I love bicycles. I'm actually looking at mine right now through the window of the 61C, a coffeehouse named for the bus line it's on. She's a work of art now, although not nearly complete. I put bullhorn bars on last week with mountain bike brake levers--I decided I just really don't need drop bars, and didn't like the ergonomic design of the ones I had. These are lighter and more upright. I'm waiting for the proper brake levers to come in the mail, which will actually plug into the bar ends instead of clamping onto the bars, so I'll have a much larger selection of riding positions (that's sort of what it's about, being able to put your hands in different places to avoid fatigue). Eventually I'll have the cables out of the way, underneath bar wraps. Right now it's bare metal with brake cables all over the place.
I went to Avalon today. I got some low-top Chucks for twelve bucks. I feel like a champion. Also, new pants. Every pair of jeans I own has a pair of holes in the back from where they get stretched out by my bike saddle. It's getting to be a little obscene.
Speaking of riding, it's getting cold. This is going to be the first winter I've really ridden in (I haven't even really been riding for a year!) and I'm really catching onto what's important. Wearing tons of layers isn't so important as keeping your extremities covered--I find myself getting overheated even below freezing when I have a lot of clothing on, but fine when my ears, face and hands are covered fairly well. I actually like it quite a bit more than riding in the summer--I'm less of a mess when I get to my destination. Being sniffly isn't as gross as being drenched in sweat.
Coffee is nice. It's five o'clock right now and this is the first cup I've had today, and I can really feel myself becoming a nicer person. I'm kind of caustic and socially awkward when I'm going through caffeine withdrawal.
Everything seems so much clearer when it's cold. Like the world is one big icy mirror that shows us ourselves in everything we do.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Monday, November 05, 2007
Your results:
You are Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)
Click here to take the "Which Serenity character are you?" quiz...
You are Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)
| Honest and a defender of the innocent. You sometimes make mistakes in judgment but you are generally good and would protect your crew from harm.  |
Click here to take the "Which Serenity character are you?" quiz...
Sunday, November 04, 2007
dried ancho chillis
Life can be chaotic. In fact, it almost always is, in some way. We're always trying to get to some point we haven't reached yet, buy something we don't own, go somewhere we haven't been, or kiss someone we haven't met. Human nature and satisfaction don't really seem to mix, at first glance. After all, what is life except what we do between transitions? Sometimes it seems like existence is nothing but a cycle of getting what we want, then losing it and finding something else again.
We're really all just looking for stability, even though none of us can define what that really means. Stability can be a month's rent, or sitting in your new home after you've moved everything in, or waking up with someone over and over and over. It can be gasping for air when your head comes out of the water. It can even be letting go every once in awhile, and just seeing what happens, even though no one likes to admit it.
What life really ought to be is a mixture of chaos and stability. Legume Bistro is a constant for me. It's a ritual, a bike ride the same way every day, a smell that I can never forget. But it's also hectic, painful, overwhelming, and sometimes it can seem short-term. It's a lot like love, or friendships, or school, or like being in a band. We have good times and bad times.
I know I haven't written a lot in the past month, or in the past year or two for that matter. I need to start again. Talking about life like this is a tremendous source of rationality and makes me understand why people write in their journals about the stupidest little things. It's good as something to reflect on, but more importantly, I think it tells me about who I am right now.
Right now I am John Gray Heidelmeier. I am the sous-chef of a very young restaurant. I'm not a bad cook, but I have a lot to learn about food and managing people. I love cooking unconditionally but don't know if it's what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to sing again and if I could ever make a career out of it, I would.
I love bicycles, because they make me feel like I'm flying. Also, they're full of moving parts that are fun to disassemble and they make me feel strong. The cycling community is also completely riddled with beautiful, long-legged women.
I live in a very big apartment that I'm really proud of with a girl who I split up with recently. I had a really good time with her, and learned a lot about myself, but it couldn't last, and was something I did as a result of one of those transitions in my life. We actually make pretty good roommates, although she's moving out eventually. Diane and I are back together now. We made pancakes this morning, and I dug up my plants from the garden and put them back in my pots so they'll stay alive when it gets cold. I love her.
I love Pittsburgh. I think I'd be okay with living here for a few more years in its charming, unique little neighborhoods. The public transit is pretty good. I might want to go to New York, but I don't want to live far outside the city or pay half my income to my landlord. In any case, a place with flatter, more well-maintained roads could work out. Wheels, tires and tubes are expensive.
