Hongkie Town

Sometimes the answer is right in front of my face but I keep missing it. Then suddenly I see it and slap myself upside the head and say "fool!"

I realized this week that the only thing that was still really bothering me was my back. The pain was constant. Couldn't find a comfortable position for sitting or sleeping. Couldn't sleep more than two hours at a time even with sleeping pills. I realized that unless this got dealt with, I would never get back to "me."

I kept asking my doctor for stronger pain killers. He kept upping the ante, finally something with a bit of codeine in it, but wouldn't agree to morphine. He said if it kept up, next week he'd send me for an x-ray. The massage I got on Monday helped for a day. Hot baths were giving temporary relief. Those heat patches they sell at Watson's did practically nothing. I knew I couldn't make it till next week.

And then Thursday night it hit me. I used to go see a chiropractor regularly when I lived in San Francisco and that guy worked miracles for me. I had to find one here. I found the HK Chiropractors' Association web site and looked at the full list of practitioners. Some had web sites so I clicked on those links.

A lot of the people listed were working in Central, in buildings where I knew their monthly rents were probably more than the gross national economy of Guatemala. And I knew that would figure in their fees.

Finally found one, Causeway Bay. Educated in California, board certified in the US. Waited till start of office hours on Friday morning, called and was able to get an appointment that afternoon.

Did a couple of hours in the office, got some lunch, then over to his office. After questioning me closely and doing a quick physical exam, he sent me two blocks away for x-rays. This place (in East Point Centre, above Sogo) was able to take me right away and got the pictures done within 15 minutes. Back to the chiropractor's office. He looked at the x-rays and then pulled out a pencil and started drawing on them, explaining to me as he went. Then he got out a little model of a spine and started twisting bits and pieces to show what was going on with mine. Very thorough and complete explanation and it was basically the same thing that the San Francisco chiropractor had told me 10 years ago. And that this was coming back to haunt me now after more than 4 weeks of laying in bed, slumping in chairs ... basically I'd done this to myself.

So he gave me an adjustment and I started to feel a little better right away. Then he told me to get a heating pad. I told him I had those patches and he kind of made a face but said I could try those. "Honestly," I asked him, "would a heating pad be that much better than the patches?" Yes, no doubt.

I told him I didn't feel strong enough to deal with going through Sogo and he said he thought Watsons or Mannings might sell them. That was his only mistake of the day. I went to a nearby large Watsons and they only sell those chemical patches and hot water bottles. I had to go pick up something at Rock Gallery and remembered an "ergonomics" shop on the top floor of that mall, but they only sold chairs and pillows.

It was getting close to 7 PM, time to pick up my girlfriend and head home, but I wasn't going to head home without a heating pad. But where to go? Then I remembered a medical supply store on the far western end of Johnston Road. Zoomed over there, praying they don't close early, they're still open. "Do you have heating pads?" "So many! What kind do you want?" Got an electric one, medium size. I have a feeling the price they charged was double what this would cost in the US but I wasn't going to quibble. And while I was there, got a back support cushion for my desk chair at home.

So, ten minutes every hour with the heating pad. And taking that cushion with me for wherever I'm sitting. And the result is that today is the first day in weeks that I've had no back pain without the use of drugs. Maybe, dare I say it, I can sleep tonight?

One visit to the chiropractor + 1 heating pad and that's it? Can it really be so simple? And I completely didn't think about this for a week, 2 weeks?

So, I'm not 100% yet. Still need rest, the right food, etc. But this is the first time in a week that I feel I've made some progress against all this.

So ... have a great weekend y'all. I ain't pushing my luck, staying home and continuing to rest and take care of my back.

Last week we watched Taken. Co-written and produced by French (but I think he wishes he was American) auteur Luc Besson, starring Liam Neeson, this film was number one at the US box office earlier this year, thanks to an effective trailer and lack of competition when it was released. Neeson is ex-CIA. His daughter travels to Paris and within hours of arrival is kidnapped to be sold into the white sex slave trade. Neeson, once an actual actor, becomes a one man demolition squad, taking apart all of Paris in his quest to get his daughter back. It's the kind of fantasy in which one man with a gun goes up against 10 men and kills them all without receiving so much as a scratch in return. But as grade B action films go, it's effective and entertaining and at 91 minutes, it gets where it's going quickly enough. Taken scored all of 40% with "top critics" at Rotten Tomatoes.

Tonight, without thinking about the connection, we watched Spartan. (Actually it was because earlier today we watched Untouchables and I was still in a Mamet mood.) This 2004 film starring Val Kilmer, William H. Macy and Ed O'Neill was written and directed by David Mamet. With a production budget of $20 million, it grossed all of $2 million in the US. It's difficult to talk about the plot without giving away the myriad twists and turns and surprises, but it's probably safe to tell you that the President's daughter is kidnapped and sold into the sex trade. Or did she die in a boating accident off Martha's Vineyard? The film is brutal, cynical, blunt. It's very much of a piece with Mamet's other "con" films including House of Games, Spanish Prisoner, Heist and Redbelt.

As a writer, Mamet has given us Glengarry Glen Ross, Postman Always Rings Twice, Wag the Dog, Ronin, Untouchables (among others).

Spartan scored just 53% with top critics at Rotten Tomatoes, though the NY Times said that it "is a vigorous and engrossing genre exercise that manages the difficult trick of being both logically meticulous and genuinely surprising."

And it holds up to repeated viewings, too. You might consider renting it one day if you're in the mood for something different.

Untouchables - Brian De Palma directing. Mamet screenplay. Kevin Costner, Sean Connery, Robert De Niro starring. Ennio Morricone score. Costumes by Giorgio Armani! And who else but De Palma would have the balls to steal the Odessa Steps sequence from Battleship Potemkin? I love Vincent Canby's review in the NY Times when it first opened - "of such entertaining order that it almost redeems Hollywood's current reputation for idiotic profligacy and total irrelevance." What would Canby have thought of Taken? Easy enough to guess.

Here's my current situation .... as most of you know, I'm living in a village house in a small mountain town just outside of Sai Kung town. 2100 square feet plus a patio, two balconies, rooftop and a 700 square foot garden. The village is peaceful and quiet. I have a million dollar view. And plenty of room for my girlfriend, my helper, my two large-ish dogs and all my stuff. I love this house. My lease runs until March of next year and at the landlord's request does NOT contain the standard two month break-lease clause, though of course there are probably ways around that.

