I tried my hardest to recollect a time where I was particularly adventurous, or motivated to take a risk.   I’m not much of a whimsical person, I don’t usually venture out of my way to seek artistic payoff.  Maybe I just haven’t had that experience yet.  But this prompt instead took me immediately to a memory of my childhood.

When you’re a kid, theres not much to gossip about, or maybe theres just a lack of curiosity about whats going on in other people’s lives.  Theres a selfishness that kids have, it stems from their inherent innocence, but also an aloofness and unconcern for whats going on around you.  Thats where the recess talk is less about you and I and whats been going on in our lives, and more about games, and stories.  Things that are way more fun to talk about because they’re magic and play, way more entertaining than the monotony of the day. Scary stories especially circled around like rumors.  They were contagious to tell and to hear, but so terrifying, that they were at times unlistenable.  I have memories of asking friends to finish the story of the “Girl with the Green Ribbon Around her Neck” for another time, because I was getting too spooked.  That way we could also have something to talk about next lunch.

Anyway, one of the most famous stories going around was that of Bloody Mary and her game.  If you dared: that is, if you were strong enough, brave enough, or curious enough, you could summon Mary herself.  This would require going into the bathroom, turning the lights off, looking into the mirror and whispering “Bloody Mary” 3 times.  A boy in my summer camp Evan would always say, “you have to whisper it slowly and clearly to make sure she hears you.”  I’d also heard that you had to stare at yourself in the mirror, and not look away.  The thought of doing such a routine alone still sends shivers down my spine.  My 9 year old self was peeing her pants.  But oh the temptation!  The sheer wonder of whether or not she would appear by completing that simple task.

My free time was eaten up with the desire to go into the bathroom, shut the lights, and whisper “Bloody Mary.” I’d think, “what if I did it during the day when I wasn’t scared?” but the possibility alone would petrify me; talk me out of it.  Soon this impulse reduced from being alluring, desiring, to just frightening.  The rumors I’d hear of my friends seeing Bloody Mary, the sheer thought of being in the bathroom in the dark, the thought of what she might do to me! It was all too much.  The thought of her and this game began to haunt me.

One night, I was having a sleepover at my best friend at the time Tia’s house. We used to have flashlight time before lights out, and flicker plastic flashlights around her room while talking before we went to sleep. This flashlight time, we used to talk about our biggest fears.  Naturally, Mary herself was brought up.  Tia lamented that she shared my fear, as well as my yearn to just know.  After a lot of thought and deliberation, we decided together to set things straight.  With the strength of each other, we could finally venture off the beaten path, and see for ourselves if Bloody Mary would show.  If not, we could relieve ourself of this nightmare.  If so…well her dad was in the next room.

As so, we scuttled into the bathroom, hearts beating fast.  We turned the lights off, and shrieked uncontrollably.  I was so nervous, my heart beating so fast, I could barely contain the words down to a whisper.  But we completed the task, whispered her name 3 times. Nothing happened. Silence.  Well, not silence, our giggles, our high from the summon.

Nevertheless my curiosity paid off, and in that moment, I knew Bloody Mary wasn’t real.

I felt like I was going to start off this piece by neurotically excusing why I love Vincent Gallo so much.  Like yeah, he isn’t good guy, he treats the people he works with like shit.  Or, he has a foul mouth.  Or yeah, Roger Ebert famously called his movie Brown Bunny the “worst film in the history of Cannes” (I agree it isn’t good).  Or maybe just that this guy Vincent Gallo is an egotistical maniac that isn’t in touch with the real world.  All of these things may be true, and I may be an asshole myself, but I can’t deny that Vincent Gallo is my hero.  

Sometimes we feel that way about our creative inspirations. Defensive. Its feeling self conscious about the things we truly love out of fear that others would disapprove.  Especially if those inspirations have lived long and eventful lives, and were not necessarily the best versions of themselves the whole way through.  Though, maybe that struggling-artist quality is why we’re often drawn to them.  Except that I would hardly say Gallo is a struggling artist.  I think he’d say he was the best artist to ever roam the planet.  In fact in his early career as a painter, he said, “I stopped painting in 1990 at the peak of my success just to deny people my beautiful paintings, and I did it out of spite.”
There are many reasons why I find Gallo to be absolutely legendary.  I find his obsessive, performative nature as a person (outside of acting) to be both hilarious and amazing.  He takes everything he does extremely seriously, and with passion.  He thrives on conflict and drama in all aspects of his life.  Gallo loves to test the waters and speak his mind, especially if it’s a contentious opinion.  It always is.  Gallo is enamored with the aesthetics of Hollywood, he says “I never wanted to be an actor. I never want to be an actor. I want to be a movie star. The whole idea of having to act is too gruesome. It’s too ambitious for me.” Yet he never needed hollywood press to promote his celebrity.  In fact, an interview with Gallo is so provocative it can cause a publication lot of trouble.  

I love Gallo for more than just his personality.  His self-conceived, written, directed, starred-in, score, and soundtrack-ed film Buffalo ‘66 (1998) will continue to be one of my favorites.  To me, is the essence of cool. This movie is the quintessential independant masterpiece, and remains distinctive and thrilling, mixing worlds of reality and fantasy.  The themes of the movie are of revenge, an ode to America and blue collar-life.  The way it looks alone, containing some of the best looking images shot by another personal favorite Lance Accord.  It will always be one of my favorites.

Vincent Gallo isn’t always right, he isn’t always sensible, and he’s honestly rarely telling the truth.  But it doesn’t stop him from being an unforgettable influence on my mind.

