A stroll around the neighbourhood

[muckefuck]

Lately I've amassed plenty of evidence that, if you don't type it in when it's fresh, you'll never get around to it, good intentions and New Year's resolutions notwithstanding. It may be all the same to y'all whether or not you get to read about my mildly amusing run-ins on el and street corner or whatever, but one of these days, when I'm forgetful and decrepit, I'll want some idea what the hell I was doing with all my weekends back during what will increasing come to resemble the best years of my misspent youth.

Today I was afflicted with tremendous sunny-day guilt and the effects of insomnia--not a winning combination. I don't know how much time I spent lying on the bed with my eyes closed, half dressed and thinking I really should get out. It's so bright and lovely; tomorrow it could be snowing. I should ramble along the lake shore. Fortunately, I'll almost always travel to food, so promising monshu dinner at jinju was just the ticket. I talked him into leaving early so we could wind through Lakewood-Balmoral in search of signs of spring.

Did we find any? A few: Daffodils and tulips were just edging the tips of their leaves out of the mushy earth. I was surprised not to see more crocuses and snowdrops were out in force only in one west-facing flowerbed. On Wayne, monshu spotted what he thought was an early forsythia, though the blossoms looked too thin to me. That's because it was a witch hazel, as a friendly neighbour pointed out to us; she said it'd already been blooming for several weeks and I made a mental note to traipse past the bush a bit earlier next year.

We did pass the site of the Lefkow murders. No mistaking it: Shrines bearing photographs of the judge's husband and mother out front, one police cruiser parked next to them and another in the alley. And a couple blocks away, an ever more curious lawn shrine. It was like a ramshackle creche that had been left out year after year, except in place of the manger was a photograph of a young man. The rest of the sheltered space was packed with santeria candles (the kind they sell in supermarkets nowadays) and there were weathered remains of flowers, both real and fake. It was all too easy to imagine some La Llorona-esque woman praying in front of it with superstitious devotion.

Comments

[bunj.livejournal.com]

Three years ago (or thereabouts), a cab driver was killed three blocks from our house. He was confronting some teenagers and one of them shot him. I remember driving by a few days later. Some sort of memorial service was happening, and at least fifty people were crowding around the corner. Next time I drove by, I noticed a candle and some flowers on the spot where he died. As the months went by, they were periodically changed out for others. When winter came again, they were sticking out through the snow. Three years later, there's still something there. Occasionally when I walk by, I think about the amount of love and devotion this represents.

jinju

[febrile.livejournal.com]

I walked past there last night on my way to dinner at Reza's, and remembered hearing you and niemandsrose speak well of it. Should I get the opportunity, what should I try or avoid when I visit?

Your pocket guide to jin ju

[muckefuck.livejournal.com]

First of all, bring money. It's good, but it ain't cheap. (If you want to try on the cheap, fill up elsewhere and stop in just for cocktails and appetisers.)

Definitely have a sojutini. IMHO, the "jinjer" is the bomb, but the "oe" is fantastic is you like something a bit drier.

Don't be afraid of the kimchi. The kimchi phacen and kimchi mantwu are both scrummy ways to ingest it. Also, fabulous chicken wings. One plate could almost be a meal in itself; they might be just the thing for an evening nibble times two.

If you like spicy, you could do worse than the talktorithang, which is loaded with tasty broth. So far, we haven't had a bad entree there, but I think ordering the pipimpap is a cop-out (unless you get their special sushi version).