New York | The Hexacoto

September 10, 2013

So much sassafras, New York Times

Image taken from New York Time’s A Viewer’s Guide to the N.Y.C Mayoral Candidates

The New York Time’s coverage of New York’s mayoral elections is surprisingly… sassy. They’ve summarised each candidate by categories such as by their boldest idea pitched or their biggest blunder so far. Take a look at the some of the cheek the Times has put into describing each candidate.

Boldest idea

Weiner: Single-payer, universal health care in New York City.
De Blasio: Universal prekindergarten, paid for by a tax on those earning more than $500,000.
Albanese: Variable toll prices on bridges, based on hour of the day and availability of mass transit.
Quinn: Building 80,000 new units of affordable housing.
Liu: Raising the minimum wage to $11.50 an hour.
Salgado: Creating a city-issued identification card for undocumented immigrants.
Thompson Jr.: Hiring 2,000 new police officers.
Lhota: Transferring control of bridges and tunnels from the M.T.A. to city government.
McDonald: Get the city to buy from local suppliers.
Catsimatidis: Bringing the World’s Fair back to New York.
Carrion Jr: Giving parents online access to student academic and disciplinary records.

Biggest blunder

Weiner: Where to begin?
De Blasio: Keeping a campaign staff member who sympathized with a killer of four people and cursed at the Police Department on Twitter.
Albanese: Hasn’t committed it yet, but we are watching.
Quinn: Opposing family-friendly paid sick-leave legislation until its backers outmaneuvered her. Can women forget that?
Liu: Incessantly reminding voters of the scandal surrounding his campaign.
Salgado: We’ll tell you once candidate forums start allowing him on stage.
Thompson Jr.: “No new tax” pledge may be impossible to keep. (See police officers, 2,000 new.)
Lhota: Calling Bloomberg an “idiot” in earshot of a reporter.
McDonald: Scaring off donors by breaking campaign finance rules.
Catsimatidis: Hmm. His plan to give bullies their own school?
Carrion Jr: Failure to persuade Republican leaders to let him on their ballot.

What you will find endearing

Weiner: The candor of a man with nothing left to lose.
De Blasio: His son’s epic Afro.
Albanese: Refuses to take donations from lobbyists or developers.
Quinn: Having a lesbian with that accent in Gracie Mansion.
Liu: His brothers are all named after a Kennedy.
Salgado: Ends conversations with “God bless you.”
Thompson Jr.: His earnest attempts at Yiddish.
Lhota: Tipsy posts on Twitter, like this one: “Oops! Yankees 10 (not 18), Sox 3 (too much wine).”
McDonald: The story of the Doe Fund, his nonprofit job-training organization.
Catsimatidis: His tendency to tear up at any moment, Boehner-style.
Carrion Jr: A fluency in Spanish now missing from City Hall.

What will grate on you

Weiner: Four months of penis puns in The New York Post.
De Blasio: Occasionally lapses into liberal-activist speak.
Albanese: Sometimes holier-than-thou claims of independence.
Quinn: That wall-piercing laugh. Just wait for it.
Liu: Populism that can border on pandering.
Salgado: Depending on perspective, the intermingling of faith and politics.
Thompson Jr.: Does he ask a lot of rhetorical questions? Yes, he does.
Lhota: Mr. Giuliani’s return to the campaign trail.
McDonald: The candor of a first-time candidate. Asked about Asian businesses, he praised his local masseur for cheap relaxation.
Catsimatidis: Mangled syntax.
Carrion Jr: Dull debate performances.

Relationship with Bloomberg

Weiner: Antagonistic.
De Blasio: Chilly.
Albanese: Nonexistent.
Quinn: It’s complicated.
Liu: Outright hostile.
Salgado: Once stood next to him for a photograph.
Thompson Jr.: As variable as the weather.
Lhota: Technocratic kinship.
McDonald: Philanthropic. The mayor donates to his charity.
Catsimatidis: Billionaire neighbors.
Carrion Jr.: Cordial.

