vegan restaurants in baltimore

a tight collective has been working on this collaborative document to create as a reference for vegan restaurants in the greater baltimore area.

o-cha

perhaps one of the most mundane, yet satisfying, rituals that i engage in is drinking green tea all day long. previous to living in japan, i had enjoyed green tea on a semi-regular basis--purchasing bulk loose leaf at wheatsfield co-op-- and boiling water, dousing it over a tea ball jammed with leaves. the usual purchase there was the cheapest green tea they had, gunpowder.

in oregon, i found a website of an organic chinese grower that had connections in british columbia, and i would special order organic gunpowder for about $15 a pound. it took me about 4 months to pile through a pound.

then in japan, i learned of the subtle joy of sencha, which is the common everyday green tea of the archipelago. i also learned of the brewing rule of two: boil water for two minutes, turn off heat and let kettle sit for two minutes, then pour water over leaves in tea pot and let steep for two minutes for a perfect brew.

blinded

i detest general overhead lighting. the blinding glow of incandescence from a light fixture suspended in the middle of the ceiling; the off-white strobe flicker from the fluorescent tubes--ugh.

these things have purpose, yes, but i greatly prefer the subdued canned spot lighting that has purpose yet is tame. better yet, lamps. shaded lamps are the bomb. soothing, warm light with utility.

something fantastic

i saw something unusual and yet altogether glorious the other day. as i was biking up to a building on campus, the roar of a car stereo--windows tightly rolled up--got louder and louder as i approached. i was soon able to identify "mr. brownstone" by g'n'r, baby. the fidelity of the car stereo was near full capacity, engine off. somebody just wanted to finish rockin' the tune. don't blame 'em.

then i came upon the specific car, a silver mercedes, with a middle-aged blonde woman wearing a grey business suit seemed to be savoring the last few licks from slash as axl professed that "he won't leave me alone." perplexed, i ventured on and found a place to lock up my bike, yet still in full earshot of the tunes. then, just as quickly as the song started to taper to an end--click, boom, clack, clack, clack--she nixed the supplemental battery power and extinguished the music and hopped out of her car to quickly saunter up to the building she was parked outside of. it appeared that the timing of "mr. brownstone" may have caused her to be late. very nice.

the best chase scene ever...

godzilla, santa, golf carts, twisted sister, and p.w.? brilliance in the history of cinematography, with a fine musical score by danny elfman to boot.

i was a teenage poser

in the spring of 1987, i was a chubby kid in 7th grade. i had a few friends, a good family, a newborn sister, and my eyebrows hadn't filled in yet. it was a confusing time of pressure to conform with the culture set out by the other 7th graders, as the social hierarchy was striating as it usually does. for the first time in my life, i had begun to feel self-conscious about my appearance and my clothes. i managed to convince my parents that my future was dependent upon me getting a polo shirt, just like the other kids.

so we went to younkers and i bought a pale yellow ralph lauren that was on the sale rack. i wore this shirt proudly the following day. my wardrobe increased one afternoon, when my father had found two more polo shirts at a garage sale. i was up to three, and near a full week's rotation. nice.

anyway, around this same time period skateboarding became über hip. i found that the other boys wearing polo shirts were now toting a fine line of powell-peralta designer boards--not that i ever remember them riding them much, they were a fine accessory otherwise. i first got a target (you know, the discount store) board and was a closet skater. i actually spray painted all over the non-brand markings to further cover my shame. alas, within a few months of saving i was able to secure $50 bucks necessary to purchase a lance mountain board as pictured here:

i would regularly skate with a few kids in the neighborhood to work on my skills. but most of my fond memories with the board were skating to the bus stop with juanny d. and hopping on the bus to go downtown to the skate shop to look at the new boards and stickers, all whilst wearing a pale yellow polo shirt i neglected to add. years later, we put our pride aside and determined that we were indeed, posers. i also had rounded out the fad by regularly reading thrasher magazine which was and still is good fun.

i was not disingenuous to my desire and curiosity to skate board, or to be a prep for that matter, but i was certainly immune to the awareness of the pressures that i was feeling to harmonize with the masses and file into line. obviously, life becomes a compromise of determining when to stand in line, when to sit it out, when to run away, and when to lead. fond memories and essential life lessons, skateboarding taught me.

local flav

before visiting "bawlmer" it would be wise to brush up on local vernacular and cultural dynamic. please note the esteemed local cuisine, including: the blue crab (which no longer thrives in the chesapeake bay and is harvested from southeast asia and/or the gulf of mexico) and the world famous "chicken box!"

anticipation of a new toy

yesterday, the annual membership packet came from rei. in a tri-fold announcement tucked cleverly inside a pocket of the packet was the golden ticket, my annual dividend check from the co-op. profits were good last year. now i've got to make a trip out to the rei toy store to spend the dividend returns on either something for my bicycle or my fav polypro tees in the world. they last forever, and i really should graduate one or two out of the rotation filling them in with a froshy.