super duper swamped and stressed. currently at the big, bad mother of museums conferences, the american association of museum’s annual meeting and museum expo in denver. it’s hella exhausting!!! i feel like a high schooler, rushing from session to session between periods, overwhelmed by all the offerings, needing to prioritize them, all the while with anxiety about a serious work project gnawing away at any remaining shreds of my peace of mind. this is my first work/”business” travel experience!

quick observations of downtown denver: the altitude will eff you up and dehydrate the heck outta you. i need lotion, chapstick, and water every five seconds, and i’ve been prone to sinus headaches throughout the day. i woke up this morning feeling like i’ve been socked in the eye; erratic weather; rowdy youth of the slipknot/insane clown posse/mudvayne variety; paucity of compelling restaurants; i sense a meth use problem; and it goes without saying, very little “people of color.”

(this was animatronic)

conference attendee pride. i couldn’t have asked for better colleagues/friends to be part of my first time

one day, i will master the art of blogging brevity. but until then, i don’t care if i’m 85 and on my goddang death bed sportin’ a colostomy bag. i WILL finish this bloody travelogue. oh yes…i will…(a la wayne).

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wake up later than desired; i bitchily rush christina so we can make it out the door. we’ve got a big day ahead of us!

breakfast. here’s sister looking fierce in cafe sabarsky, a polished viennese cafe that exudes old-world charm (glossy wood paneling, waiters in black vests). it belongs to the neu gallerie (german and austrian art). when we leave there’s a line of folks waiting to get into the klimt exhibition

impeccable apple strudel. tastes authentic, not that i know what an “authentic” apple strudel should be like, but probably akin to this. we also order a bowl of goulash, which isn’t anything like its hungarian counterpart. we savor it until chris realizes that the guys across the way are straight up laughing at us for sloppily slurping from the same bowl like wolves. we remain calm, reminding ourselves that we are the true civilized ones. it takes a lot of self-control to prevent christina from basically bitch slapping the dudes.

after that bitter experience, we walk down museum mile to the guggenheim for the critically acclaimed cai guo-qiang show. making it to this installation was a top priority on this trip

there’s a no-photo policy, but i can’t help myself. you wouldn’t believe how crowded it is. the staggering amount of people may ruin lesser shows, but because this one is so good, the jostling isn’t too terrible

so out of this world

aaaaaand they’re OFF!

but they smash into an invisible barrier that’s symbolic of the berlin wall

all life-sized wolves made out of paper mache, fake fur, and other materials

cai guo-qiang — a contemporary chinese artist who is known for his “explosive” art employing dynamite, fireworks, and gunpowder — really just “blows” my mind. this show is the apotheosis of a successful art exhibition. it’s engaging and dynamic, larger than life; a true spectacle on all accounts. but it’s not just dazzling eye candy: there’s a lot of depth and philosophy at work. it’s an experience that wraps up all your senses into a mindbending blankie. bravo to him, and the guggenheim, for presenting one of the most exciting visual arts experiences i’ve had in a long, long time

this makes me feel like a pedo

no NYC trip is complete w/o an excursion to the union square green market. we breeze on through, perhaps as a result of being spoiled bay area farmers market patrons

after buying some kicks on sale at shoe mania, we stumble upon max brenner, a big ol’ chocolate restaurant. it’s like…if willy wonka made a restaurant in the late 90s. there’s a strange, ambiguous fusion of fantasy gaudy (spray painted butterflies on chocolate pipes that criss cross the ceiling) and worldly style (bowls of different cocoa powder lining a ledge)

gross, but i’d be lying if i said i wasn’t somewhat intrigued and willing

i don’t think so

of course we get something! here’s christina with their fancy version of an oreo shake

liquid milk chocolate. literally, that’s what it tastes and feels like. i still think about this deathly concoction. i’ve yet to find something quite like this in the yay area

oh man, what luck! first we come across max brenner, and now, forbidden planet! a mecca for all nerds. it’s almost like coming come. i’m pretty stoked

this sneaky shot fails in doing the mammoth store any justice

more or less one of the coolest, funniest things ever

18 miles of books. easy to get lost here. the art section alone would require a good two hours. atypical of landmarks, this one actually has smart, stylish souvenirs / branded merch, like cute totes

one cup to rule them all. unfortunately, we are too bloated on thick industrial strength chocolate to try it

we powerwalk through greenwich, catch a glimpse of NYU, make a few stops, then end up in the east village for some vintage shop scouring. everything’s too expensive. i dig this boutique, but the prices remind me that it’s not meant to be. we break for a snack at this quaint little charmer, bruschetteria. not a bad concept. tasty too!