My future .... as of November 1, I will be out of work. I will be getting approximately 1 year's salary as severance pay. I do not collect the package if I leave before November 1st. I don't know yet if at that point I will look to get another job along the same lines as what I've been doing for the past 23 years and, if I do, will I find something within two months, six months, never. Or, I could up the level of risk by attempting to start my own business.

Of course, one of the things I'm thinking about is economizing. What I can cut out of my life and reduce my monthly overhead. One thing of course is rent.

I've been looking at ads and seeing that, thanks to a down economy, I could get 2 floors (1400 square feet) in a village house for approximately half the rent I'm paying now. Going that route, I'd need to come up with two months' rent for security deposit, 1/2 months' rent for the realtor, and probably spend somewhere around $10k on the move. All my stuff won't fit into 1400 square feet - I'd have to consider a combination of selling, donating and storing a large part of it. And that's optimistically hoping that my landlord would go along with letting me out of the lease early - calling her "kookie" would be putting it mildly, calling her unbalanced might not be an overstatement, and I've got no idea how she'd react to this.

So on the one hand, it would kill me to get rid of stuff and move out of a house I love and then get lucky and find another job at the same income level within a matter of months. On the other hand, it would kill me to be paying out the rent in this house month after month and watch my savings dwindle as a fruitless job search continues.

So, hope for the best or expect the worst? Should I stay or should I go?

OR .... wait till November gets closer so I can judge the state of the economy and make a more informed decision?

Now that I'm in recovery mode, I have to be more careful about what I eat. I do have this tendency to be good for a few weeks and then fall back into old habits, but this time I've got some help and support and maybe I'll do better.

I missed this post at Huffington Post - 33 of the Healthiest Foods on Earth - but found it eventually via Lifehacker.

Did you know that blueberries help prevent urinary tract infection? That red bell peppers can help prevent sunburn as well as reducing the risk of several types of cancer? Kiwis (the fruit, not people from NZ) lowers the risk of blood clots? Papaya reduces the risk of lung cancer and enhances fat burning?

Yeah, you probably all knew it, I'm probably the last one to find out. But right now, sitting in front of the computer, instead of a box of Chips Ahoy sitting within easy reach, I've got a plate of blueberries that I've just about devoured.

My dad swore by vitamin pills. He had a whole shelf full of books on the subject and took what seemed like dozens of pills every morning. Now scientists are starting to find that if you extract the vitamins from food and serve them in pill form, it may not do all that much good, that it's not just the vitamins themselves but the natural interaction with other substances in the fruits and vegetables that help bring about the goodness.

And one thing I love about Hong Kong is the wide variety of fruits and vegetables available here and how cheap most of them are. When I was growing up, I never ate a fresh vegetable; everything my mother cooked came out of a can or a freezer bag. When you're 5 years old and the only meals you eat are cooked by your mom, of course she's the best cook on earth. In my case, my mother's cooking was so bad that as soon as my father retired, he kicked her out of the kitchen and took over all the family cooking. And now I know that it takes the same amount of time and effort to prepare a fresh vegetable as it does to open a can and put that washed out shit into a pot and heat it up.

I learned long ago that in Hong Kong, you don't buy your fresh produce from Park 'n Slop or Hellcome. Their produce sections are the saddest things on earth. Or what? Go to City Super and buy those imported individually wrapped grapes for a thousand dollars a bunch? No, you go to the local wet market and the family in that little 10 foot stall lives and dies on the quality of the produce they're selling - and the price is cheaper too. Sai Kung has the added benefit of several independent produce shops - no signs over the doors, a metal gate that rolls down at night, but during the day, boxes of beautiful fresh stuff priced right.

So I'm learning and I'm trying.

So ... I know I'm not 100% yet. I can still feel my liver bulging through my skin. My right ankle and foot remain somewhat swollen. But if I didn't get out of the house, I knew I was about to turn violent. Sorry if this has turned into the "Spike is sick" blog but I'm working on getting better, believe me!

So over to the office. People stopped by and stood in the doorway, some almost afraid to talk to me, wondering if I was alive. Lunch time, I didn't feel strong enough to walk anywhere. Unfortunately the closest place to the office is DeliFrance, a place that I almost religiously avoid. I picked something almost at random from the brightly colored poster on the wall, "gammon ham with cheese on a croissant." This is "Always French! Always Fresh!" apparently. One slice of ham. One slice of American cheese. One slice of tomato. A bit of wilted lettuce. No mustard, mayo, nothing. $39 bucks! People like this stuff?

Since I'd been working from home all last week, I just needed a couple of hours to sign and approve everything stacked up and sort of clear out my inbox, filing away about a hundred messages I'd already read and responded to. That was all I could take for one day.

Since my back and leg have been killing me, I thought I'd mark my first day out with a massage and fortunately, Lina over at Cherdchai was available. This woman is the goddess of Thai massage. I don't think she's an inch over 5 feet tall and can't possibly weigh more than 100 pounds, yet she can hoist my legs in the air over her head and twist my back and crack my spine like no one else. I pointed at the places that hurt and she dived right in and went to work. I think I've been seeing her for three years now. "What happened to you?" she asked? What did she mean? "Usually your body is very strong, but today it's like a different person." That's what a month of lying in bed will do to you. I tried to explain about my liver problem and when she ran her hand across my stomach and felt my swollen liver, she had a look of shock and surprise on her face. Yeah, I'm sick.

After that, just to make me feel a little better and look slightly more human, a long overdue haircut. And then picked up some take-away and slowly made my way home.

Tonight, so far at least, my back's not hurting.

Today's listening was the Eric Clapton & Steve Winwood double live CD from last year's 3 night stand at Madison Square Garden. I didn't expect anything revelatory from it, just something nice and comfortable. The song selection is a bit odd in spots (I really don't need to hear Winwood sing "Georgia on My Mind") but I gotta say that this set features some of the finest guitar playing that Clapton has released in years. Listen to him on "Double Trouble" and it'll take you right back to the "Clapton is God" days. Well, it did for me anyway.

People who care about this sort of thing are expressing surprise and shock that Kris Allen and not Adam Lambert won American Idol. I wish I could have placed a bet on the outcome, I would have put whatever I could scrounge up on Allen.

Last week, when Gokey was eliminated, they announced that out of 65 million votes cast, Allen and Lambert were less than a million votes apart. It seemed pretty clear that whomever managed to attract the Gokey vote would win.