Nightmare scenario

Weiner: TMZ tracks down that sixth woman.
De Blasio: Anthony D. Weiner enters the race.
Albanese: Finishing last.
Quinn: Becoming another Bella Abzug, who was the race’s undisputed star in 1977 but squandered her commanding lead.
Liu: Taking the stand in the trial of his former campaign treasurer.
Salgado: Mr. Sharpton leaves MSNBC and runs for mayor (again).
Thompson Jr.: Black voters defect to another liberal, like Bill de Blasio, whose wife is black.
Lhota: New Yorkers fall in love with John Catsimatidis.
McDonald: Will be forced to give back thousands in campaign contributions.
Catsimatidis: Major food poisoning outbreak is traced back to Gristedes.
Carrion Jr.: Latino Democrats somehow hear about Mr. Salgado.

Bottom line

Weiner: Mayoral campaigning as group therapy.
De Blasio: With the right campaign, he can squeak into the runoff.
Albanese: His best shot was probably in 1997.
Quinn: She is the front-runner. Until she isn’t.
Liu: Long hours on the trail will only take him so far.
Salgado: Pray for him.
Thompson Jr.: Expect a late surge to put him in the runoff. (His rivals do.)
Lhota: Long-shot Republicans have a knack for becoming mayor in this city.
McDonald: If lightning strikes.
Catsimatidis: It will, at the very least, be entertaining.
Carrion Jr.: He is a Republican nominee’s dream — unlikely to win, but certain to lure away Democratic voters.

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September 5, 2013

The most hassling form of instant food

The instant ramen noodles are supposed to be quick, painless, and above-all, hassle-free. But when someone came up with the idea of turning ramen into burgers, what he ended up with was a craze that caught New York and the internet by storm.

Since they were introduced into the Western world (there have been several ramen burgers floating around Japan years already), people have put up recipes on how to make their own, since getting in line for one in New York takes hours.

I simply took one of the recipes online and made it, and I must say for the effort, the result was underwhelming.

It tasted alright; it took a little getting used to to biting into a soft noodle cake rather than a firmer bread bun, and implementing umami into the burger by adding scallions and soy sauce made it taste like the Asian meatballs my grandmother used to make.

But multiple skillets and pots were used in the process, many ramekins and much counter space were sullied in the attempt to create this — the exact antithesis of the instant ramen: mess-free.

Would I make it again? Maybe for a hoot to impress somebody. Would I make it again for myself? I don’t think I would.

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September 1, 2013

New York Unicycle Fest 2013 day 3 recap

All photo credits Unatics (NYUC)

Today is marked pain, lots of pain. I woke up with a numb toe, and my back is somewhat stiff.

But today also marks the last day of the three-day NYC Unicycle Festival, and it would probably be another year before I get to see some of the people involved in the festival, or that many people coming together to practice unicycling. It might be another year before I get to play unicycle-hockey.

And thus, i return to Governor’s Island for the final day of the festival. Here’s with what I came home:

Sprained neck (can’t look to the left)
Skinned knuckles (right thumb and fourth finger)
Scraped shins
Scuffed elbow
Sore ankles
Scratches on my shoulder

Notice a bit of an alliterative pattern here?

Unicycle-hockey was intense because 1) The weather was incredibly humid and hot 2) The ground comprised cracks and loose gravel/sand 3) Some of the players weren’t particularly concerned if their sticks were hitting ball or human. Got roughed up a little there.

They changed up the unicycle-sumo rules, so that they are more in line with proper uni-sumo rules. Thus, instead of them rushing into the ring and knocking the opponent out with their weight and momentum, they’ve changed to using grappling to throw the opponent out of the ring or off of their unicycles, making the gameplay a lot more interesting to watch and participate. I had a lot of fun going against the Texans this time, even though I still lost to the person pictured above, as he still outweighed me, and I accepted my defeat. I still took some tumbles from uni-sumo, and added to the list of injuries suffered today.

I sat out of unicycle-football again because I didn’t want to die, and for the most part the day was less crowded than yesterday, and I took it pretty easy for the most part. I even had time to exchange pointers on doing pirouettes and discussing Asian-style freestyle.