we crash at cynthia’s pad, admire the playboy covers wall that her roommates put up, and collectively nap. then, we head to dinner at the immensely popular lil’ frankies. being amongst the vibrant night lifers on the bustling streets, and seeing every single restaurant in the neighborhood packed, leads me to conclude that there really is a different lifestyle in NYC. people eat out. a lot. and they don’t get started til much later

sure, at this point we’ve eaten enough to energize a third world country, but why stop? stephen recommended chikalicious, a dessert bar, but alas, we are too late. disappointment is quelled with a consolation prize: we can enjoy its smaller, humbler sister, puddin, across the street, for some namesake sweets.

try a little tenderness

on the way back to the metro via st. mark’s place, we discover that this gnarly vintage shop, search & destroy, is still open. yes! i love late-night shopping. it’s run by some handsome japanese punks. i spy some great goods, including a special coat that doesn’t fit my frame. stupid big frame. i try to distract myself from the pain by trying on some awesome (but creepy) full-face beanies (hot and scratchy). there are a bunch of designs, including scuber diver and ninja face ones

my mom reminded me that today marks my grandpa’s birthday. i felt bad for not remembering.

here’s the snappy dresser in one of my favorite shirts of his. i’m confident i inherited some of my thrift shop / garage sale sensibilities from him. how badass is that western top? check the quality embroidery!

i’m not just saying this cuz he was my grandpa and i’m editorializing with affection, but this guy was a real character. he’d have no reservations with busting out in song and dance anytime, anywhere. a dapper chap, he was also a hit with the ladies at the senior center. he partook in a healthy regimen of karaoke, ballroom dancing, and chinese herbal medicine. charismatic, a bit idiosyncratic, and not necessarily “traditional.” legend has it that he was the one who chaperoned the toddler me on a trip from georgia to california. a few years ago i finally visited my birth place and saw the former site of his first job in the states: some greasy spoon restaurant, where he washed dishes. a middle-aged chinese guy from taiwan doing a menial job…in the south…and we’re not talkin’ in a city like atlanta either. you gotta wonder what that was like.

every year around this time we would gather to celebrate his bday. sometimes it was a bit of an annoyance to make the trek to the south bay, to have an encroachment on my personal free time. i’m not proud for acknowledging any of this awfulness, but it’s all sad and true. i can be a shamelessly selfish person.

true to human nature, i now wish i could commemorate gramps’ birth with him in full-blown, festive glory. we’d go aaaaaaall out. thinking about it now, i realize how fun it would be, and that’s the depressing part. i assure you, there’d be more revelry and cheer than what is expressed in the pathetic dour mug below.

so THAT’S where they got it! this logo always struck me as, at best, smart and catchy, and at worst, mediocre. it’s always so inspirational to know how designers come up with their creations.

via poplicks

ain’t nothin’ like being greeted by a headless pigeon as you enter a park.

this carnage was found on the top of the steps of alamo square park, corner of steiner and fulton. a bit startling and suspicious. any non-human predator responsible for this wouldn’t have just…left the thing in such obvious, plain sight…right? seems a bit weird. but nature has its moments too.

you know how cats and dogs often bring home vermin corpses as gifts to their masters? maybe the culprit did this as like, an offering to the quaint neighborhood? oh well.

or maybe that’s the exact spot where the incident occurred. maybe a dog pounced right there and then, before its mortified owner snapped it out of its natural, frenzied prey-driven state.

certain chinese, when provoked and offended…they will not pu$$yfoot around their feelings.

for example, this taxi driver in qingdao (hey, i was there!):

i think we’re looking at some of the fallout from the impassioned olympic torch protests in paris, london, SF, and in general, the west’s regard of china as a perilous, amoral monolith. qingdao folks are boycotting carrefour, a french hypermarket with stores all over china. french flags have been burned in the process. that’s serious business. i wonder if this endeavor is strictly regional, and if so, whether it will trickle to other provinces.

there is context to this taxi sign, so please click here. more here and here.

one chinese netizen’s artistic take on sino-U.S. relations:

via sfist/shanghaiist

given the current all-eyes-on-china affairs, is this aggressive and nationalistic, subversive and inflammatory, or good ol’ fashioned fun? or all of the above? this piece is begging to be captioned. c’mon guys, it’s captioning time! i know you all can come up with some witty, naughty nuggets.

ps – notice how liberty’s nipple is grazing the warrior’s breast plate ever so gingerly. oooh la la!

much to my fortuitous delight, there’s been a recent surge in the appearance of oxtail — a somewhat obscure ingredient that seldom makes cameos — on restaurant menus. anyone who’s suffered my friendship will tell you that oxtail is feverishly exciting for me. it embodies all the wonderful qualities of shortrib, amplified by 1,000. i can only thank my uber-talented chef grandma for introducing it to me in the form of oxtail stew when i was a wee lass. it’s still a true favorite, but sadly, she hasn’t made it in a long, long time.

i wish i could’ve taken photos of all the dishes i’ve had in the past few months showcasing this underrated meat (that’s what she said), but i was too dumbstruck with joy that i didn’t think to bust out my camera (hard to imagine, i know).