And here's the thing. Lambert is from California, his background is in touring companies of Broadway shows. While he's been coy about his sexuality, he projects an androgynous image, especially in terms of the heavy make-up he constantly wears.

Allen is middle America, squeaky clean, married. And he's done international missionary work for his church. Gokey is a church musical director. Clearly the majority of his supporters were going to fall in behind Allen.

It really doesn't matter. Over the previous 7 seasons, only two winners seem to have gone on to lasting musical careers. And some of the biggest successes have come from contestants who didn't win - does the name Jennifer Hudson ring a bell? Chris Daughtry?

So they're both gonna have a further shot. They'll both get to do records. How long either of them will stick around, will be remembered 5 years from now, that's an open question.

Speaking of a star-studded show, if you didn't watch the finale, the guests included Queen, Rod Stewart, KISS, Cyndi Lauper, Steve Martin, Black Eyed Peas, Jason Mraz, Queen Latifah, Keith Urban, Lionel Richie, Carlos Santana. Of course all of them (except, oddly, Stewart) appeared in duets with contestants. But the show moved along at a pretty zippy pace and had the veritable "something for everyone."

I suspect that when all is said and done, the American Idol finale will be the highest rated regular series broadcast of the year and, if nothing else, nice that the highest rated show was a music show.

In U.S. news today .... four people arrested in a domestic terrorism plot. These subhumans planned to bomb two synagogues in The Bronx and then shoot down military planes from outside an Air National Guard base in Newburgh, New York.

Last night they were arrested after parking cars which they thought were filled with bombs outside of two Jewish temples - the Riverdale Temple and the Riverdale Jewish Center. However, the group had been infiltrated by the FBI a year ago and the bombs in the cars were fake.

The four men arrested are all Muslims and at least 3 of the 4 are U.S. citizens. One of them, of Afghan descent, told police that he was upset about the war in Afghanistan and wanted to do something against America and that the "best target was already hit," meaning of course the World Trade Center.

This hits me on a personal level because my first wedding was at the Riverdale Temple; I know the place well.

Results of the latest blood tests are in and while the numbers aren't in the normal range yet, they are headed there. The doctor also ran some function tests on my prostate - because I'm peeing every hour - and those thank goodness are within what is considered normal. With my appetite back to normal, I'm feeling stronger and more alert every day.

On the other hand, I can't get a decent amount of sleep. In part, that's from waking up every hour to pee. But also continued lower back pain makes it almost impossible for me to find a comfortable position for sleeping - I've tried every different position, combinations of pillows, towels, propping up this, boosting that - and different pain killers and at most I'm getting three hours of sleep at a stretch, which of course is taking its toll. Add to that the fact that both of my feet and ankles have swelled up (more noticeably the right one), a side effect of hepatitis my doctor informs me. Doesn't hurt so much but looks awful.

This is now my 4th week of being sick. I'm sick of being sick, pardon the triteness of that. The only benefit is that my gf has been going all out on the cooking. Two nights ago a wonderful chicken soup with pasta and veggies (soup stock made from scratch) and last night an amazingly tasty Filipino-style beef stew. Can't wait to see what she's cooking up tonight.

=================================

I loved all the comments I got from my previous pizza post. Amazing that so many people here feel so passionate about pizza and that there is so little here to satisfy that craving.



Coincidentally, GQ's new issue has a feature article by food critic Alan Richman on the 25 best pizzas in the US. (All of the above images come from that article.)

I think non-Americans might take issue with his opening statement:

Italians are wrong. Not about cars or suits. About pizza, and they’re not entirely mistaken about that, only about crusts and buffalo-milk mozzarella. They’ve got the tomato part right. Pizza was created by the Italians—or maybe by the Greeks, who brought it to Naples, but let’s not pile on the bad news. Right now it justly belongs to us. We care more about it. We eat more of it, and unlike the Italians, we appreciate it at dinner, at lunch, and at breakfast, when we have it cold, standing up, to make hangovers go away. Italians don’t really understand pizza. They think of it as knife-and-fork food, best after the sun goes down.

Pizza isn’t as fundamental to Italy as it is to America. Over there, it plays a secondary role to pasta, risotto, and polenta. To be candid, I think they could do without it. Not us. Over here, it’s one of the few foreign foods we’ve embraced wholeheartedly, made entirely our own.

Anyway, Richman sampled 386 pizzas at 109 different pizzerias across the U.S. Now there's a writing assignment!

I tried Polish pizza in Chicago (not bad, except for the nearly raw egg on top), Indian pizza in San Francisco (pretty good, although reheated chicken dries out badly, despite the tikka masala sauce), Turkish pizza in New York (invariably called “pitza” and, because it’s made with pita dough, rather crackly), and Korean pizza in Los Angeles. (The Korean-style Hanchi Gold pie was topped with spicy bean paste, sweet-potato mousse, ground beef, onion, bell pepper, olives, corn, mushrooms, edamame, jalapeño, bacon, Cheddar cheese, marinated calamari, sour cream, garlic, and parsley, and when you have that much piled on, it’s hard to tell the potato mousse from the sour cream.)

Richman's #1 choice is Great Lake in Chicago (sigh), a place where the Polish/Czech co-owner is also the pizza maker. At least he ranked New York as the #1 pizza city in the U.S. Sadly, I read through the list and realized I have only been to one of those places (Famous Joe's in NYC, right down the block from the CD store I used to own, so I went there a lot) - and the odds that I'll get to any of the others are fairly remote.

I was reading about a Burger of the Month club in New York, where each month a small group goes to an agreed upon restaurant to try the burger and then blog about the results and keep a list of rankings. Maybe we should do that in Hong Kong? Have a pizza of the month club & a burger of the month club?

Danger Mouse (aka one half of Gnarls Barkley) and Sparklehorse collaborated on an album called Dark Night of the Soul. Guest vocalists on the 13 song album include Wayne Coyne (of Flaming Lips), Black Francis, Iggy Pop, Gruff Rhys, Julian Casablancas, Nina Persson and Vic Chestnutt. Packaging was to include a 100+ page book of photographs by David Lynch, inspired by the music.

Well, Buddha knows why, but EMI Records has decided to scrap the release of the record. Contractual issues? Uncleared samples? Is it really scrapped or on indefinite hiatus? No one's saying.

