew’s old apartment.

(Um. And also purchased two regular tickets for their May 11th performance later that week.)

Obviously, many, many new outfits must be scouted for these two concerts.

Before then, however, is ARTafterDARK’s April event, “Wanderlust,” this Friday, April 27. Occurring at the Honolulu Academy of Art from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m., it will feature libations by Tiki’s Grill & Bar, jazz performances by the Chris Yeh Quartet, and zip-tours of the Albrecht Durer Woodcut Exhibition. (But of course I am most excited about the printmaking opportunity.)

Finally, plans are still in the works to acquire premium tickets (and hopefully backstage passes) for Gwen Stefani’s Honolulu performances at the end of August.

(I saw her perform in Honolulu several years ago with No Doubt, outside, at University of Hawaii’s Amphitheatre. During her performance of “Just A Girl,” the sky began to pour rain as she scaled the scaffolding on one side of the stage. She then altered the lyrics thusly: “Oh I’m just a girl in the rain…in Honolulu…”)

Of course, I will not be passing up the chance to see her perform here again.

It’s almost mind-blowing to imagine that these are only the three first scheduled events of what promises to be a very busy late spring and summer for one Atherton Bartelby, in Honolulu, Hawaii.

Edited To Add One Final “OMGWTFBBQ!” Moment: My new BFF, SuperCW, e-mailed me this morning to offer me a ticket to the Hawaii International Film Festival’s screening of David Lynch’s new “Inland Empire” this evening at Dole Cannery. Immediately, I telephoned Bartholomew to see if he could find an additional ticket and, mercifully, he was able to score one. So that is where my fabulous ass will be this evening. Thank you, my dear! I totally heart you!

Filed under: Art, Film, Music , a-list, celebrities, hawaii, honolulu, linkage, memories, oahu, omgwtfbbq, red carpet situations

The Fine Line

“So how are you?” my friend Remington inquired of me over two Maker’s Mark Manhattans with lots of cherries, while a light breeze blew in over the water of Honolulu Harbor.

I lit a cigarette.

Exhaled.

“I am way wicked awesome,” I smiled wryly, the old Beantown compound adjective having returned to my vernacular.

“That is fabulous!” he replied, popping a maraschino into his mouth. “I just bought a new apartment and I am still with The Florida Boy. What is new with you?”

“Oh dear,” I said, furrowing my brow. “We have not talked in forever, have we? So you still do not know about The Bartholomew Situation?”

“What.” Remington arched an eyebrow over the rim of his cocktail glass.

“Yes,” I confirmed, ashing my cigarette. “He e-mailed me on April Fool’s Day to apologize and ask to be friends again.”

I smiled confidently.

“And you hung up on him, right?” Remington countered.

“No, darling, I just told you it was via e-mail. No hanging up was required.”

“Well? What did you say?” he asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

I smiled again and exhaled smoke while responding, “The last line of his e-mail invited me to lunch. So I called him and asked him what time he was picking me up.”

“Atherton! What the fuck?!” Remington exclaimed.

“‘What the fuck’ what?” I replied. “Bartholomew is my best friend. I love him. He cannot not be in my life.”

Remington sighed dramatically. “So have you fucked yet?” he asked.

I gave him a wry smile. “No,” I said.

“Oh, Atherton.”

“‘Oh, Atherton’ what?” I replied, genuinely confused. “We are not about that. I mean, sure, it would be nice, but we just are not about that.”

Remington shook his head sadly. Took another pull from his Manhattan. “This is not good, Atherton.”

Later that evening, after Bartholomew dropped me off at my apartment following a lovely evening of DVDs and cocktails, I sipped from a bowl of tomato and basil bisque soup on my lanai and reflected on Remington’s words and reactions to the renewed Bartholomew developments.

And I quite frankly could not understand them.

While on one hand it feels good and comforting to be able to boast old college friends who know you like the back of their own hands and care about your well-being, not wanting you to get hurt (again), on the other hand, just sometimes, that caring about your well-being can feel a little off-putting, a little suffocating, a little…judgmental.

I finished my soup, poured myself a glass of Cabernet, and speed-dialed my little sister Edie.

“What do you think about this?” I inquired of her, only slightly hysterically, and related to her my conversation with Remington of earlier that afternoon.

“Why do people do this?” she replied, gasping in disbelief. “I know they care and want to help but they can’t tell someone what to do. That doesn’t lead to healthy development. Even if Bartholomew is scum and you have a fruitless relationship for a decade – God forbid! – and then he leaves you for someone else whom he was banging all along, they shouldn’t be like, ‘Oh, well, what a surprise!’”

I sighed. Took a drag from my Marlboro Light. “True. True.”

“They should be supportive,” Edie concluded. “And not silent.”

She paused.

“Even when they think it’s wrong.”

I paced, barefoot, throughout my dimly-lit apartment, the midnight breezes tearing down the dormant crater outside and through the doors and windows, and pondered…everything. Although I do not think that, this time around, with Bartholomew, I am approaching the friendship with anything but love and affection, with no expectations for something “more” to happen, sure, I may be making a mistake.

Again.

But I kind of do not think so.

And even if I am, mistakes are how we learn.

Even if it takes making those same mistakes over and over again.

So while it feels nice to know that your closest friends are looking out for you, it’s also nice to know that they will step back, when necessary, and not judge you, and allow you to make those same mistakes over and over again…if the making of them will help you grow.

It’s the fine line of friendship: knowing when to allow you to make those same mistakes.

Filed under: Relationships , a-list, defining moments, emotional landscapes, ghost town, needful reminders, questions