The most delicious lunch

As many of you (whomever is actually reading this), I don't work every other Friday. What I do on those Fridays is sleep late and have a nice leisurely lunch, just as in my glory (unemployed) days of yore. This Friday I was treated to lunch by one of my more successful friends at Michaels on 55th. This is the kind of restaurant that you know is expensive when you walk in. Six waiters were just standing there when we walked in. The art on the walls is original, and Jasper Johns, not the owners wayward daughter. All I said was "I want to stop eating because I don't want to run out of this." It was some of the best fish (Oregon black cod) that I'd ever had, for lunch or for dinner, in NYC or anywhere. On the plus side it is a very NY scene in the best sense of the word. The owner comes around and talks to every table, many of the diners he knows, not only because they are well known in the world, but because they are regulars. So, if you have $70 (no drinks) to blow on lunch, Michaels is the spot I would recommend.

P.S. everyone was unfailingly polite despite the fact that we were the only people not wearing suits and not discussing whether the best way to get to Europe was by private jet or Air France first class.

Crimes, Cars, and the Cinema

While I was doing laundry I walked up to my local neighborhood sushi place, which to be clear is not a sushi restaurant. It is basically a doorway where they exchange cash (and cash only) for delicious shumai. When I say delicious, I really mean close. When I ordered the salmon samurai (#52), the shrimp shumai, and a Coke, the man at the counter replied "Everything with an "S" today?" I replied, "Well, except the Coke (which incidentally they forgot)." I then said, "Well it is Sunday," that was probably more friendly. People often say I come across as aggressive with salespeople, particularly those who take down orders for food.

Anyway, in today's title everything starts with a "c." I should first mention that this problem occurred to me about 3 hours into a 6 hour movie.

Unshowered and unfed, I had scrambled down to Lincoln Center to see the first of four movies at the NY Film Festival, "Carlos." When I took my seat in row Z, the lady in the next seat turns and says, "do you think they will have a break?" Frankly, this caught me by surprise, "Do they usually have breaks during the movies here?," I replied. "Well it is 6 hours," she said. Zing!

So, three hours into what was an excellent movie, I noticed how much time was spent loading trunks (with bombs), parking cars (in front of leftist Arab newspapers), and just generally getting in and out of cars. Frankly, if the director had simply accepted that we understood how people got places in the Sixties a good 45 minutes could have been shaved off. I suspect this is generally the case with modern crime movies. Loading cars provides an opportunity for foreshadowing (bombs=future explosions) and an enclosed space that forces conversation between two characters, space in which they cannot throw things at each other, or shoot at each other.

Rants: Cash only sushi places
Six-hour long movies

Raves: Carlos