So Danger Mouse has decided to go ahead with the release anyway, in a sense. So you can buy the package, but instead of the album inside, there will be a blank CD-R labelled, "'For Legal Reasons, enclosed CD-R contains no music. Use it as you will."

The album has been streaming on the NPR web site and is, of course, available via the usual download sources.

I'm listening to it now and it fucking rules. Will probably buy the "CD" for the book of Lynch photos.

Sleeping's not gonna be easy tonight, searching for distractions.

#1 - NBC is milking the season finale of 30 Rock for all its worth. Last week Jack Donaghy (Alec Baldwin) finally found his father (Alan Alda) only to find out that he's in need of a kidney. Rather than give up one of this own, he stages a benefit concert that's a wonderful parody of We Are the World. Elvis Costello refuses to play along until Jack unveils his trump card - "Aren't you really Declan McManus, international art thief?" Also along for Kidney Now! are ... get this combination .... Steve Earle, Clay Aiken, Sheryl Crow, Beastie Boys, Michael McDonald, Moby, Mary J Blige, Norah Jones, Talib Kweli, Cyndi Lauper, Rhett Miller, Wyclef Jean and a whole bunch more.

Elvis: Listen, when someone starts talking in the middle of a song you know it's serious.
Mary J: So give Milton a kidney. We all believe in this cause so much we're doing it for free. Except for Sheryl.
Sheryl: That's right. I'm the only one getting paid.
Norah: And only three of us are drunk.
McDonald: Milton Greene needs a kidney. Just like I need this beard. You don't want to know what's under here.
(Don't recognize this guy): And while you don't have two beards you do have two kidneys. Think of it this way: if I had two dollars, I'd give you one, wouldn't I?
Cyndi: I'm one of the drunk ones!

#2 - This was a fascinating article, big excerpt from an upcoming book. My Personal Credit Crisis by Edmund L. Andrews. Andrews was one of those people who should have known better - an economics reporter for the New York Times. Who took a mortgage he couldn't afford because he could get it and he was sure that things would work out.

The panic attack hit me around 2 a.m. on Patty’s birthday. It was Oct. 17, 2007, and I was lying in bed obsessing over bills that couldn’t be postponed and the money we didn’t have to pay them. Like many of my predawn fear cascades, this one had its start with a specific unpaid bill: $240 in traffic tickets — $140 for speeding, $50 each for expired tags and inspection. The fines would double if we didn’t pay them in less than a week. The tickets had uncorked the bottle on all the other “must pays”: the $400 electric bill with the cutoff date printed in red; the $220 cable/telephone/Internet bill for the past two months; the MasterCard and American Express bills — at least one of which had to be brought current or I wouldn’t even be able to travel for work. And of course, there was the $3,271 mortgage payment.

Oh yes, his monthly pay after taxes, alimony and child support was about $2,700 and his wife was out of work.

Returned to the doctor today. He says he's surprised at how fast I'm recovering but took more blood for more tests to be sure. (Yes Phil, Hep A.)

I made a last minute decision not to drive there, and I think that was a good idea. While I'm feeling stronger, I'm still quite weak and I'm sure my reaction time isn't what it should be.

Nevertheless, I may have pushed things a bit far and I've been feeling like shit again tonight. Was it that I decided to walk through the "Marketplace by Jason" "supermarket" at Dairy Farm (verdict: not worth going out of your way for) after finishing with the doctor, and then stopping off in Sai Kung town to hit the bank before coming home? Or was it because I thought it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to have the two leftover pieces of Pizza Hut pizza sitting in the freezer for lunch? Or that the 7-11 in town now stocks Mountain Dew and I couldn't resist? Whichever, lying in bed tonight watching the season end episode of Lost (with not one but two huge cliffhangers), my temp crept back up to 37.8.

My girlfriend, bless her heart, hasn't gone out for two weeks, except to hit the grocery store in town. Her friends come up to visit her during the day time. She says she's not bored sitting at home for so long .... except that sitting at home, all she's doing now is eating and sleeping and so she's gaining weight. Actually I noticed this but hadn't said a word about it - I do value my life.
======================
Anyway, I was thinking about pizza today.

There are two US cities that pride themselves on their pizza, New York and Chicago. Each has its own unique style. Growing up in New York, NY pizza is a comfort food for me. Every day after regular school and before Hebrew school, I'd stop at the same place (corner of Fordham Road and Valentine Avenue in the Bronx) and get a slice with pepperoni and a coke for 25 cents. (Yeah, I'm old, get over it, okay?) It was covered with pepperoni - at least a dozen tiny slices. You'd pick it up, fold it in half lengthwise, and try not to drip oil all over yourself as you slurp it down. I mean, seriously, at 10 years old, this was so good I literally ate it every day.

By the time I got to high school, a funny thing happened on the New York pizza scene.

The huge gas ovens used by almost every pizza place were made by a company called Ray Bari. So one pizza place in Manhattan got very popular and it was called Ray's. I don't really think their pizza was that different from any other place - sauce from an industrial sized can, shredded cheese from a bag, dough probably delivered from a central bakery. But this place was deemed the best by those in the know.

And in the wake of their popularity, every other pizza place in town copied their name. There was Ray's, Famous Ray's, Original Ray's, Famous Original Ray's, Original Famous Ray's, Ray Bari's, Original Ray Bari's and so on. Soon it seemed like every street corner in Manhattan had a pizza place that had "Ray" in its name. And people would get into heated arguments over which one had the best.

(The only exception that I knew of was one spot in Greenwich Village, John's, which had a brick oven and didn't serve slices, only whole pies. But it was beyond my meager budget.)

As I got older, I became aware of another style, a more handcrafted style using fresh ingredients, possibly more authentic Italian. Eventually I found this spot in Brooklyn, literally underneath the Brooklyn Bridge, where people lined up out the door to get their amazing 'za. Fresh dough, fresh sauce, big globs of cheese instead of stringy stuff from a bag. Also no slices, but the first time I went there, the flavor was so new to me and so amazing, I think I finished an entire pie by myself. Can't recall the name of the place - brick walls, Frank Sinatra on the stereo, kind of like the place in Do the Right Thing.

This concept has spread throughout NYC now. There are dozens of places with wood burning or coal burning ovens making artisanal pizzas. There's an incredible range of toppings, every kind of meat or fish, even white pizzas with cheese but no sauce loaded up with fresh veg on top.

