This weekend my brother came to visit. We celebrated by having dinner at Gary Danko, a fancy restaurant specializing in "haute" cuisine.
fig a: normal vs haute cuisine
|normal cuisine||haute cuisine|
|Fries||Sauteed new potatoes in a rosemary-truffle reduction|
|Ribs||Braised lamb shanks with mustard-arugala relish and truffle-raspberry compote|
|Corn dog||Truffle dog|
Also present at dinner was AJ's ex-roommate, Chuck. Chuck is a good kid, and I wish I saw him more. He's an investment banker, which means he rarely emerges from the gleaming skyscraper downtown where he works. (Legend has it that if an i-banker comes out of the office in winter and sees his shadow, it means another six weeks of bad weather.)
At dinner Chuck told us about his current girlfriend. Her name is "Aubrey Winterbottom". HAHAHAHA! I'm not making that up. I wonder if she's a member of the landed gentry.
Saturday night was Triet & Shawn's housewarming party, featuring Sandeep, Cosmo & Shrey on the decks. A. showed up, which surprised me. I guess our circle of friends has intermingled enough that these days we run into each other on a semi-regular basis. It's always nice to see her, but our conversations are hopelessly superficial. She's still pursuing the Elbo-room type nightlife in the city, whereas I'm growing increasingly intolerant of loud, crowded bars. I think I'll be happy if I never again set foot in a place where there isn't enough room for me to stick out my arms and twirl around. (I'm not saying I'm gonna do this at every bar I go to. I just want the option.)
fig b: me & jtsui, discussing foucault, heidegger and the later works of susan sontag. (me: "blaaaaaargh susan sontag!" jenny: "blaaaaaargh heidegger!")
The rest of the weekend was mostly spent in the company of Miss D. One of the reasons I like being with her is that (cliche ahoy) I can just be myself. My last relationship (um... for those keeping score, I broke up with N. a while back. i may have neglected to mention that. ah well, no one's ever accused this journal of reckless congruity) was marred by the fact that I was constantly swallowing acerbic remarks (about N.'s belief in astrology, her sappy platitudes about love & life, her dismissive attitude towards anything she considered 'nerdy') in the hopes of making things work. With D. I don't have to hold back or constantly try to see things from her point of view. I mean we don't agree about everything, and we definitely don't have the exact same set of interests or tastes. But I'm able to hang out with her and discuss things without feeling like it's a constant struggle to stay engaged. Maybe that doesn't sound like much, but trust me, it is!
It's probably bad form to vent about exs in these pages. But once in a while I feel like using this journal as a journal. Don't worry, tomorrow I'll be back to talking about the usual scintillating subject matter: work, poo and diaryland banners. (I'm getting no love. I thought I'd have like 10,000 new fans by now. WHERE IS THE LOVE?)