 

(If anyone is interested, my favorite Gallo interview is with Howard Stern https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aW9LMFgrqek)

 

I began writing this with an intention that seems to be common in most food writers who try and attack the idea of “viral food.”  Many blog posts and food reviews I have read tend to beg the question, “how is viral food possible?”  Living in NYC, a place that is both one of the biggest food hubs of the world, and simultaneously one of the trendiest places out there, I feel like I could take a stab at the world of trendy foods (even if I don’t partake in eating them).  But as I began writing out my curiosities among how food trends came to be, I scrapped my writing, because it seems so uninteresting.  If you think about it, it’s perfectly possible that food can become viral, because we’ve seen that “being viral” isn’t so unthinkable after all.  After we accept that the internet and all its craziness is a thing that exists, we can realize that virality is just the internet’s way of expressing a common interest.  Popularity!  “Going viral” is just something online that trends.  And, since everyone has access to everything nowadays, whatever looks the prettiest or most unique simply gets looked at (and probably copied) by millions of people. If you really think about it, this system seems like the perfect one for food, something that humans have always had a natural affinity and devotion to.  

So, instead of cheaply wondering how is this possible? I’ll skip ahead and just critique the idea  of viral food by saying its gross.  Every food trend I have seen looks gross. Like a terribly unpalatable thing to put inside one’s mouth.  Food culture has advanced so greatly, and I would even say with the help of online virality.  But doesn’t this mean food should be tastier? In most cases yes, but in more cases, somehow, no.  

Here are some of the words viral food trends: 

1. Combining food items: Sushi Burritos, Cheesy Taco Pasta, Pizza stuffed Burgers…They can all go straight to the trash.  I feel like I can occasionally let the meshing of cultures slide, such as dashing a little Sriracha on your bacon/egg/cheese,  but I’ve seen this step taken way too far. There is this stoner mentality that two cravings combined creates the ultimate delight, however this couldn’t be farther from the truth. Leave cravings be.  Separate but equal mentality can work here. No Guacamole stuffed Onion rings.  
2. Rainbow stuff: Making something colorful does not make something delicious.  In my opinion, it literally sucks the deliciousness out of the food item.  “Unicorn colors” is a trend, but what is even crazier than that alone, is the fact that it is seeping into savory dishes.  Colors like blue, purple, and pink are already unnatural, so we usually associate them with sugary, processed desserts like cotton candy or ice cream.  A rainbow bagel with scallion cream cheese, is however, blasphemous.

Instead of a third pick, I’ll rapidfire name a few shocking crowd favorites:
Huge stuff like jumbo burgers and a lb. glob of cheese over a plate of food, jiggly pancakes, microbreweries, cookie dough raw? Savory stuff that isn’t supposed to be savory like corn ice cream, food with weed in it, gold flakes, massive pizza slices with anything from tacos to pasta to chicken wings used as toppings, purple food, “show-stopping” sundaes, and pitch black food items such as ice cream and water.  

 

Everyday I hear a new friend talking about the new TV show they’re onto next, or why reality TV is so addicting, and what I take from the national need to binge watch is that it’s all for the drama. Drama is pure entertainment.  It’s the surprise of it, the twists and turns it entails… Most importantly, its the idea that you can invest into someone else’s life and try to predict what is going to happen in it.  It makes people go crazy!  But of course, I too, am a victim to it.  These kinds of tactics implemented on television are undeniably amusing.  But what I feel like most of my friends sitting in their apartment on a Netflix bender don’t realize, is the fact that these tactics also happen to be the DEFINITION of sports television.  

Oh, the drama!  

Basketball is my favorite.  You can theorize all you want, and root for one team all you want, but nobody truly knows the outcome of the game.  What is going to happen in between those four quarters, let alone in the season, let alone in the Championship Playoffs, is a complete mystery. And being invested in your special team makes all the difference when taking part in the journey of each season. Growing up in LA, I can reminisce on the glory of having Kobe Bryant on the Lakers.  The memories of success for our team in the 2010 Finals when we gruesomely battled the Boston Celtics. I want to remember it like it was yesterday.  This game–Game 7–meant everything, because it was yet another Lakers-Celtics Finals battle, one that Kobe was more desperate to win than ever.  He needed to win to stick it to the Celtics team that had embarrassed him two years earlier with a 4-2 series win, and a brutal 39-point victory in Game 6.  He also needed to show that he could beat his personal demons and hatred of the Celtics by winning it all himself.  No Shaq, no nothing.  Black Mamba only…he was such a devil.  Nobody has ever before seen such power, motivation, control, driven by such a force of hatred and evil.  He wanted to be the bad guy and he was.  

But despite this drive, the Lakers were struggling in the first half.  Kobe especially, with a horrid 6-for-24 shooting performance.  Los Angeles needed an answer and we needed it fast.

And there, in the blink of an eye, with only 60 seconds left in the final round, we saw a fucking miracle.  In what I would call a defining moment of my childhood, and simultaneously the defining moment of Ron Artest’s career, he rescued Kobe like Hercules and SUNK a 3-pointer over the outstretched hand of Paul Pierce. This was everything we needed to secure our second straight championship. 79-73. 

Moving to New York makes watching the game different. This is because moving from home to anywhere for that matter, sort of just makes things different.  But of course, a natural and necessary part of life is adjustment.  With adjustment comes a familiarity to the new, and with this familiarity comes a comfortability.  

Now, the Lakers are the third to last standing in performance this season. Have been for a few now.  

Now, I have to watch west coast games at 10pm because of the time difference, which makes for a 1 AM night, depending on overtime.

Now, the city that I live in represents two of the least interesting teams in my opinion.

But! I wouldn’t change a thing. Things just might change for me…and that’s okay.