Tuesday, April 30, 2024

Hello Again Seoul!


So we need a city. Unsurprisingly, we settled on Seoul for this 'girls' trip'. The city is convenient and easy all around with plenty of flights, choices of hotels, transport and food options. If we're really bored, we can always fly out to Jeju Island. But we're not bothered to do that on this short trip. We want to take it really easy.

However, we had plenty on the daily schedules and things going on — after much discussion, we took a redeye. We took a 2.25am flight out. Damn. That was BRUTAL. Staying awake till 2.25am wasn't ideal. We're not doing a redeye again if we can help it. 

I literally went to the airport in pyjamas. LOL I slept for a solid 3.5 hours. But it wasn't super restful. I told the crew that I didn't want breakfast, but I was still woken up by the cabin lights coming on and the clang of the service trolleys and cutlery. So I asked for fruits and a strong cup of Colombian black.

I'm still not into K-Pop or K-drama, and not that keen on Korean food although I know the narrow menu of dishes I do eat. Going with E and S meant that they can decide what they want to do and I'll just toddle along. I've done the indie gigs and rounds and beer in Seoul. I can just stroll along the streets, and I suppose I can try out the skincare products this time, and do whatever easy things the girls want to do that they don't usually have time to do in Singapore. 

Annyeonghaseyo Seoul!

Monday, April 29, 2024

What is Radical Disruption?


I eyed Michiko Kakutani's 'The Great Wave: The Era of Radical Disruption and the Rise of the Outsider' (February 2024) when it was first released, but didn't need to read it urgently. 

The contents are likely a tad too close to what I read at work. I didn't think she's the academic authority on the themes and topics I need to know. Hurhuhur. Finally got around to reading it this month. Wahhh. It's ermmm... disappointing. 

I wasn't expecting it to be this bad. Sure, the nine chapters are well-researched, quoted and footnoted. In fact, she extensively quotes every writer till she's all over the place. I'm like, the author is so out of her depth. It shows in her perspectives and views. At this juncture of her life, she's not comfortable with disruptions. I confess that many of the television shows she references aren't familiar to me because I wasn't even born, or was wayyy too young to know. This book would do better as an opinion piece (of the everyday man) in a news outlet, not as a book. 

Firstly, don't read this book as a guide to American political science. It isn't. It's a normal educated person's comment of global trends and American-centric social trends. It's a collection of the opinions of a Pulitzer-winning literary critic. Michiko Kakutani is a harsh critic who isn't well-liked by many authors. They're definitely going to rip apart this book too. (Reviews hereherehere and here.)

In the book, the author doesn't say anything new. In every generation, we'll be saying the exact words — that we're living in an age of chaos, technological disruption and radical change. It's a tad snobbish in her panning of tech bros, ultra right-wing politicians and even science fiction. She makes sweeping statements that aren't exactly in the realm of an analytical mind. I'm not even sure I want to quote her as an authority or a point of reference in a paper's bibliography. A footnote, perhaps. 

Some skeptics fear that a decentralized web could exacerbate already troubling dynamics, becoming a high-speed conduit for hate speech and racism, and that the lack of centralized authorities would make it more difficult than ever to moderate illegal or dangerous content. Others doubt that a decentralized web will ever supplant the existing internet, and that even if it manages to somehow gain a foothold, it, too, will somehow end up being co-opted by Big Tech or large venture capital firms.  

The book ends at Chapter 9 'Resilience in the Vuca-Verse: Coping with Volatility, Uncertainty, Complexity, and Ambiguity'. She took a meandering trip through history and described how America overcome those obstacles of Great Depression to financial meltdowns, Black Lives Matter (BLM), #MeToo and COVID lockdowns. She brought in Arab Spring, Occupy and even climate change, and quoted David Attenborough. I was thoroughly confused. 

In Jalandhar, India, the smog clears during the lockdown and the snow-covered peaks of the Himalayas can be seen for the first time in decades. Such images demonstrate the remarkable resilience of nature, and prod us to remember, as Attenborough puts it, that we still have "an opportunity to rebuild in a new direction" and embrace a more sustainable way of life. 

If that isn't enough, the Epilogue is worse. It links back to the introduction when the author mentioned the inspiration for the title of this book. She talks about Hokusai's 'Great Wave', 'Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji', and wood-block prints, and how Japan weathered great change back then. She ended with tons of lines from Joe Bidden and Irish poet Heaney. 🤨

What I giggled at, are the book's many many references to Donald Trump. LOL The snark. The author clearly doesn't like him, and doesn't mince her words. I find it funny. I think many in NYC's literary circles do too. But equally many won't.

Saturday, April 27, 2024

The Second Omakase Night at Kizuna


After this, I can stop counting the omakase nights. Haha. For now, we have the second Omakase Night at Kizuna. With no menu released beforehand, except for the usual suspects of vegetables, seafood and meats on rotation, of course I would pop an antihistamine to ward off the worst of the allergies.

Some people find it annoying to have to check in with a cafe's socials to find out what's going on, and even about last minute cafe closures on a weekend. I'm okay with it. Small businesses are run with little manpower and lots of difficulty. So if you're going to be a Karen, just don't patronize these independent cafes. 