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August 31, 2013

New York Unicycle Fest 2013 day 2 recap

All photo credits Unatics (NYUC)

I am sore all over, but I think it was worth it. This is the fourth year of the festival and coming back is like returning to a group of friends whom you know will be there. This year, they brought back unicycle-sumo, and introduced unicycle-football (American), played by a group of people who drove all the way up from Texas for this festival.

Unicycle-sumo and unicycle basketball were among some of the things I did, and they were interesting experiences, although the Texans who participated sort of made things kind of violent; their version of uni-sumo involved two sides simply ramming into each other from a distance, which isn’t really what uni-sumo is supposed to be.

I had a couple of scrapes from when I was bounced off my unicycle, for being severely out-weighted by the Texans. I challenged them to proper grappling rules (no ramming into your opponent, establishing hand contact before starting the match) and things became more evenly-matched.

I was roped into doing a makeshift performance with Kyle to open the skills demonstration. I guess my skills are getting recognised at this point? Looking forward to unicycle-hockey tomorrow; I’ve basically been waiting all year to be able to play it again.

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August 30, 2013

New York Unicycle Fest 2013 day 1 recap

There is nothing more heartening than a community recognising you and your name, even after what has been essentially a year since you last met or even talked.

The New York Unicycle Festival is now in its fourth year, and over time I have come to be recognised under a couple names, such as my own, or “Thundercalves,” or “that Asian person.”

On the first day of the festival, which was yesterday, there is usually a 13-mile ride from City Hall, Manhattan, across the Brooklyn Bridge into Coney Island. I usually end up leading the front simply because I go way too fast. This year, since I got a flat in my 29″ tire from my foray into Long Island, I was unable to join the long distance ride, but I took my 20″ and made it to the boardwalk by subway anyway, thinking that there might be an open-air demonstration of skills.

There wasn’t that, but there was Kyle Petersen’s show, which Shah’s dad kindly bought a ticket for me to go watch. The show was okay. I got a free ride on the Wonder Wheel!

But what I cherish most about this festival is always the familiarity of seeing friends, being recognised by them, and getting to hang out, chat, chat and exchange skills with people whom I’ve not seen in a year.

Today is the second day of the festival, on Governor’s Island. I’m going to be there to help out if they need help, and do some teaching if need be. Come to the island and attend the festival!

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August 24, 2013

Long Islanders love garage sales

It’s been a while since I last did a long-distance unicycle ride, but I decided to go visit my friend on Long Island, and that’d give me an excuse to do some long-distance. The route would have been about 67 km/41 miles. I was to start in Queens and meet him at the Three Village Shopping Center just north of Stony Brook University. Because WordPress.com does not allow embeddable live maps, here’s a picture of the route. Scroll to the bottom to skip to the stats.

You’ll come to realise that the trip stopped at 58km, that’s because I got a flat tire and had to stop. And I was so close! I had about 9km to go and I was forced to stop.

My rations for the trip: GPS, a book for the train journey back (I wasn’t going to ride all that distance back!), extra batteries for the GPS, my wallet and phone, MP3 player, 2 Snickers bars, 2 litres of water, some nuts, potato salad, and a Nintendo 3DS to see how many steps the pedometer in the 3DS registers the journey as.

I started out in Queens, since I figured if I were going to hang out with my friend, I probably shouldn’t be completely pooped out by the time I arrive. Had I left from my apartment in Brooklyn instead of Queens, that would have added an additional 13km to the journey, making it 80km total, which would have wiped me out.

Queens roads are the absolutely terrible; potholes, roads that are not level, cracks, and glass shards. I was worried my legs would be over-taxed early into the journey. I unicycled past lampposts that was utterly covered in staples and nails, and a really cute barn-like pit stop. This was all still in Queens.

My first stop outside of Queens was this town called East Williston; it has a pretty church and a pretty train station. That’s about it. The rest of the journey alternated between boring suburban towns, some fairly nice neighbourhoods with ritzy residences and industrial towns.