Pizza in Hong Kong is a different story. People here go nuts for Pizza Hut, which only qualifies as "pizza" under the broadest possible definition - there's dough and sauce and a cheese-like substance. And as they do all around the world, Pizza Hut has localized their offerings. Pizza with corn? Pizza with Russian dressing? I mean, come on, who eats this shit? Answer - people who've never had any better and so don't know there's something better out there; people on a budget; my helper and my girlfriend .....

Look, I understand how these fast food chains have to work. Their "recipes" are devised in laboratories, not kitchens. They use ingredients that are as cheap as possible. And their recipes are done to ensure that any idiot with 1 day's training can make it and with global consistency of taste. Think about it - a Big Mac in Iowa looks and tastes exactly the same as one in Beijing, and at a similar price. This requires incredibly precise control with what comes from your suppliers as well as cooking machines and techniques that ensure uniformity of results even with 50,000 different line cooks in the kitchen. Regardless of how you feel about the food they turn out, this is very tough to do. This is how they have to do it. Makes it reliable and dependable - doesn't make it good though.

Anyway, while I'm sure Pizza Hut is number one in Hong Kong, there are other places for pizza. Some are chains (like the local Pepperoni's chain - they use the wrong kind of dough and their sauce is almost sickly sweet) and the UK chain Pizza Express, which is kind of a step up, and Wildfire (which I've never gotten around to trying). Cru in Sai Kung does pizza - it's kind of interesting - the ingredients are not bad but the dough is thinner than a Ritz cracker, which makes the whole thing just plain weird to me.

So my question for tonight is this .... is there any place in Hong Kong that employs an honest to goodness trained pizzaiola, someone who is turning out pies that look like these?





The above photos come from Pizza Mezzaluna on Houston Street in New York, grabbed from Serious Eats New York. I read this review when it first appeared two months ago, the images have stayed with me.

A wood burning oven. A properly charred crust. Obviously fresh cheese. I can only imagine what the sauce tastes like. (The first photo is a mini margherita, number two is sausage and mushroom using Salumeria Biellese sausage, number 3 is Sicilian tuna with red onions and capers.)

I mean, come on, look at those pies! Don't they make you hungry for one right now? Now that I'm older, I know that those are what pizza is supposed to be.

And just look at that calzone in the two photos above! Holy christ!

So is there any place in Hong Kong that does pies that even remotely approach this? Inquiring minds want to know!

Anyone can now publish their blog to Amazon's Kindle. Well, you have to set up an account with them and looks like they are looking for either a US bank account or a US address for mailing a check.

Amazon charges US$2 per month to subscribe to a blog. They keep 70% of that, you get 30%. So that's 60 cents US per month for each subscription. Do I really think anyone is gonna pay $24 a year to read my blog, especially when there are a zillion ways to get it for free?

Then again, don't cost nothing to set this up and optimism does reign supreme, or so I'm told.

And now, via Pajiba, a woman who fucked herself to death with a jackhammer.

(Wasn't that worth $24?)

No fever now for 3 days and eating normally - well not normally because I'm trying to eat healthy. Even so, can't seem to sleep more than an hour or two at a time at night.

Waking up so often, my dreams are very vivid. If only they weren't so fucking stupid.

Last night's dream: I'm on American Idol, with Adam and Danny and Kris. It's the next round of competition. The task this week is to build a web page but all the photos on the page have to be RAW. And I'm thinking it's not fair because Adam's camera can't produce RAW files. And then, at the last minute, they change the rules and JPEGs are okay, too. And I'm thinking that's also really unfair and wondering if they're always going to change the rules to ensure Adam wins.

As bad as that dream is, imagine waking up every hour and that's all that's in your head. Lying there in bed, thinking about doing web pages as part of a singing competition. And then going back to sleep and waking up and knowing I had the same goddamn dream again. And again.

Waiting for the Winwood/Clapton album (release next week) to turn up on usenet. I'm sure that will cheer me up.

The above photo is by David duChemin - go here to see the full article and also view some photos larger size.

Photography is the hobby du jour, especially in Hong Kong. People spend thousands, tens of thousands of dollars on equipment, but not many are taking memorable photos.

For me, as I become more comfortable with my D300, as I learn what all those buttons and options are, and as I try to get to the point where it becomes second nature so I can just take the fucking picture, I'm reading more about technique. My "cameras" category in my RSS used to be just feeds about new equipment releases and reviews.

I've found there are a number of professional photographers and writers out there who are smart enough to blog on a regular basis, knowing that giving away some information for free turns into sales of their services, books, etc. Some of the blogs I've now added and read regularly include (in vaguely random order):

The Digital Trekker
Scott's Photo Blog
Photofocus
The Travel Photographer
Scott Kelby's Photoshop Insider
Pixelated Image

I'm sure many of you know of more - feel free to share!

Anyway, Pixelated Image is the blog by duChemin. He's just published a new book titled, Within the Frame: The Journey of Photographic Vision. Kelby reviews the book on the Amazon page and writes:

... he not only shows his absolutely captivating images, he shows the thought process behind those images, as well as how to start capturing the types of images we all long to take. People will be talking about this book for years to come.

Obviously this is going to be in my next Amazon order. You can also download a pdf file with 38 pages (in full color) from the book from here.

Anyway, duChemin, guest-blogging on Kelby's blog (okay, perhaps slightly incestuous), writes about a revolution that sees (or hopes he sees) coming down the road:

It’s going to lead to a new ecumenical movement, the Nikon versus Canon crusaders will lay down their swords and go create photographs instead, suddenly aware that talking/arguing about photography is not the same as actually making photographs. They’ll suddenly realize they’ve been asking if Nikon or Canon is better and never ask, “better at what?”

It’s going to stop us from using terms like “Travel Photography” which defines our images by mode of transport and not by how compellingly we photograph people, places, or culture, here or around the world. Sure there are better ways to describe our work than, “I got on a plane to create this.”

It’s going to lead us to stop talking about the way we create light and start talking about the kind of light we create. That part of the revolution has already started with heroes like Joe McNally and David Hobby leading the fray.

The revolution, at its extremes, is going to push us to fall so in love with this craft that we abandon our addiction to technology and start calling the camera companies on their lunacy when they tell the world that their new cameras are so good practically anyone can now shoot like a pro; a claim that debases our craft and dishonors the work we all put in to be the best visual storytellers we can be.