There were plenty of fun dishes. Bamboo shoots topped with fried bonito flakes, negitoro on seaweed, shiraou with egg in soup (like egg drop soup! hehe). I liked that scallop on corn mash. Except that I daren't eat all the scallops. The star dish of the night for us was the sayori sashimi. NOMS.

Then there was a seared sirloin. For carbs, there were sweet potato rice, and an angel hair pasta of crab meat and uni. We had to decline the allocated two portions of carbs and take one bowl instead. We couldn't do that much carbs. Dessert was a fun jelly with salted plum.

Kizuna has just turned four! We don't know if the cafe will go on in this iteration or it's going to change its mode of business. We'll see. Small businesses can pivot too. All it needs are people to drive the change and make the community.

Friday, April 26, 2024

Physical: 100 Season 2


You know how much interest I have in reality shows or even K-dramas, and obviously no K-Pop. I watch some Korean shows, but I don't chase after their sappy soap dramas. I generally like those with a lot of murder and gore, preferably psychological thrillers with low to zero romance. But I'm quite hooked on 'Physical: 100'. Dunno how many seasons it'll go for, but we'll see how long my interest keeps up. 

I finally finished watching 'Physical: 100' Season 2. I was left grimacing, gasping and also amazed by the physical prowess and sheer grit of the competitors, especially the women. Of course competition is brutal, but they pushed through. As much as many are 'retired' athletes, they are still ridiculously strong and fit. In S2, it's pretty clear that many contestants have trained hard for it. I'm also in awe of all the contestants' muscles. Heheh. Here's a nice summary of the contestants on Prestige.

Unsurprisingly, MMA fighters, firefighters, rugby players and CrossFit athletes gain an upper hand. Woo Jin-young, an active CrossFit athlete won in S1Amotti/Kim Jae Hong is the winner of S2. So much of the quests aren't just about cardio. It's a lot of strength, upper body strength and speed. Damnnn, I wish that by just watching the show, I could gain some muscles too. Hahahahaha.

As much as this is a television show hamming it up for the audiences, it's a pretty good watch. I don't know it if it's truly so in the Korean sporting world, but the contestants are incredibly polite and encouraging. It makes for feel-good television drama in the face of fierce competition. It's such a refreshing change from all the manipulative tactics of other television reality shows.

However, there weren't any women team leaders, and the team leaders don't seem to want any women in their teams, except for three enlightened men. I did wonder how Team Leader Lee Jae-yoon agreed to send a woman out to pull-ups when she could only do six; it's crystal clear that you need to do minimally 20 to be of any help to the team. 

The top four contestants to fight for the coveted #1 (and prize money) were Andre Jin (former national team rugby player), Hong Beom-Seok (former S1 contestant, special forces and firefighter), Justin Harvey (model and actor), and Amotti (YouTube and CrossFit athlete). These are athletes who all have a great grounding in various aspects of sports, which means they have great stamina and flexibility, endurance and mental strength. I cracked up when the top four sat down for a chat and all revealed that they have had surgeries done on various parts of their body joints.

The three-man quest to the top two for the fight to the prize are squats. Wtf are 'infinite squats' anyway?! A 100-kg trough of coal. Fwwwaaaaaah. A woman who's fairly fit can generally squat 75-85kg. But a man can squat 150kg on the average! Weightlifters and CrossFitters would totally have an advantage. These athletes would squat 100kg normally, as a warm-up set. In this quest, the first set of 100-kg squats was 30 reps! OMG. The second set was 150-kg, 40 reps. The third set was 200-kg — Amotti and Hong Beom-Seok could lift it, but Andre Jin couldn't even get up from the squat. Those fast reps were pure insanity. 

Amotti literally said, 

The first set at 100-kg: I live and breathe squats. 

The second set at 150-kg: It wasn't too challenging yet, so I thought doing 30 would be a breeze.

The third set at 200-kg: My legs started to feel strained. It's a matter of willpower at this point.

The quests are tough af. I grimaced all the way through. The pain and the discipline it takes to even get here. Spartan races make a differentiation in the weight of the sandbags for men and women. This show doesn't. You gotta move 40-kg sandbags anyhow, anyway in under nine minutes. Woah. The final quest to the top four is 150-kg metal-roller race; it's not just mad, it's unfair to women. Gawwd. 

If a Season 3 happens, would the show producers tweak it? I doubt it. The final quests would have to be gladiator-drama worthy, which would mean it's very hard for a woman to compete in terms of strength and weight.  Collider's comment about the lack of women representation and unfairness of the later part of the quests to women is so valid.

Season 1's revival match had more women in power as well. ​​​​​Eu-DdeumShim and the other contestants who lost got a second chance. They had to hold a rope carrying their torso and 40 percent of their body weight. The final five people could re-enter the game as a team. Eu-Ddeum had the best form and was one of the people to re-enter the game. Season 2 made it harder for women to re-enter the combat mission. The winner formed his team instead of it coming down to individual performance. Ji-Hyun Jung won and picked former team leaders and the biggest men for his team, like Korean Thanos. This meant all the women got the short end of the stick.

After the montage of women's death matches, we didn't see them highlighted again until the cart quest in "Mine." We saw You-in Jung face off against Jang-kun Lee and Soo-jin Lim. Soo-jin's kept questioning if she could push the carts of 18 sandbags across, and she did it. You-in had a different strategy of loading fewer bags and making more trips. Jang-kun finished first, leaving the women to battle it out. Soo-jin won and talked about the pressure she felt in her interview. "I was really bent on not holding my team back," she said. "And thankfully, I think I managed to pull my weight." All players feel this pressure when it comes to team quests. But that pressure is even worse for women. 