I ended up on the expressway and panicked a little — I thought I was lost and was not supposed to be on it. Luckily, when I saw some other bicyclists on it too, I relaxed. Other highlights of the trip include numerous fresh produce farms and when I made a wrong turn and ended up on King’s Park Wharf.

The journey was on the overall not too hard, until the last leg after I got lost, where it was killer hills, rocky roads and more killer hills. In fact, that was probably why I had the puncture, from going downhill a little too quickly on a rocky road on a killer hill.

Here are some stats summing up the entire trip.

Total elapsed time: 4 hours 36 minutes
Total moving time: 3 hours 37 minutes
Total stopped time: 58 minutes
Maximum speed: 29km/h
Total UPD’s: 2 (One downhill, one when I hit a sand bank)
Total roadkill count: 14
Total garage sale count: 11
Steps counted by the 3DS: 29,611
Breaks taken: 5

I unicycled into Long Island and all I came back with is a weird tanline.

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August 10, 2013

Just Unlike everyone else

“Look at everyone on this train, on their daily commute, fuelling the veins of this city. The city’s lifeblood, as it were, yet each is so individually lifeless.

I sit here, glancing around, looking at the eyes of those who sit around me. What do they see? If you look long and hard enough into their eyes (without them noticing, of course), you’ll see yourself reflected in their eyes. And frankly, I fear that seems to be all they see.

Eyes that do not look beyond their phone displays, eyes that, by being buried in books, seeks solace from the anguish of having to acknowledge another when they make contact. Eyes that prefer the brief respite of a commuter’s siesta.

Such hubris I bear for being so self-aware.

The one foot distance that separates those who sit across me might as well be a chasm insurmountable. The woman who sits next to me, straight-backed and proper, twiddles and twitches her finger, taking care to avoid accidentally catching anyone’s eye, lest she has to give them back.

What is that man with his hands on his chin, shades on his face, earphones plugged in, thinking, seeing, hearing?

Everyone unthinking, unseeing, unlistening, uncaring,” thought I, as I put on my earphones and sunglasses, picked up my briefcase and got off at my station on my way to work.

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July 23, 2013

Invitations of a candle

Little moth, O little moth,
will you dance with me?
I sparkle and shine
all pretty and bright;
a beacon in the night.

Brave moth, O brave moth,
do I not inspire?
My flickering ways
set your passions aflame;
your goals, ambitions, aims.

Never mind the pile
of charred moths before you
lying at my foot.

Because you, illuminated and blinded
by my warm light
cease to be a moth for a night,
but become a butterfly
like they who flutter by;
unfazed, unhurried,
because you, with your Icarus wings,
know that you can make it.

So come and dance with me.

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July 22, 2013

Sorrowful Rice 黯然销魂饭

I tried making my own char siew, or Chinese barbecue roast pork, for the first time today. People usually buy them because nobody owns a spit and a fire pit, but I learnt that you can actually cook it in the oven, and char it on the stove top!

Given that I now have a batch of char siew, a natural dish to make with it would be what is known as “Sorrowful Rice” or 黯然销魂饭. The dish is essentially regular ol’ char siew rice, or char siew over steamed white rice, with a side of a sunny-side up and some vegetables.

“Sorrowful Rice” is actually the name of a dish from a movie, God of Cookery (食神).

In it, the protagonist Stephen Chow competes in a competition and strives to create the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. He reaches into his sorrow and memory of a woman, who made him a bowl of char siew rice when he was downtrodden, and she supposedly took a bullet for him. With that, he created the “Sorrowful Rice.”

The sorrow is apparently onions.

I reach into my sorrow and create my own “Sorrowful Rice.”

Grandma, you never got to see me graduate college. You never even got to see me off as I left for New York later that year. You never got to see me do the ‘triumphant return.’ I have yet to return, and it seems I am becoming quite the prodigal son. Will you still be proud of me, even if I am struggling to make something of myself and having racked up a colossal collegiate debt?

What will you say, if you learn that I do not wish to return to the land where you are buried?

On 28th May, 2009, at around 5 AM, you passed away in the hospital. I remember, because I wrote it down.