I don't really like going out too much. I am most in my element at home, leaning over the stove or having a few beers or being with someone I love. I also love sitting in coffeehouses like this one, where I like to clear my mind of all the crazy shit floating around in it. I'm not crazy about people, and only have a few close friends who I choose carefully.
I am very, very monogamous. I'm also a little bit old-fashioned. I like to open doors for women and take care of them a little bit, and consider modern feminism to be a little scary.
I'm kind of a nihilist, and don't really try to save the world. I believe it's going to end, maybe in my lifetime and maybe not, and all I really give a shit about is having a good time before, and maybe after that happens. As much as I try to ride my bike because it saves the planet, it's really because I never got a driver's license, could never afford a car, and don't want to get fat. I still go to the local grocery store and then throw away my plastic bags when I get home.
So, that's who I am, and that's what life means to me. I guess it's been awhile since I've stepped back a little, you know?
We're really all just looking for stability, even though none of us can define what that really means. Stability can be a month's rent, or sitting in your new home after you've moved everything in, or waking up with someone over and over and over. It can be gasping for air when your head comes out of the water. It can even be letting go every once in awhile, and just seeing what happens, even though no one likes to admit it.
What life really ought to be is a mixture of chaos and stability. Legume Bistro is a constant for me. It's a ritual, a bike ride the same way every day, a smell that I can never forget. But it's also hectic, painful, overwhelming, and sometimes it can seem short-term. It's a lot like love, or friendships, or school, or like being in a band. We have good times and bad times.
I know I haven't written a lot in the past month, or in the past year or two for that matter. I need to start again. Talking about life like this is a tremendous source of rationality and makes me understand why people write in their journals about the stupidest little things. It's good as something to reflect on, but more importantly, I think it tells me about who I am right now.
Right now I am John Gray Heidelmeier. I am the sous-chef of a very young restaurant. I'm not a bad cook, but I have a lot to learn about food and managing people. I love cooking unconditionally but don't know if it's what I want to do for the rest of my life. I want to sing again and if I could ever make a career out of it, I would.
I love bicycles, because they make me feel like I'm flying. Also, they're full of moving parts that are fun to disassemble and they make me feel strong. The cycling community is also completely riddled with beautiful, long-legged women.
I live in a very big apartment that I'm really proud of with a girl who I split up with recently. I had a really good time with her, and learned a lot about myself, but it couldn't last, and was something I did as a result of one of those transitions in my life. We actually make pretty good roommates, although she's moving out eventually. Diane and I are back together now. We made pancakes this morning, and I dug up my plants from the garden and put them back in my pots so they'll stay alive when it gets cold. I love her.
I love Pittsburgh. I think I'd be okay with living here for a few more years in its charming, unique little neighborhoods. The public transit is pretty good. I might want to go to New York, but I don't want to live far outside the city or pay half my income to my landlord. In any case, a place with flatter, more well-maintained roads could work out. Wheels, tires and tubes are expensive.
I don't really like going out too much. I am most in my element at home, leaning over the stove or having a few beers or being with someone I love. I also love sitting in coffeehouses like this one, where I like to clear my mind of all the crazy shit floating around in it. I'm not crazy about people, and only have a few close friends who I choose carefully.
I am very, very monogamous. I'm also a little bit old-fashioned. I like to open doors for women and take care of them a little bit, and consider modern feminism to be a little scary.
I'm kind of a nihilist, and don't really try to save the world. I believe it's going to end, maybe in my lifetime and maybe not, and all I really give a shit about is having a good time before, and maybe after that happens. As much as I try to ride my bike because it saves the planet, it's really because I never got a driver's license, could never afford a car, and don't want to get fat. I still go to the local grocery store and then throw away my plastic bags when I get home.
So, that's who I am, and that's what life means to me. I guess it's been awhile since I've stepped back a little, you know?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Not much is new here. I'm having a pretty good time with myself aside from the persistent warm weather. Be cold, Pennsylvania! Don't be shy!
I got a new bicycle today. She's a beauty. Actually, she's an entry-level roadbike with department store components. But she's a beauty. And she's modern--not 30 years old. So now, instead of buying an old-fashioned, low-end component every month to keep myself on the road, I can jump on those Campagnolo derailleurs and cassettes and cranksets when I see them selling for peanuts, because they'll be compatible with my frame.
I need help coming up with a name.