Thursday, April 25, 2024

What Even is a Caesar Salad Anymore?


Giggled when I read Ellen Cushing's 'What Even is a Caesar Salad Anymore?' published in The Atlantic on April 17, 2024. Truly. What even is that anymore? Many fine-dining restaurants don't even serve that, unless they want to be labeled as 'boring'. This is such a good read, and fun too.

A 'classic' Casesar salad I remember from my childhood, has become my favorite all-time salad as an adult. Mostly because of the greens used. I generally prefer romaine or butterhead lettuce in salads. I'm not a fan of mixed greens or rocket at all. And I don't like it to be all kale and baby spinach either. 

Isn't it just really, romaine lettuce, Parmesan cheese, and croutons, dressed in a slurry of egg, oil, garlic, salt, Worcestershire sauce, and citrus juice?

It's also the easiest salad to whip up at home. And if you really want, toss a grilled chicken breast or some baked fish atop for a seriously filling meal. A kale salad with pickled red onions, lots of nuts and dried fruit or olives drizzled with some savory dressing isn't a Caesar salad. It gets worse if a restaurant adds cheap synthetic truffle oil or crème fraîche to it.

We are living through an age of unchecked Caesar-salad fraud. Putative Caesars are dressed with yogurt or miso or tequila or lemongrass; they are served with zucchini, orange zest, pig ear, kimchi, poached duck egg, roasted fennel, fried chickpeas, buffalo-cauliflower fritters, tōgarashi-dusted rice crackers. They are missing anchovies, or croutons, or even lettuce. In October, the food magazine Delicious posted a list of “Caesar” recipes that included variations with bacon, maple syrup, and celery; asparagus, fava beans, smoked trout, and dill; and tandoori prawns, prosciutto, kale chips, and mung-bean sprouts. The so-called Caesar at Kitchen Mouse Cafe, in Los Angeles, includes “pickled carrot, radish & coriander seeds, garlicky croutons, crispy oyster mushrooms, lemon dressing.” Molly Baz is a chef, a cookbook author, and a bit of a Caesar obsessive—she owns a pair of sneakers with cae on one tongue and sal on the other—and she put it succinctly when she told me, “There’s been a lot of liberties taken, for better or for worse.”

Restaurants said that in the menu's salad section, a Caesar sells the best, especially if tweaks have been done to it. Nobody wants a salad of rocket leaves or kale. But put random greens into a bowl and sell it as a Caesar? People will order it. 

If I'm hungry but I don't have a craving, I'll just order a cheese toastie (likely brunch or lunch) or a Caesar's salad (in the nights). Most cafes and bistros have that riiiight? It's a super friendly salad. It's savory and to me, fairly hearty. I usually ask for the dressing to be placed at the side because not all cafes do a good one. I'll skip the brainless and eeky Thousand-Island Dressing; I don't even want Kewpie. I'd appreciate a properly tossed anchovy dressing.

To me, a Caesar's must have romaine or butterhead, anchovy dressing or anchovies within, and an egg. And properly grated Parmesan, not the highway diner powdered crap. The kitchen is free to play around with everything else. 

Besides, the more you learn about Caesar salads, the more you come to realize that pedantry is useless. The original Caesar was reportedly made with lime juice instead of lemon. It was prepared tableside and intended to be eaten by hand, like a piece of toast, “arranged on each plate so that you could pick up a leaf by its short end and chew it down bit by bit, then pick up another,” as Julia Child and Jacques Pépin explained in their version of the recipe. It was meant to be dressed in stages, first with oil, then with acid, then with a coddled egg (to coat the lettuce leaves, so the cheese would stick to them), not with the emulsified, mayonnaise-adjacent dressing common today. Crucially, it didn’t have whole anchovies.

As soon as the recipe began showing up in cookbooks, in the early 1940s, it started changing: Some recipes called for rubbing the bowl with garlic, or adding blue cheese or pear vinegar or mustard. In her headnotes for one of the earliest printed versions of the Caesar recipe, published in West Coast Cook Book, in 1952, Helen Evans Brown described the Caesar as “the most talked-of salad of a decade, perhaps of the century.” She then went on to note that “the salad is at its best when kept simple, but as it is invariably made at table, and sometimes by show-offs, it occasionally contains far too many ingredients.” The Caesar is forever, which means it’s forever being manipulated. For better and for worse.

Wednesday, April 24, 2024

The Brand New GRUB Pasta Kitchen at Bishan Park


What joy it is to have GRUB Pasta Kitchen set up a sheltered al fresco area that is pet-friendly! The bistro is finally back at the beautiful Bishan Park, and it's lovely to sit down for dinner in its new space. I've stopped by twice for dinner! Heh.

I'm sooooo appreciative that this outlet took the effort to secure a SFA Pets-Allowed licence, and even have a sheltered spacious outdoor patio where the floofs could be, and we dine in relative comfort with a few overhead fans. I only hope floof owners be responsible for their tables and keep it clean, neat and at a safe distance for everyone.