I also wrote down having heard you cry when Great Grandmother died. It was really painful.

A grandson should never live to see his grandmother cry. Or any old people cry.

I wrote that down in my logs. In my mind, it seemed impossible that you were one to sob uncontrollably, for you were my stoic grandmother; frustrating at times, but always well-meaning and grandmotherly.

I also remember, and wrote down when your youngest son, my uncle, passed away. By traditions and customs, you were not allowed to attend his wake. I can only imagine what grief it must be — grief I didn’t want to imagine, because I remembered the grief you had at Great Grandmother’s funeral.

Many times whenever I am doing something, I would think, “What if she could see me now?” And then I remembered that you can’t, and I am reminded of the finality of death.

Uncle (叔叔), I wrote down what you told me when I visited you on 12th April, 2008.

The first few things he said to me were, “Is the army stressful?” and then he went on about how I should learn to take things easy and learn how to let things go. However I feel that it was more for the benefit of himself, as if he were repeating these to remind himself exactly what he has to do.

But he seems ailing in his road to recovery. He doesn’t wish to pick himself up, saying how exhausted he is and all, and all he does is lie in bed. He doesn’t move much, not even to leave the room or to sit on a sofa. That is bad.

Hope he perks up soon? I’ve even offered going out with him for photography as bribes.

What I did not write down, but I always remember was when you asked me that day, “So what are your plans for college?”

“I’m probably going to apply for college in the United States,” I said.

“That’s nice. What are you going to be studying there?” he asked.

“Journalism.”

“Journalism? That’s good. I wanted to be a journalist too when I was younger, but I never studied hard, and I couldn’t be one. You should study hard and become one for me.”

You passed away a week later.

I graduated journalism school, but I have yet to find a job in journalism. I am going to keep trying, uncle. With the memories of that robot dinosaur you gave me as a kid, and also that toy guy that you disabled the recoil feature for because it scared me, I will become the journalist you couldn’t be. I could not keep the promise to go do photography with you, but I will try my darndest best with this one.

I should ease up with the onions. This is too much sorrow for me.

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July 20, 2013

Rest in Pieces: The cost of vision

I’ve been going without glasses for about two weeks now, and I’m still in one piece. But my glasses aren’t; they’re in two.

Deciding that I was not a fan for living a life of impressionist vision, I got a rather splendid Groupon thing where I pay $35 for an eye exam and that includes a $200 value that goes towards the lens and frames. I was quite thrilled at the prospects of having to pay only $35 for new glasses.

What I did not know was how expensive glasses are in the United States.

Back home, the glasses that I got (and the one that is currently broken) cost me about US$70 for both the lens and frames. They were not fancy glasses, just plain, black plastic ones that were suitable for use in the military during my time in National Service. The lens were high-index lenses and had UV protection.

At the optician’s in Park Slope, where the voucher was for, I was looking for a similar pair to the ones I broke; black, plastic, durable, unassuming. I was handed a pair that I was assured are very durable since they are made by a company that makes sports glasses. I was rather pleases with it and was almost about to make a decision when I suddenly remembered,

“Oh, how much are these?” I asked.

“$349,” he replied.

I balked. $349? And that was not inclusive of the lenses.

“Have you got anything else? Cheaper ones, perhaps?”

And the optician helpfully pulled out a couple more from the back of the shop.

“These are $249, and $199,” he said.

I looked around undecidedly. I had not planned to be spending any amount of money that exceeded double digits.

“And this one is $149,” he said, taking one more from inside a drawer.

It was black, light, unassuming and looks durable.

“I think I’ll take this one,” I said. That left me $50 for lenses.

And then we had to look at the lenses.

“We use Nikon lenses because we believe they are one of the best in the market for value and durability.”

The high-index lenses were $225, but it was not like he could pull out any other kinds from more drawers.

“That will be all,” I said, a little shaken from the day’s events. And I had only been in there for about 20 minutes. 20 minutes was all it took to wipe out everything I’ve earned from street-performing in the past few weeks and more.

But at least I will be able to see now.

–

Rest in pieces, old (cheap) pair of glasses

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