Reads pretty well, don't it?

Anyway, I'm fucking sick of being sick. I wanna be well again. And one thing is I wanna go out and just start taking pictures every day again so I can get to the level that I think I can get to. Maybe not "get my photos published in a book" level (but then again, why not?) but at stuff I can share and view with more pride.

Just my thought for this afternoon.

Random download from the internet today ..... "Monty Python in Aberystwyth," a new BBC documentary. So here's the deal:

Monty Python's Life of Brian was banned upon release in many cities in the UK. A reporter uncovers the fact that 30 years later, it's still banned in the Welsh city of Aberystwyth and further discovers that the current mayor of that city is none other than Sue Jones-Davies, who played Judith in the film.

So yes, to cut a long story short, she gets the ban overturned and there's a charity screening in the town, and Jones and Palin show up for it.

And respectable society crumbles and the residents of this once god-fearing town are all turned into pillars of salt. Okay, not so much.

No, nothing earth shattering, but a good enough way to pass 30 minutes when I can't figure out what to do with myself just yet.

Last night I went to bed around midnight. I was up at 2 AM, and never really succeeded in getting back to sleep. While the ibuprofen seems to be doing a good job in at least containing my back and leg pain, I was just incredibly thirsty, drinking bottle after bottle of water all night long. I had no fever and got some sleep in the morning but still felt completely meh.

This morning the doctor called. He wanted to know if I was eating. Um, er, no, not really. What had I eaten so far today? Uh, a cookie? At that point he didn't explode, merely explained that I wasn't going to get better if I didn't start to eat and that if I didn't do it on my own, he'd put me in the hospital on an IV. Okay, okay.

So a bowl of chicken, veg & rice soup. Canned. But I managed a full serving. Then in the afternoon a fresh mango.

Flashback a few days ago ....

We were lying in bed watching Anthony Bourdain, the episode he did in Vancouver. He highlights three chefs he calls the "three amigos" - one Italian, one Indian, one Japanese, all of whom have made Vancouver their home. (And yes, all their food looked pretty freaking amazing.) And he also went to some restaurant on an island where everything was locally grown or raised; the salad had colors in it like you wouldn't believe. The episode ends with a dinner party, all three amigos at one of their homes, cooking their favorite dishes for each other.

That night, I dreamed that I went to that restaurant on that island, that all three amigos were there. That once you got to that island, if you knew them or they knew you, you were "in." You passed a boundary into a shadow world, where you could stay forever and want for nothing as long as you didn't ask for anything - you'd get what you need, to quote the Stones. (Yes, my gf, told me later, the Japanese omakaze concept!) If you actually asked for anything except water, you'd be thrown back into the real world and off the island. You were invisible to the normal guests, they'd pass right through you. And I was lying there, Chef Vikrim Vij was making these little morsels with paneer and veg and shoving them into my mouth and it saved my life.

Anyway, back to today, we're sitting around this afternoon, and my gf is asking a million questions about what I want to have for dinner. And I keep shaking my head. Until she says she really wishes she could have a curry. Yes! Maybe that's one reason that I'm not eating, that a piece of toast, a piece of grilled chicken breast, it's okay but not knocking my taste buds down and not making me want to eat.

I bolt up in bed. I want Indian food. And Dia delivers!

There are 3, maybe more, Indian restaurants in Sai Kung. The local branch of Jojo's is so bad it's unbelievable. The Village is okay but not worth a special trip. Dia may not be the most authentic Indian restaurant in the world, or even in HK, but they use a large variety of spices, their sauces are great, their chicken comes from the US, their lamb and beef from Australia.

I grabbed the menu. I ordered 5 favorites. No vindaloo, milder stuff (they do a lot of northern India dishes along with all the usual suspects). I thought, maybe I'll have a bite or two of each and that will be it. But the food came and for the first time in a week I actually came down to the ground floor for a meal. We opened the containers and it smelled so damned good, I ate an actual human sized meal. Beef, chicken, bread, rice, veg.

Now maybe some of the experts out there are gonna tell me that Indian food ain't the best thing to have when one is recuperating from hepatitis. (So what do Indians eat when they're sick then?) All I can say is, the smell, the taste, once I started I couldn't stop eating and I've been tired since then but also feeling stronger.

So, yeah, it wasn't world famous chef Vikrim who saved my life tonight, but the anonymous chef at a tiny hole in the wall local joint, a place which I normally like when I'm feeling okay but which right now I absolutely love.

(Coming to Sai Kung and want to try this place instead of the waterfront seafood? Dia is located on the wonderfully named Fuk Man Road, just a few feet away from The Duke.)

Feeling like crap. This is gonna take awhile for me to get over. Yesterday barely got out of bed. Called the doctor last night and he offered to put me in hospital but when I asked him what more they could do for me that can't be done at home, I think the best he offered was "cute nurses." He knows me already? But I decided to stay home. Fever up and down, but an hour of lucidity today.

This has cheered me up. Lonely Island reteaming with Justin Timberlake on SNL for a sequel to Dick in a Box, a special mother's day tribute that is incredibly offensive. Got the link to youtube from here and these lunatics transcribed the lyrics.

The youtube viddy:



And the lyrics:

Oh Damn.
What is it dog?
I forgot it’s Mother’s Day.

Didn’t get a gift for her?
Other plans got in the way

She’ll be so disappointed
Damn I forgot it too

This coulda been avoided
What the hell are we gonna do?

My ma’s been so alone
Ever since my daddy left (Cold)

No one to hold her tight
Life has put her to the test

I know just what you mean
My mom’s been so sad and gray (Word)

My dad can’t satisfy her
In the bedroom ever since he passed away

Hold up
You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?
I’m thinkin’ I think it too

Slow up
What time is it dog?
It’s time for a switcharoo

We both love our moms
Women with grown women needs
I say we break ‘em off
Show ‘em how much they really mean

‘Cuz I’m a motherlover
You’re a mothe lover
We should fuck each other’s mothers
Fuck each other’s moms

I’ll be pushin’ that lady
Where you came out as a baby
Ain’t no doubt this shit is crazy (Fuck each other’s moms)

‘Cuz every Mother’s Day needs a mother’s night
If doin’ it is wrong, I don’t wanna be right

I’m calling on you, ‘cuz I can’t do it myself
To me you’re like a brother
So be my motherlover

I’ll be layin’ in the cut waitin’ for your mom
Clutchin’ lube plus a little bit of roses

I got my digital camera
I’m gonna make your momma do a million poses

They will be so surprised
We are so cool and thoughtful
Can’t wait to pork your mom
I’m gonna be the syrup she can be my waffle

Sure ’nuff
My momma loves bubble bath with chamomile

Straight up
Give it to my mom d-d-d-d-d-d-oggy style

This is the perfect plan
For a perfect Mother’s Day
They’ll have to rename this one
All Up Under the Covers Day

‘Cuz I’m a motherlover
You’re a motherlover
We should fuck each other’s mothers
Fuck each other’s moms

I’ll be pushin’ that lady
Where you came out as a baby
Ain’t no doubt this shit is crazy (Fuck each other’s moms)

(Break it down) It would be my honor
To be your new step-father
It would be my honor
To be your new step-father

And while you’re in my mother
Make me another brother (Yeah)
And while I’m in your mother
I’ll never use a rubber (Oh!)