They have a pretty decent pasta menu that made me go wheeeee. I wanted to eat every item! I love it that they didn't include spaghetti in the choice of pasta. What for, right. Let's hope that the Bishan customer base won't revolt against this menu, take away everything that I like, and reduce this to yet another inane cafe menu with crap food.

In the end, the uni tagliolini got me. I can never resist uni done this way with chives, pickled shallots, ikura. Also shared a grilled seabass with the man. At $22 for a fillet, this isn't a branzino. But at least it's a local seabass and not some weird dory. Apparently the French onion soup is good. I had a sip of it, but I didn't bother getting a whole bowl. I'm okay with French onion soups, but it's not my favorite kind of soup.

There's the aglio e olio bucatini that I wouldn't mind trying. Unfortunately the only topper offered is prawns. Ugh. They didn't have mushrooms. Hmmmm. I returned to have the basil pork gigli. Gorgeous. Very Thai. It's spicy enough, but I'd love more chilli padi at the side. Oof! 

The Argentinian ribeye is okay since it's priced at $34. It's not mind-blowing but it provides protein. We asked for medium-rare but it arrived medium; this is quite typical of busy bistros that don't specialize in steaks. The tarragon grilled chicken was tasty too. I'm not sure if they offer chicken breast, we didn't ask the kitchen tonight — the cut on our plate was the thigh. What's surprisingly delicious, are the sides of charred broccoli (not burnt and nicely salted) and mash (not watery). The greens are beautifully grilled, and potatoes and butter well-churned. 

Love this space. Bishan Park is a 20-minute drive from home. But, I'll be here at GRUB Pasta Kitchen often, on week days. I have this thing about supporting flood-friendly restaurants that has good food. Oh, and the wine list is super decent. Hehehehe. Of course I had to get an easy bottle of red for both evenings.🍷

Tuesday, April 23, 2024

Watching the Rain Fall


No thanks to this weather and rumbling thunder, Smol Girl is in this state of perpetual anxiety these two weeks. On many days when she's home alone, her anxiety is heightened. Her current coping mechanism is to rip mats. So be it. At least it doesn't hurt her paws or gums/teeth too much. Still, I'd prefer her not to have to do this; that's on us, her pawrents to reassure her.

The man and I have to tag-team to be with Choya during these frequent spells of rain and thunder. That morning, he popped out to the gym for a heavy BodyPump class to de-stress from a mad period at work. I took the Smol Girl and went for coffee.

The rains weren't that bad. The thunder was nothing much. We had a spot away from the wet, and Smol Girl scooted under my chair immediately. Smart Girl. Her butt was against the wall, and she was quite happy there. Brekkies and coffee at dearborn worked for me so well. Smol Girl is fine and manages better outdoors, even with thunder. 

Sitting there in the cooler (but no less humid) weather watching the rain fall, I was content. A lot less traveling, a complete readjustment of my daily schedule, and a greater responsibility in my life to keep the dog happy and balanced. This is a choice I've made to have Choya in my life. And here she stays with me. 

Monday, April 22, 2024

Butter / バター


I had to comb through the reviews of Asako Yuzuki's 'Butter' / 柚木 麻子『BUTTER』バター (published in Japanese in 2017) before I decided to read the book. This book has been excellently translated to English by Polly Barton and published in March 2024. 

(Reviews herehereherehere and here.)

Through this book, the author tries to make a big comment on patriarchal Japan and all its misogyny. It's interesting enough with all the usual plot twists and characters, but it got a bit tedious in the middle with the descriptions about food and other characters. Do I really need to know all that? I didn't even feel like eating any of the dishes described within.

The author has loosely based 'Butter' on the real-life convicted killer Kanae Kijima. Dubbed as the 'Konkatsu Killer', she was accused and convicted in 2012 of killing three would-be husbands between 2007 and 2009, and is suspected to be behind four more deaths. Kanae Kijima has been on death row since 2019.

In an interview with The Japan Times in April 12, 2024, the author said that she wanted to highlight the misogyny and pressure on Japanese women to stay at home to cook. 

For Yuzuki, the most interesting part of the scandal wasn’t the crimes — it was the aftermath. 

“I was more interested in how the story was covered by the media than in the murders themselves,” Yuzuki says. “Of course, sympathy leaned toward the men who were killed and (there was) criticism of the woman who did it. But most of the criticism was directed toward Kijima’s lifestyle and her physical appearance rather than the actual murders. Her blog and the cooking school she’d attended were highly criticized on Japanese social media, with a heavy focus on questioning her consumption of fancy and expensive food.”

Convicted serial killer Manako Kaijii is notorious for luring in wealthy men to pay for her expensive cooking classes, then murder them and begin the cycle all over again. She signed up for classes an expensive cooking academy (Le Salon de Miyuko, and previous at Le Cordon Bleu Daikanyama) that doesn't even grant professional cooking diplomas. It's a school for the wealthy housewives. This accused killer needed to continue to afford the fees.

Manako Kaijii has refused to speak to the press until young and ambitious journalist Rika Machida asked her for her recipe for beef stew, the last meal eaten by one of her victims. The two women begin a series of correspondence and face-to-face meetings. Manako Kaijii only ever wants to talk about food.

Rika is the only woman in her hectic news office, writing for the Shūmei Weekly. She stays late and puts in long hours at work. She has a boyfriend, Makoto, but they don't seem to meet often. It sounded more like a friendship than romantic relationship. 