I got a new bicycle today. She's a beauty. Actually, she's an entry-level roadbike with department store components. But she's a beauty. And she's modern--not 30 years old. So now, instead of buying an old-fashioned, low-end component every month to keep myself on the road, I can jump on those Campagnolo derailleurs and cassettes and cranksets when I see them selling for peanuts, because they'll be compatible with my frame.
I need help coming up with a name.
Saturday, October 06, 2007
it's like ninety degrees outside
I'm really stressed out.
It's the first time I've ever said it and meant it, I think. I may go and ride my bike in a minute, or maybe I'll just stay on the couch and try to relax for the rest of the night. I'll be up late, definitely. I always am.
Shut the fuck up, somebody's car alarm!
Okay, that's over. There just aren't enough hours in the day, you know? There really aren't. That and, the human body eventually needs to rest and recuperate. Those are the two obstacles in the way of my life right now.
The job is good, it really is. I'm perfectly happy with cooking twelve hours a day, coming in before I'm asked to and creating really great food. The food right now is amazing, by the way. We overhauled the menu completely this week, adding homemade pasta and replacing some of our simpler cut-it-open-and-grill-it dishes with complicated braises, involving pan sauces and some serious moves during, and before service. It's a lot of work. There's always something to be done, and when everything is done, there are things that you can do to get ahead for the next day. But I feel like it's worth it. The food is the most important thing. And the only thing I really know about food for sure, really and truly--more than I know how to caramelize an onion, or cook rice properly--is that it takes a lot of hard work and patience.
When that stuff is done, there's service, so you have to quit thinking about how much prep there will be tomorrow to run a constant set of priorities in your head for five hours straight. Can I send out these small tables before the twelve-top? Should I plate up all these tables at once, or stagger them? Did I fire enough chickens? Am I short something? Did I miss the temp on a steak, and need to pull one of my fucking magic chef's hat in thirty seconds? Did a server forget something, and do they need me to fix it?
Do customers know that if they want to write their own Goddamn menus, they can either open up their own restaurant or go to someplace that's willing to deal with them? No, we don't have any asparagus to substitute for the roasted squash! First of all, it's fucking October and asparagus are NOT IN SEASON! Second, the menu's on the front door. If you don't want to come in and let us serve you a nice meal that we've worked our asses off to prepare for you the way we see to be fit, being professionals, just don't bother. I mean, what the hell gives people the right to treat employees of the service industry the way they do?
Fucking god damn shit, FUCK!
It's the first time I've ever said it and meant it, I think. I may go and ride my bike in a minute, or maybe I'll just stay on the couch and try to relax for the rest of the night. I'll be up late, definitely. I always am.
Shut the fuck up, somebody's car alarm!
Okay, that's over. There just aren't enough hours in the day, you know? There really aren't. That and, the human body eventually needs to rest and recuperate. Those are the two obstacles in the way of my life right now.
The job is good, it really is. I'm perfectly happy with cooking twelve hours a day, coming in before I'm asked to and creating really great food. The food right now is amazing, by the way. We overhauled the menu completely this week, adding homemade pasta and replacing some of our simpler cut-it-open-and-grill-it dishes with complicated braises, involving pan sauces and some serious moves during, and before service. It's a lot of work. There's always something to be done, and when everything is done, there are things that you can do to get ahead for the next day. But I feel like it's worth it. The food is the most important thing. And the only thing I really know about food for sure, really and truly--more than I know how to caramelize an onion, or cook rice properly--is that it takes a lot of hard work and patience.
When that stuff is done, there's service, so you have to quit thinking about how much prep there will be tomorrow to run a constant set of priorities in your head for five hours straight. Can I send out these small tables before the twelve-top? Should I plate up all these tables at once, or stagger them? Did I fire enough chickens? Am I short something? Did I miss the temp on a steak, and need to pull one of my fucking magic chef's hat in thirty seconds? Did a server forget something, and do they need me to fix it?
Do customers know that if they want to write their own Goddamn menus, they can either open up their own restaurant or go to someplace that's willing to deal with them? No, we don't have any asparagus to substitute for the roasted squash! First of all, it's fucking October and asparagus are NOT IN SEASON! Second, the menu's on the front door. If you don't want to come in and let us serve you a nice meal that we've worked our asses off to prepare for you the way we see to be fit, being professionals, just don't bother. I mean, what the hell gives people the right to treat employees of the service industry the way they do?
Fucking god damn shit, FUCK!