‘Cuz every Mother’s Day needs a mother’s night
If doin’ it is wrong, I don’t wanna be right

I’m calling on you, ‘cuz I can’t do it myself
To me you’re like a brother
So be my motherlover

They blessed us both with the gift of life
She brought you in this world, so I’m a’ sex her right

This is the second best idea that we ever had
The choice can be no other
Be my motherlover

Happy Mother’s Day

Feeling 10% more human today. But not easy. I can't find a comfortable position for sleeping or sitting, because my liver is so swollen that it's pushing against the nerves in my lower back, and so my back hurts, and also my right leg down past the knee.

Can't find words. For "nerves" keep thinking "noun" and "verb" and put the two together to get "nerve". And once I get the word, I have to start over again. My mind gets trapped in these repeating loops. I don't have the attention span to watch a movie or read a book. Can't sleep more than 2 or 3 hours at a time.

But here's what pisses me off. Doctor #4, he listened to my chest and asked for a chest x-ray. He said I should go to Central. But I told him I didn't have the strength. He said there's a place in Hang Hau but a lot of his patients don't like it, it's kind of not modern. I said I don't care, I'm sure I've been to worse. As long as they don't have rats crawling over the machines I'll be okay. Famous last words.

So we go there. Yeah. It's kind of old and funky. Located on the side corridor of some shopping mall. The thing is, I get a chest x-ray every year. I know how they're supposed to go. This guy stands me against the machine. Takes off my shirt. Positions me. Goes out of the room. I'm shivering. I can't stand up straight for more than 2 seconds at a time. I'm waiting to hear him tell me to hold my breath and stand still, but instead he comes in and says it's done. It's done? Are you sure?

So we wait outside until he develops it and looks at it and says it's okay. And then we go.

The next day, the doctor says the chest x-ray shows I have some tissue growth on my lungs. Probably benign but he's not sure. I tell him what happened. Hmmmmm.

So now he wants me to go to Central for ultra-sound and another chest x-ray at a normal place.

So. I don't have the strength to drive. I don't have the strength to deal with the MTR, standing, walking those stairs. Green taxi from home to Hang Hau. Red taxi to Central. Red taxi from Central back to doctor's office in Pik Uk. Green taxi from doctor's office back home.

This place in Central does the x-ray properly. They position me. They put a lead apron around my legs - something the other place never did. They take two shots, not one. And guess what. The x-ray is clear. Fine.

Also the ultra-sound is good. Liver is swollen but no permanent damage. Bladder, prostate, kidneys, etc. all good.

Cost of first x-ray $150. Cost of 2nd x-ray plus ultra-sound $2500. Probably not covered by the shitty insurance from my soon to be ex-company.

Doctor tells me he will stop using the place in Hang Hau.

=====================================================

My fucking subhuman boss. Sends me an email. "Oh, er, em, huh, I, um, er, don't know what hepatitis is or what the treatment is but hope you feel better." In the time it took him to type all that out, he could have typed google and then typed hepatitis but it's easier for him to make me feel totally inconsequential to him, which of course I am since I'm gone in 5 months and he's still got his job. Okay, give him the benefit of the doubt, even though he's younger than me, I get the feeling he may be one of those people who hasn't quite worked out the internet yet.

==============================

took me about an hour to write the above. i apologize for typos, etc. best i can do right now.

I think just knowing now what I got has made a huge psychological difference. I just finished my first attempt at a meal since Saturday. I think it will stay down. I hope.

Here's the thing as I see it through my still somewhat feverish haze ...

I went to Mona Fong clinic & Tseung Kwan O hospital 3 times. Saw 3 different docs. They took my temps. Listened to me breathe. Took my blood pressure. Asked some questions. Gave me some pills and said come back in 3 days if still have fever.

Went to a private doctor yesterday. First thing they did after temp and blood pressure was take a urine sample. They did a "quick dip" and that told the story. Blood and pigment in my urine. So full blood and urine work-up and chest x-ray. My liver function numbers are off the fucking charts. Tomorrow I'm going for ultra-sound and maybe more tests. Because there's something else that showed up in those tests, not gonna say what it is right now.

Why didn't HA do this? Not the first time, not the second, but when I was back for the 3rd time in a week and still no progress? I don't know. Why didn't I ask them to? Never occurred to me. I think those doctors were doing their best to help me within the guidelines or whatever set up by the HA for treatment. But at a certain point, when I was still waking up with fever every morning, still throwing up every night, I felt I had to get off the assembly line and find a private doctor who would charge shitloads more but also do more for me. "I promise you, I am going to nail this for you," that's what he said to me.

Funny thing is that I've cut down on drinking so much in the past few years. I'm famous now for going to bars and only getting coke or juice or water. At most I get drunk once a month, and because I don't drink much, it doesn't take much to get me drunk. Last alcohol I drank was three weeks ago when I shared a bottle of wine with my gf for her birthday dinner. (Ok, then 1 glass of sherry and then 1 shot of tequila. But still by Hong Kong gweilo standards, that's nothing, right?)

