vegan vegetable korma

This is the vegan version; the non-vegan version replaces the coconut milk with heavy cream.

You will need:

4 potatoes, diced
4 carrots, diced
6 onions, really fucking diced
4-6 garlic cloves, minced
1 lb bag of frozen peas
1 lb bag of frozen cauliflower
1 red pepper, diced
1 green pepper, diced
3 jalapenos, diced (optional: seeded)
1 tblsp salt
1/4 cup curry powder
1 tblspoon garam marsala
1/4 cup vegetable oil (avoid olive oil if you can help it)
ginger, minced into paste about 1 tblsp.
tomato sauce, 15-oz can
coconut milk, 15-oz can

Put the oil into pan, add medium heat; put onions into oil until tender (soft but not translucent) then add garlic and ginger. add salt, stir and wait 3 minutes for them to blend a bit. Dump in all the other veggies, tomato sauce, curry powder and garam marsala, stir. If it feels like there's too little liquid in there, relax -- the onion will sweat quite a bit out and the tomato sauce will help things get going. When you put in the coconut milk (at the end) you'll get more liquid as well. Put your cauliflower and peas in the microwave and cook 'em up. when they're done, incorporate into the mixture and add coconut milk by 1/4 can until you get an orange-y yellow color. When the potato and carrots are fork-tender, you're done. serve over rice and/or w/ naan. The coconut milk makes it a bit sweeter than you would perhaps expect, so take that into account when deciding how spicy you want it.

I cooked this for 24 (modified to: 10 potator, 6 carrots, 10 onions, 2 cans tomato, 1 whole can coconut, 24 cloves garlic, 1/2 c curry & oil and double the peppers) for a charity luncheon at work; looks like we cleared enough to get 3 or 4 kids' cleft palates fixed for Christmas. Also, I burned my hand.

running up the hill backwards

let's do bullet points this time:

• i posted on facebook about the skullstick and mama sunflower asked for it and picked it up within two hours. sun was less than happy about this, afterwards -- "thanks for giving a cursed thing to my mom dave"
• i have resurrected a mac (well the drive anyway, the mac itself is fucked but i might make it workable if i can find a mobo for it (unlikely!) and then a new drive.
• today i did not go to the book fair, but on the other hand i did get the joy of fixing a flat (two punctures!) and fixing-ish a kitchen faucet that would not turn off.i now know more about faucets than i used to.
• i have a lack-of-caffeine headache.
• i had a 2 hours on-and-off IM conversation w/ baid about her cervix, her pussy in general (and i'm not talking titilating convo here, i'm talking "perhaps you mistook me for a gyno") and her menstrual accessory preferrence (cups, surprisingly, not plugs or pads.)
• cleaned house. this is actually my favorite thing i have accomplished this week. the disarray was really getting to me. the living room is semi-sane now and the florida is getting there.
• got into an argument w/ a classmate last tues and as of today it is resolved. which is good; i tend to brood and i'm glad i don't need to anymore.

2 weeks ago last thurs

i finally stopped hating my personal little slice of hurt in the world, thursday 2 weeks ago at 2am.

everything happens to me

Sterling had Michaelangelo today at 11ish am.

Picked up "Monk Alone": 2.5 hours of Thelonious Monk on the piano alone. It's a little bit like going mad in heaven. He does some standards and things you wouldn't expect ("everything happens to me", "just a gigolo") in his inimitable style. I really try to play guitar like he plays piano but god it's like planning to fall down the stairs: you can't do it naturally without fucking up. The odd accents, the pauses and embellishments.

"Between The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea" and the four (!) versions of "everything happens to me" are just too. fucking. hardcore.

more proof i am a bad person

so eden calls me up. "your favorite person is back in miami." "would you be friends again...it was a long time ago, he's a different person, blahblhablhablhablah"

i don't care anymore. i mean, it would be cool if i could trust people again. it would be nice to be able to make friends without pulling fucking teeth. but nothing's going to undo that, so why bother? to pretend he wasn't a bad person? to act like I'm and he's OK and everything's cool? I might as well call the bee up and say lets play pool or whatever. which again, pa' que? i dunno. Eden's acting like he throws me into a rage, but it's really kind of worse because i feel nothing. He didn't care then, so why fake it now? I dont' get it. Indifference, which man...fuck I tried with that guy man. Afterwards, I mean. I tried the hardest and he just fucking threw it in my fucking face. So karma can take of that, I guess.

also, sun's mad at me now and i don't know why. but i guess i'm enough of an asshole that asking for a specific reason is kind of silly. putting me off for weeks with 'don't want to talk' which i know what it's like but then hangs with tai or mei? girl things, i don't know. and I don't even know if it's me or not. asking just makes it worse without explaining anything.

oh and laurachicken gets brain surgery soonish.

and i find out the sex this weekkkkkkkkkkkkk

finally three days later my leg stopped hurting although last night more stabbing pains. i think about vic, you know. i mean, he was fine that week. put in a full day and we said later and i left him working on some windows shit with W and poof he's gone. i gotta set things up for in case i shuffle off this mortal coil. I think of Dee and her bloodclot in her leg.

the funny part is that there was a storm

so i tell my friend Little Trouble Girl that my right nut's been itching all day off and on.

she says "maybe a storm's comin' "

you promised me poems.