Rika has a best friend in Reiko Sayama. She quit her high-flying job in advertising to become a stay-home wife in the hope of having children. We then see the paths of three women in this story, and how their paths cross, and how their choices and eventual decisions affect their lives. We also see the men in these women's lives, and how these men affect their women and relationships. 

Manako Kaijii isn't the archetypal submissive Japanese woman. Each time she speaks, she makes a statement and puts across her opinions strongly. She also hates margarine and very much prefers butter, especially Echire butter. 

“There are two things that I simply cannot tolerate: feminists and margarine”; “There is nothing in this world so moronic, so pathetic, so meaningless as dieting" 

At first, Rika simply explored Manako as an interview subject. Rika doesn't even cook at home, beyond ramen. She doesn't even know the difference between margarine or butter. Then she started to transform into Manako — she becomes increasingly fascinated by Manako's gourmet tastebuds and rich food, say, taroko (cod roe) with spaghetti and butter. Rika has dinner at Joël Robuchon at a table for one. She goes to the point of listening to Manako by eating buttery harigane noodles after sex with her boyfriend. In the six months she had spent with Manako, she put on weight, a fact which didn't go unnoticed by her mother and Makoto — she put on a full 10kg to 59kg now.

By and by, readers would realize that Manako is toxic. She doesn't have friends because all she wants to do is to control them, and control the narrative of the 'friendship'. She doesn't just use the men to get to her objectives. She's manipulative to everyone, to even to women supposedly her 'friends', and also to Reiko and Rika. As the story goes on, we got more involved in Reiko and Rika's lives. 

I was completely befuddled as to why there's this entire segment about Reiko and Manako. Reiko actually met Manako too, and mustered her courage to leave her husband for a break. Reiko found Shiro Yokota, the man Manako was living with when she was arrested — the only 'victim' who didn't want Manako and is therefore, still alive. Reiko wanted to find out if this is the man manipulating Manako and could perhaps be the one who killed the dead men. Is this even necessary to tell the readers how toxic or 'charismatic' Manako is? 

Rika made the professional mistake of confiding in Manako about her own personal life. As a result, she understood Manako and her motivations and train of thought. She found it when she went undercover at Le Salon de Miyuko. The women there told her that Manako had stormed out of a class that wanted to make a 5-kg turkey that would feed ten diners, or more. 

'Whatever you did, however hard you tried, you couldn't have had ten friends over to your house. You had plenty of worshippers, but you could hardly have the men you'd met on the dating sites together in the same place. Your maximum guest count would have been a man you were dating and your sister, which is to say, two people. Or maybe even that would have been impossible — perhaps it would have been too risky to let someone you'd told all those lies meet a member of your family. Even if you were more serious about your cooking than any of the other students, you weren't blessed with a place where you could do it in the way you wanted to. Quite possibly, the same applied to every aspect of your life.

Rika shot a look at Kaijii. She looked as though she were smiling.

'Maybe, if you'd had enough ease and space in your life to believe in a "someday", then everything would have been different", then everything would have been different. Believing in a "someday" isn't a sign of weakness or stupidity, and it isn't an escape either. When you realised that you didn't have anywhere you could cook and serve a turkey, you felt like you couldn't breathe, like you had nowhere left to go. You felt hatred towards all those students who weren't even thinking about their futures, and wanted to leave the Balzac kitchen that very moment. When you realised that what you'd done meant you could no longer return to the one space where you felt safe, you grew sick and tired of everything. Am I right?'

At the end, Rika got Manako's story and permission to write the interviews into an article in the Shūmei Weekly. The edition featuring Manako's interview sold out, inciting a flurry of readers' reactions and high readership. BUT Rika got burnt by Manako. This woman, who bends the truths to suit her opinions, had somehow gotten 'engaged' to man while she is in prison. That man is a freelance editor, and apparently a douchebag in the industry. Manako and this new 'fiancé/husband' would write her biography together and publish it. Hahaha. Anyway, this dubious editor managed to write and publish an article that brought down Rika's career, accusing her of having a crush on Manako and writing untruths. The backlash to Rika was instantaneous and vicious. 

Although Rika had written facts, but the way she had sourced for the information and that she had questionable methods, resulted in the editor asking her to go on a 7-day leave of absence from work duties. Ultimately, Rika had to resign from the news desk and shift over to writing for the company's women's magazine, writing about herself, and featuring interviews with other women whose lives were thrown into disarray by Manako Kaijii, including the accused's mother and sister.

Although Rika got swept up in the older woman's manipulative games, she isn't one of Manako's victims. Rika found her voice, her thoughts, came to terms with who and what she is. She broke up with Makoto, balanced her heart, forged a new career path that still allows her to write, and is warmly surrounded by real and firm friends. At least the ending is decent. I don't mind it.

As Rika nodded, it struck her that in the not-so-distant future, their little group would disband. Everyone was already beginning to return to their former routines. Shinoi needed to sell this apartment. They needed to move on. That seemed sad, but something new awaited all of them.

Rika wanted to keep her weight. She has surprisingly begun cooking more, and seems to have morphed into a decent home cook with her own original recipes. She also bought a new house that comes with a good-sized oven to fit a turkey, and also a new big-enough fridge. Rika went shopping with Yu, bought that turkey and roasted it. She had all her friends and her mother over at her new apartment to share in this beautiful turkey meal. She is not alone.