I had mono/hep/jaundice when I was 20 years old - 35 fucking years ago! I walked around with it for about two weeks. I knew something was wrong with me but just thought it was a batch of bad cocaine. (Those were the days.) Then when the color of my urine changed, I knew I was sick and I was, and it took a few weeks for me to get back to normal again.

at least after 10 days, 4 doctors, a reasonable idea. maybe can be feeling better by next week. last night couldn't sleep for more than 10 minutes at a stretch. a nightmare, same episode of american idol playing over and over, some endless loop, adam shrieking his way through whole lotta love, then doing it in armenian or something.

can't sleep, can't eat, getting thinner is good, smoking less they tell me is good

maybe it's hepatitis

more info tomorrow

Throwing up last night. More fever this morning. Back to the clinic today. This time they gave me antibiotics. Slowly climbing my way back now. Mostly weak from not really eating for 5 days. Managed a small lunch, tiny dinner. As much fruit and juice as I can handle in between. If no fever tomorrow will attempt the office on Thursday. Thanks for your messages of concern.

still have fever

not really eating, this morning drank water and threw up

hallucinating a lot, dreaming a lot too, kind of weird but i like it

can't even appreciate the sponge baths my gf is giving me

was gonna go to my doctor today but he's in central, realized no way i could make it. going to clinic in town tomorrow or maybe emergency room tonight, we'll see

(Image from BoingBoing - click for larger size)

So the entire world's in a panic over the flu (which we're not supposed to call swine flu anymore, because the pork industry complained) and I've got the flu and it just won't go away. I don't have H1N1, I've got something else, think I'll call it Bongo Fever, for no particular reason.

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, sky's a bit hazy gray but temps are nice, the water's filled with people in boats, I'm sure the park is full too, but I'm home, watching it all from the terrace. Not to mention that this means I'll be home sick on my birthday, not up for doing anything crazy or close to it.

I kind of figured my gf might have something special planned for the day and told her to cancel it. "Who told you?" "No one, you just did with your reaction!" She won't say what it was - presumably it wasn't getting all of her friends to sleep with me but one never knows, do one?

Woke up this morning got myself a gun with moderate fever and threw up most of the small dinner I'd had last night. The outpatient clinic in town only operates a half day on Saturdays and was fully booked, which meant a taxi ride to the Tseung Kwan O hospital emergency room in Hang Hau. Even though I got there around 8:30 in the morning, after going through triage it was almost 90 minutes till a doctor could see me. They have this special roped-off waiting area for patients with fever; I got to sit there alone with my mask on and look at everyone look at me, glancing up from their newspapers and tales of HK's first confirmed H1N1 case; maybe they were wondering if I was to be the second?

So, some stronger meds this time and advice that I should just keep taking the drugs, wait it out, come back in 3 days if still ill.

The only thing more depressing than being ill on one's birthday is seeing Facebook status updates & tweets from people - ostensibly adults! - who went to see Wolverine and say they loved it. It's a movie for teens & tweens, and not a very well made one at that. It almost succeeds in making Xmen 3 palatable - almost. (Yet it seems on track for an $85 million opening weekend in the US - despite the internet leak - proving once again that bad taste is timeless.)(And actually doesn't this serve as some kind of blow to all of Hollywood's crying about anti-piracy?)

Of course, in HK we get movies like Wolverine and 17 Again day and date (or close to it) with the US release. We wait months for anything that even vaguely resembles adult entertainment (at least by Hollywood definitions) - we're still waiting for State of Play, Sunshine Cleaning, Observe & Report, Duplicity and so many others. But I suppose this is a reflection of the actual or perceived tastes of local audiences. At least other countries have a depth of theaters and screens so if you don't wanna go see some grade-Z remake of Fatal Attraction starring Beyonce (Obsessed), you're not starved for other choices.

=============================

Idolator digs a funny ad out of Craigslist:

A Craigslist ad titled “I caught my guitarist screwing my wife so I am selling his guitar amp!” has some pretty, uh, interesting specs on the amp itself: “It has three channels, Clean, Crunch, and Look At Me, I Am Playing Another Lead! It has a foot switch that changes between the channels and turns on and off the effects loops so you can have a ginourmous home made pedal board and look like the biggest douche that ever graced the stage of the Riot Room. There is also a reverb so you can make your guitar sound like the moaning echos of a man who’s wife is a cheating whore. I assure you, it is in pristine shape, as the former owner took care of it like it were his baby. Well, he is busy taking care of other things now, isn’t he? Please buy this thing before I throw it through the window of his house.”

I think his wife cheated on him due to poor grammar.

I'm still feeling like poop, in more ways than one.

Wednesday night was feeling well enough to go out for dinner. We went somewhere nearby, a place that we both like quite a bit, but I won't mention by name because later that night I was puking a bit - from the flu, not the food.

Thursday, went into the office. A bowl of pho for lunch seemed like a reasonably healthy thing to do. Later a stop at Rock Gallery (new Dylan 2 CD + 1 DVD deluxe edition, Pearl Jam's Ten 2 CD + 1 DVD legacy edition and, spur of the moment, the reissues of the old XTC/Dukes of Stratosphear material - great under-heard stuff from them poking nostalgic fun at 60s psychedelia). Then over to the computer center, needed some more hard disks.

Too much too soon? By the time I finished at the computer center, I was sweating buckets. Grabbed a kebab and headed home, unfortunately at the peak of rush hour traffic. Remind me one of these days to rant about the idiotic road construction at the Tseung Kwan O tunnel. Two years to "retrofit noise barriers" along a 1 km stretch of road? And how do you retrofit something that wasn't previously there?

The plan for today was to take the dogs down to the park in town. Except I was feeling like crap all day, only wanted to sleep, didn't bother to eat, and by the afternoon my temperature was back up to 38.2. The first holiday in memory with actual nice weather and I'm stuck in bed. Swallowed a fistful of pills, forced myself to eat some food, will see how I am in the morning to decide if another doctor visit or not.

This Sunday is my birthday. Double nickels. The plan was to spend Saturday getting massaged to within an inch of my life in Shenzhen, followed by some bar-hopping Saturday night, and then a quiet day on Sunday with my gf and dogs and a nice dinner out. I think Shenzhen's off the table for this weekend; maybe some shopping in Mong Kok if I'm feeling up to it.

So probably a low key birthday. Save the insanity for the following weekend.

My latest BC Magazine column is now online. Enjoy!

If the devil’s greatest trick was convincing people he doesn’t exist, most people don’t realize the true scope of Cowell’s reach. They see him as that smug guy on American Idol, wearing the white V-neck T-shirts that accentuate his man-boobs, saying witty things such as, ‘Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d rather get a golden shower from Herve Villechaize than listen to you sing another song.’ But that is just the tip of the Cowell iceberg.