Another year, and it gets further away and it hurts less, I guess. Eventually I will be able to stop feeling it at all. And if there were even the slightest bit of genuine sorry, we could be friends. Such a bitter pill. Last night at the big B, rockin' it with Tai-tai:

me: So I'm sad.
tai-tai: Why?
me: because it's the 4th of July.
tai-tai: So?
me: It's my anniversary for when my drama-llama bullshit happened.
tai-tai: oh.
me: I mean, I bet you don't even remember when the thing with your sister happened.
tai-tai: no, I don't know the day or even the month. I remember where i was and what I was doing.
me: but that's my point. I can't forget, and even if I did, there's fucking fireworks to remind me.
tai-tai: like a party! YAY!

Moving along

So I finally got around to scanning some old photos, including this one of good ol' Randall P. Jones. The man certainly enjoyed his beanie propeller hat and could carry it with a certain panache. Need to send copies of related photos to interested parties, but Randy's gone, so I figured what the hell.

who's that shouting? by and by...

Another year coming around. I find myself re-evaluating all the shit, good and bad, come my way. I'm doing OK, I guess. There are some causes for sadness, but overall, I can't complain too hard, really. I enjoy my new job, and despite the death of Vic (or maybe because of?) I am learning more and doing different things, which is something I wanted when I left the old joint. Had Indian for lunch earlier with the dudes from Ye Olde Jobbe and they are in misery full-force. Which sucks. That whole environment is like a kid trying too hard; they want to be a business/enterprise instead of educational/medical -- or maybe they think they should be? -- and they're just stressing the wrong things. Be a hardass about what you expect, don't be a hardass about vanity or chain of command or other bullshit pipe dreams about how to show that the proverbial dick is bigger than the other dudes'. On the bright side, in about 5 to 10 years time, it's going to be SUCH a premier environment (reputation-wise, for their care and tech etc...workwise, meh...too soon to say and things are too fast-moving to be able to pin down.) Relationship stuff's worked out, really. Interpersonal drama-llama visits have been avoided. Old friends come back, Eden's back and I will hopefully soonish find myself making some music with Bunny. I find myself thinking of Cass, wondering if she's doing OK. My phone calls and emails to her are infrequent and I think awkward for her. I'm hoping this is why she doesn't reply to emails. I switched back to winamp for playing music (itunes for the ipod still, but winamp is still awesomer) and the queen cover comes up at the oddest fucking moments. Still, she was awesome and that was aside from having the most amazing tits ever. Skeeter's still pissed at me, but since she won't answer or pick up, I just leave "wishing you the best" messages every 6 months or so. Mils is here today and gone tomorrow, back with the ex she always will have a spot for, which is kinda good, really. Sun's comin' from the tx, and i will be going to tx come august and maybe san fran or canada in the winter? I dunno. The old man's gonna have multiple surgeries done at once but is putting it off until my sister gives birth, I guess in case he dies. I try not to think about it. Maybe let the vacousness of television numb it down; dr who greys anatomy dexter futurama cooking shows. Some days it's just so much and some days you just relish in jumping into the fray, you know?

Set Theory Primer

I just stumbled on a site about Set Theory Primer as it relates to music theory. Which reminds me of my favorite story about music I wrote that no one ever heard.

Bunny called me up, "hey there's a gallery opening, we're doing a music/performance/installation -- the theme of the gallery is Summerian/Babylonian art, they're showing some pieces etc etc"

I dig Sumer, cradle of civilization etc etc and I've read through Snow Crash so I know just a bit more than nothing about their language construction (atonal glosolalia? or some shit. doesn't matter, i'm not writing poetry). So I look up Summerian music. Turns out it uses a 60-tone scale. Because I am S-M-R-T smart, I figure OK, I can make music akin to atonal 12-tone theory pieces, but I have to use 1/2 and 1/4 microtones (ie, bends and half-bends) and viola, 12-tone automagically becomes 60-tone. So I write this long droning piece in an open D tuning and because it would be a bitch to be bending whole chords (although you get some really awesome dissonances, some sonic youth/glenn branca shit going on where the notes beat against each other in the air) I go and get me a slide. So it's like this blues hawaiian indian drone monster thing. It's made of pure, concentrated awesome.

And then the day of the show, come to find out they go on an hour before they said they would and also that the music has been relegated to the alley behind the gallery. Which is OK, since that's where the party people's at anyway. Ran into solo and other people from the wayback.

The secret is using lots of duct tape

Enjoy this discussion on the nature of reality by Phillip K. Dick: How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later.