on a business lunch at bar jules a while ago, ami and i had a most memorable oxtail dish (with purple baby carrots). soooooo good. haunted by the memories of this special meal, we went back last friday, aware of their tendency to recycle the same ingredients in different reincarnations. this time we had oxtail with scrambled eggs and wild arugula, preceded by an embracing celery soup with sour cream.

to me, scrambled eggs should almost taste — and resemble — pillowy coddled, poached eggs. soft and moist, and a teeny bit yolky

i could’ve spent the rest of the afternoon staring at this, with a pen in hand for doodling. it’s a relaxing scene

remember that sick creature i alluded to in my NYC #2 post?

here you can see actual babies popping out of the deep pits in their mom’s back. what’s interesting is that they’re exact miniature versions of her. it’s riveting, but oh-so-deeesgusting, reminiscent of the “honeycomb breast.” and no you definitely should not google image that term. and if you do, don’t blame me for your lifelong post-traumatic stress disorder.

wonder what it feels like for the surinam toad (aka pipa pipa, aka star-fingered frog) baby mama?

ps – here she is as pack mule for her entire stash of eggs. EEEEEEW! double gross! ugh. what is it about seeing a slimy cluster of eggs that makes my skin crawl?

my very first job was at agnews developmental center, so watching this audio slideshow overwhelmed me with nostalgia and sadness. it summoned memories that must’ve been filed away in dusty, forgotten boxes buried deep in the recesses of my consciousness.

please click here to watch

upon my mom’s suggestion, i applied to be a recreational activities youth assistant — it was a summertime position. i was 15, and had just finished my first year of high school. for the entirety of that summer, i carpooled to and from work with my mom, who would occasionally let me practice my driving during those commutes. we spent a lot of time together. hard to imagine what that was like.

as unappealing as a 8-5 job might be, especially to an adolescent, those were halcyon — albeit challenging — days that gave me powerful, poignant memories. i was part of a group of teens who tagged along with the rec leader, ladonna. her priority was just to make sure that the clients were being properly entertained, that the engagement / activities elements of their quality of life were being met. collectively we served as her helpers in achieving this ongoing goal.

mostly though, i think they just wanted to bring some kids around to liven up the place (it was kinda depressing and dreary) and to hang out with the clients.

i remember sweltering hot days, greasy fried meals and junk food from the canteen, making friends with other teenagers (we were a diverse, rowdy bunch), setting up huge unruly tents on campus for festivals, packing the van and buses with picnic and art supplies, general heavy lifting and healthy labor, riding in these vehicles along with the clients to parks, landmarks, destinations all over the bay area, watergun / balloon wars, witnessing serious seizures and temper tantrums, and most of all, just being with the clients. eating with them, playing with them, making arts and crafts with them, helping them.

they were characters from all walks of life. down syndrome, brain and spinal injuries, birth defects, autism, severe illnesses…the whole range of mental and physical impairment was well represented. i had a few favorites — some were real softies and charmers, some were eccentric, and others were moody loners. but i wondered about every single one of them. about their families, how often they had visitors, what had happened to them, or if they “born this way,” what lives they would lead if they didn’t have to be at agnews.

every day bore a heartbreaking revelation. sometimes you’d see parents visiting their children, as young as primary school kiddies and as old as middle aged. i dunno, and sometimes you’d sense this undeniable bond with a client, or this gutwrenching larger-than-life vibe by staring into one’s eyes. i know it sounds hokey, but i swear it’s true. i bet my mom knows sandra — the woman in the video. sandra is even familiar to me. i realize that this was an intense, serious gig, but we acclimated very quickly to the presence of children-in-adult bodies wearing helmuts, people who have spent their entire lives in wheelchairs, those who ingested food through tubes in their throats, and frankly, the handful of scary, brooding characters too.

i also met some incredibly inspiring people there on staff. i distinctly remember one time, we were on an outing and getting ready to have lunch. we always packed our own, but the clients had strictly regulated meals, and believe me, they did NOT look appetizing. think state-provided food: pudding cups with generic packaging and sandwiches that looked suspiciously plain. tom, the rec leader always with the guitar, grabbed one of these brown bags and totally dug in. he said, “if it’s good enough for them it’s good enough for me.”

okay, so maybe that’s a bad example, but still. you should’ve seen the way this guy interacted with the clients. it was on an incomprehensible level. straight up soulful and compassionate.

i shared some tender heart-swelling, tear-inducing moments with the clients, and classic wholesome, fun, coming-of-age summertime moments with my coworkers.

ANYWAY, agnews has a fascinating, eerie history. it started out in 1885 as an insane asylum (“the great asylum for the insane”) and evolved into a care, treatment, and residential center for the mentally and physically disabled. it has been threatened with closure for as long as i can remember. growing up, its impending demise was always regarded in my household with an “any day now” attitude. over the years campuses have closed down and operations have dwindled smaller and smaller.

it will finally be shut down this june. a former short-term employer of mine, and a long-term employer of my mother (who recently retired after 18 years of service).

man, i wish i could dig up the photos from that summer.