Friday, April 19, 2024

Different Prices for a Lagavulin 16 y.o at a Diner and at A Bar


I like burgers and steaks at the casual and fuss-free The Feather Blade. We were here for its Jett Barbecue X The Feather Blade smoked beef cheek burger and the wagyu hanging tender from Hancock Agriculture, and of course its dependable 200-g feather blade steak.

The kitchen is ridiculously fast here. Our meats and sides came out within 15 minutes of putting in our orders. I didn't dare to do most of the sides because they're flavored heavier than I would have liked them. And no creamed spinach ever, thanks — that's an immediate laosai dish. I did take a spoonful of mac and cheese though. Hehhh.

We had whisky and cocktails. My nice dram of Lagavulin 16 y.o with a proper square of ice (made with distilled water) was S$21++. That's a super decent price. The right price for the distillery and year, so to speak. It's not difficult to want to return to this diner at all.

The friends wanted to end the night with a cocktail at Last Word. Okaay. Owned by the same people of Nutmeg & Clove downstairs, it's just much quieter. Last Word is a decent bar,  except that it's all about cocktails. And I really don't fancy cocktails. Zzzzz. 

Now, most cocktail bars priced their cocktails reasonably. Even a bespoke cocktail is between S$27 - S$32++. But they tend to charge a premium for a dram of whisky. I'm like, whyyyy. It's not as if you'll use good single malts for mixes in cocktails. So If we're at a cocktail bar, it's usually two glasses of cocktails for the friends, and just one whisky for me. Nothing more. 

During happy hour, Last Word seems to offer welcome drinks and complimentary oden. At 9pm, of course everything on the menu is on regular prices. I'm sure the prices included the price of my cold towel and random nuts. Tonight, my regular dram of Lagavulin 16 y.o is S$42++. 

My mistake was in not asking for the prices of the whisky I wanted. Come on, your ambience is an extra S$20++?!!! Okaaaaaay. Last Word completely overpriced their whisky. This square of ice wasn't superior to The Feather Blade's. I was quite disgruntled, tbh. Not coming back here if I can help it.

Thursday, April 18, 2024

The BFF Turned 46 Too!

Celebrated the BFF's 46th birthday with a dinner at Shunjuu Izakaya. She just begun a temporary role, so we didn't want to fix a gym workout since it's impossible for me to get there at 6.30am. Well, I can get there, but I'd be sooo not awake. LOLOL.

Ordered a bunch of items. Shunjuu's food isn't mind-blowing, but it would do, and the food is kind to sensitive stomachs. Some cooked items are honestly much better than their grilled skewers. I couldn't really complain about the quail eggs or shiitake and gingko nuts. But the ribeye and beef shortrib left much to be desired. I'd recommend everyone to skip the skewers here since there's another restaurant that does yakitori better just a hundred meters away. 

I was honestly glad that they forgot about my two portions of chicken hearts. They tried to give me the 'The order is on the way, just a while more', and I was like 'Naaaah, cancel it please. It hasn't turned up for the past hour, it's not turning up now.' Ha! I was too full and wouldn't be able to quaff four sticks of that. The BFF doesn't do innards. The one portion of two sticks of ox tongue were overly salted and burnt. It was pretty much inedible, so I didn't have hopes for the grilled hearts either.

The BFF asked for garlic fried rice. Shunjuu does that well. I couldn't finish all of my rice. Realized that my stomach has really really shrunk. I was pretty happy with raw cabbage and the miso dip. And two glasses of highball which were surprisingly balanced. 

Happy Birthday BFF! Here's to an uneventful year where bones, muscles, nerves and overall health are concerned! To ageing gracefully. 🩶 

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Set The Weekly Gym Routine

I'm a bit zonked these few days, no thanks to the weird deep rumbles of thunder at 3.30am, 4.30am and 6am. OMG. Thunder terrifies the dog. Her new thing is to rip up all the yoga mats at home. Luckily they're cheap. I wasn't so pleased when she ripped up the Parklon kitchen mat.

The weather can be crazy hot, I don't care. But it also brings with it thunderstorms and thunder during the transition to neutral. What is up with El Nino! Regardless, I simply sleep earlier and try to garner enough energy to power through the day even if I'm up at 5am. I would really prefer it to be at least 6am though. 

I now have a comfortable rhythm of crunching paperwork, fielding work calls, getting to and fro meetings and conferences as and when necessary, and making time to get out to the gym. I need to get fit. Heh. Getting sufficient sleep means that I'd get the most out of the classes at the gym, and stay focused in order to stay injury-free. 

I've got no issues working out six times a week. I balance Pump (strength and cardio) classes with Grid (cardio) or Reformer Athletic (also cardio), and personal training (mostly weights/strength), and also even them out with the gym's Reformer Align or Recovery classes, my own Pilates and Gyrotonic sessions. 

I've streamlined my diet. It's not a chore at all. Like I said, my biggest issues are carbs and alcohol. The moment I decrease the intake, I'm always in a calorie deficit. Heh! I'm not starving, of course. Nobody needs to eat this much, honestly. It's just unhealthy.