You know, there's a reason why I traded Johann Hz my trusty old Peavy amp for 60 or 70 PKD books.

in which

in which Sterling provides an apt summary:
"I consider it my personal Vietnam. If I had gone in and struck hard and fast and all in one go, none of that shit would have gone down. But because I didn't, because I took it slow, I sabotaged myself. And I think it was because [removed]."
"...So you consider it all your fault?"
"Yes."
"And none of it would have happened and [removed] would still be friends with [removed]."
"That's what I'm saying."
"Wow, that's a lot of guilt."

in which Laura considers the possibility that there may be a better way to handle situations
Laura: so, he is right. we do need more time. though i think he went about it totally wrong. but, i do realize he doesnt have the emotional capability/tact that i hhave :P
(erm, maybe i dont always hav tact)
David: like when you laughed at [laura's ex-boyfriend]'s naked erection?
Laura: yes :(
David: some people might say that was .... less than fully tactful


in which Little Trouble Girl summarizes her complex love life:
"So I'm going to see my husband in the hospital, but I stopped by to have lunch with my boyfriend -- that I'm not having sex with because he's married -- to tell him about how I didn't get laid last night with my coworker/crush because he couldn't get it hard despite a long blowjob and to complain about how my fuckbuddy just left for [unnamed country] which is good because we might be developing feelings for each other. Which would be bad."

in which i make an ass of myself at a party:
"dude i was in college when you were still sucking your momma's dick!"
"you know my mom's dead, right?"

are you an amateur or is it you're unkind?

title courtesy of The Bird and The Bee's "fucking boyfriend", which song was what was playing on the CD that I gave Little Trouble Girl after her romantic misadventure with her puppy-love/co-worker person thing when she was driving to work and ran into (figuratively) said puppy-love/coworker. Like some shit out of a John Hughes movie or something.

speaking to squirt yesterday she drops "you know the reason i never liked you romantically 12 years ago when we met was because when i asked what you looked like you were so negative that it killed it". i cock-blocked myself. I bummed about this on several levels.

got mail from skeeter's man that her kid (#2) had been born, with attendant pictures. They both look glowingly happy, her in particular but that might be a mix between relief and happy and tiredness. The amusing thing is on friday I wanted to call her and in fact got as far as dialing but she's still mad at me (justafiably, i'm a sellout although i take issue with her iron-gripped resentimiento, i'm guilty of the same thing so i can't really complain about that too hard.) and probably would not have answered but I never got to follow up and call again. Too much of that is annoying, especially when someone is pointedly not answering. But WWu mails occasionally, and I hear things on the grapevine de rato en rato so I guess it's ok.

It's hardly news that I am horrible about checking my messages. So yesterday I finally check my voicemail at work -- I haven't checked it since December, easily. There's a familiar number but I can't place it. Victor, telling me to fix the fucking LDAP lookups about two weeks before he died.

improv sheet music for sale

played at the thing at soya and pomawhatever on 1st and 1st NE. it was rockin'. or more ambient. whatever. it was fun; nestor tweaked what i played live and bunny dropped live video. the crafty witch showed up looking good enough to eat, nicole also looking gorgeous and i think i ticked the lovely emily off yet again. got to play the fat tele live tho. swa-eet. i think i'm going to call that augmented chord shape song (xx231x) "i hope you die in a fire in the gaping maw of your cunt". really it's just an excuse to use the phrase gaping maw.

2 urgent dispatches

John Dies At The End is
a) going to be made into A FUCKING MOVIE (a1 is THERE'S A BOOK! ON AMAZON! WHICH I HAVE ORDERED ALREADY!)
and
b) there's a sequel!

"This here is Molly. She was a good dog. And when I say 'good dog' I don't mean it the way other people mean it, when they're talking about a dog that never shit on the floor or bit their kids. No, I'm talking about a dog that died saving Amy's life. By my rough count, that's half a dozen times Molly saved one of our lives. How many dogs can say that? Hell, how many people can say that? One time, Dave was in a burning building, and Molly here rescued him by getting behind the wheel of his car and driving into the building. You know that couldn't have been easy for her.

Anyhow, Molly died, in the way that all really good things die, fast and brutal and for no apparent reason. They say that even though it often appears that God just really, really doesn't give a shit about what happens here, that that's just an illusion and that He really does care after all, and that it's all part of his great plan to make it appear that He doesn't give a shit. Though what fucking point that serves I can't possibly imagine. I think God probably just wanted Molly for Himself, and I guess I can't blame Him.

So, here you go, God. Here's your dog back, I guess. We hereby commit Molly to doggy heaven, which is probably nicer than regular heaven, if you think about it. Amen."

ninjedit: while I was bummed out that Molly died in the sequel, I have hopes that Wong will bring her back in some non-evil and horrible way. I discovered JDatE during the aftermath of Hurricane Wilma and I read it on my fucking blackberry, which was the only internet-connected device I had (because I could charge it in the car).

Also, Eden is in town and I stole his tiny hat!