Does my body take a beating with all these? Nope. I'm not crazy or over-doing it. I eased into this new routine. It's not as if I haven't 'exercised' in my life. I'm just getting pudgy and losing muscles, so I want them all lean muscles back. Working out is fun! It needs to be incorporated into daily living. Also, nobody needs to exercise for more than 45 minutes a day in that sense. The joints are well oiled and strengthened, and the kneecaps are not popping as badly anymore. I just need to be careful about my right elbow extensors. I feel it in my squats and when I mop or vacuum. LOL

Monday, April 15, 2024

Bozo Cocktails


How is a short story like 'Bozo' going to turn out? It's about a young woman who starts visiting a bar regularly every other week for about six months because she likes one of its bartenders. Often, these stories don't end well. There might be exceptions. 

'Bozo' is written by Souvankham Thammavongsa, and published in The New Yorker on April 1, 2024.

The narrator enjoys the cocktails that this bartender makes. She likes how he looks as well. She is content to simply admire him and watch him work. She doesn't seem to want to make a concrete move to ask him out. He doesn't wear a ring on his finger. She found out that he was thirty-eight, a few years younger than her.

I could see him in any light and at any angle. It was possible to know him. But, really, I didn’t want to know him. I liked him at exactly this distance. They all disappoint, eventually, when you get to know them. I just wanted to look and make up stories. I loved that I knew where he was every evening. That I didn’t have to wait for a call or a text. If I wanted to see him, I could, and I knew exactly where to go.

The story is thankfully, not one of tragedy, petty jealousy or trickery. If you're single and available, then it's simply one of those 'nights in our lives'. Some dates happen, and some dates don't. There're men aplenty, and it's a matter of which one is for you. Hopefully, sane. The narrator is perhaps forty-one or forty-two years old. At this age, she would know exactly what type of men she prefers, and experienced enough to suss them out. Dating the wrong guy for you will create chaos in your life, and bring about unnecessary emotional turmoil.  

The narrator finally asked the cute bartender out to the aquarium. He declined and told her he has a girlfriend whom he has been with for three years. She doesn't sound too sad. She seems to want him to be happy, and for this relationship to make him happy. 

He told her that his girlfriend comes in on Fridays. So the narrator came in to see for herself. She seems to want her to be beautiful, for him. On a Friday, she heard the bartender's girlfriend call him 'Bozo'! Awwww. To allow someone to call you 'bozo' as a term of endearment, I suppose that's really being indulgent, and they must be really in love with each other. The narrator arrives at the same conclusion.

Then, alone, I got up and left the restaurant. I walked down a dark alley nearby. And there, with my back up against a brick wall, I closed my eyes. I said the thing she’d called him to no one in particular. I wanted what was in her mouth to be in mine, too. 

In an interview, the author said that she intended to reverse the stereotypical dynamic of gazing at beauty, to have a woman look at the man instead:

The bartender is a man who’s used to being watched. He tells her that he previously worked as a model. We’re probably more familiar with this story being told the other way around—a woman is the object of the male gaze, and desirable for her beauty more than anything else. Did you make a deliberate decision to reverse this dynamic?

Yes. Men don’t let you look at them like this. They think it’s creepy. But it’s actually powerful to look and to decide what beauty is for yourself. We often think that beauty is about what we are looking at, but beauty is actually about the person who is doing the looking. The bartender may not be beautiful at all. It’s really about the beauty of the narrator. It’s tricky because, the way the story is written, I disappear what we usually do with character. We don’t get to see what the narrator looks like or even know her name or what her job is or where she lives, yet we are drawn in to her life and what she sees and feels by her voice alone. When we are in the story, we realize it’s really the narrator who is beautiful. She’s just someone who wants to go to the aquarium. She could be angry with what’s happened to her, but she imagines the narrowness of a man’s circumstances. She cares if he’s happy, and even if it turns out that he’s not happy she leaves that alone because that might be what he wants, to be unhappy, because “no one is going to come for your unhappiness.” When she learns about his girlfriend, she doesn’t do what we are socialized to do and imagine a rival or imagine something ugly for him; instead, she sees his girlfriend as a woman just like her who wants good things for this man. When she imagines his life outside the bar, the thing she longs for the most is just to cross the street with him in New York. I get to give this beauty to her and to make readers see her. In real life, such a beautiful person might be called a lonely loser. As a writer, I can make real life feel better than that. 

Thursday, April 11, 2024

Monkfish Tail at Loulou

I keep walking by Loulou on my way to and fro the area, and going to other restaurants, but I have never stepped in. I have never gotten around to making a reservation for a meal. Till V finally booked a table for us. She has been there rather often and likes the food quite a bit.  

The menu is varied. It's nothing fancy, yet everything dependable. If the kitchen executes all the items well consistently, then this is a solid restaurant that has flown under our radar. That night, there were a number of things I'd love to eat, but no, I couldn't. I'll have to come back to eat all the other things on the menu! 

We were prudent in our orders. An octopus carpaccio with roasted tomato vinaigrette to share, a 200-g Margret River tenderloin for V, and for me, I opted for fish — a nicely roasted monkfish tail with chorizo butter and provençale ratatouille. The neighbor's chilled seafood tower looked delicious with its shelled scallops, marinated octopus, tiger prawns, mussels, oysters and lobsters. But that is a total histamine bomb. Grrrrr. 

I'd probably skip the pasta and risotto since the flavors with cream and bisque broth aren't what I usually look for. To eat the pasta or risotto, I'd also need the help of a full table to split the carbs! Tonight, I decided to have a bit of that French pilaf onion rice, and two slices of freshly baked bread with a whole square of butter. I didn't share the butter with V. Hahahaha. 

V picked out a lovely bottle of red (Chateau La Tour de Mons - Margaux 2014) that breathed easily and went down even nicer. In fact, we skipped solid desserts and opted for a second bottle as dessert. NICE. I'm always in a calorie-deficit if I watch my carb intake. So I'm not too fussed over what I eat, except I control the volume. 

Wednesday, April 10, 2024

Personal Training Sessions Have Begun


Took up the gym's promotional offer for three sessions of PT (personal training) at 45-minutes each for a total of $149. They call it a Kick-Starter. That's quite a steal. Let's see what has improved by way of PT methodology (largely dependent on the assigned trainer) and if it can nudge me a little. 

I do classes at the gym because I'm not someone who can walk in and know what to do on the gym floor. I can use some of the machines, but I don't know how to use them effectively or where and what my weak spots are. Youtube and IG are not very helpful to me in this area.

I'm assigned a personal trainer/coach whom I thought is rather experienced and practiced. He has been handling clients for years and he seems to have vibes similar to some of the trainers (who have left the gym) I used to 'like'. He's similar in the sense that I liked their approach as a trainer; I appreciated how they organized a walk-through and demo of a class, give clear instructions and never hold too intense expectations. 

Hello, I'm not an athlete. I'm just someone trying to drop 3% body fat. The weight isn't the point. I'm mad lazy, and would cheat in all reps. My goal by the end of the year is to reduce 3% body fat, and do 10 reps of pull ups unassisted with ease. (And maybe an 'air walk' pull-up.) I can't do that now. I can do five easily, six, and the other four require a tremendous effort. 

Went for my first PT session. This coach pointed out my scapular issues, which in turn hurt my elbow extensors if I'm not consciously pushing them down and retracting them. There're two more sessions in this starter pack, then I have a new set of 12 sessions more to go. They call that Full Throttle. Haha. I don't need another set after that. I need to figure out the machines, get my form and movement right, and I'm all sorted to get in workouts on my own. Heh.  

Tuesday, April 09, 2024

Bit of Cockles & Carbs

We had a late lunch and didn't need to eat that early. Took a chance and walked into Shao Tapas at 8pm. There was a comfortable outdoor table for us. Yay! I do ask for less oil and salt in our food because I find that food a tad oily still. 

Took a deep breath and ate some cockles. It was hard to resist blanched cockles done this way. (An antihistamine after worked. Or maybe it was the garlic and chilli.) Had to have a portion of the excellent stir-fried Chinese garlic chives (青龍菜).

There was a signature braised platter with braised duck, pork belly and intestines. I don't mind the braised duck, but it's not my thing. The restaurant doesn't just do braised duck on its own though. It offers a whole crispy or roast duck for pre-orders. There was also claypot tofu soup with pig intestines and pickled vegetables (砂鍋肥腸燉豆腐). I really liked that tonight. I'm not a big fan of pig intestines, but I took a few pieces since these were braised well, and the pickled vegetables masked most of the 'stink'. 

The man wanted carbs. Surprise surprise! By this dish, we would definitely have to pack some items home. Had a bite and requested to tapau the rest of the horfun with diced kailan and dry radish, and half of the roast chicken

Monday, April 08, 2024

Making Sense of Life and Death, and Shadows


This is a vignette of what goes on in a neighborhood. There's some background but not much story development. Odd but familiar — 'Neighbors' by Zach Williams, published in The New Yorker on March 18, 2024. This vignette is drawn from the author's upcoming new book (coming in June 2024) of ten short stories titled 'Beautiful Days: Stories'

The narrator and his wife Anna and their twin girls moved out to the San Francisco after she had an affair and in a bid to patch their rocky marriage. They got to know their neighbors, and on their left, lived an elderly woman named Bing

They could hear Bing's tv turned on loud and her wall phone ring. They didn't get to meet her for the longest time till her youngest son Henry visited. To me, unfortunately, Henry and the narrator got a bit too pally. Henry now texts the narrator to go over to check on his mother if she doesn't answer the phone. 

And I knew that when I checked my phone—which, to prevent distraction, I always left charging in the kitchen—I would find messages from Henry. It was inevitable. He’d explain that his mother wasn’t answering the phone and he was growing worried. His request that I knock on her door would be apologetic but insistent. And when she didn’t answer—of course she wouldn’t; why would she answer her door but not the phone?—he’d tell me where to find a key. Soon I would be on the other side of the wall, slowly climbing Bing’s stairs, calling her name. I had a bitter feeling about it, as if this outcome, this moment, had been waiting for me since I’d first seen Bing, and by extension long before that—since we’d found this house in the Outer Sunset, or since Anna had received the offer to go to California. I watched the ocean for another minute or two, then walked into the kitchen for my phone.

.....................

My phone buzzed. I can’t reach anyone else nearby. There’s a key under the flat stone beside the walk. Again am so sorry but would you please? Whatever protests I had—that this wasn’t my business, that Henry was the one who’d left his poor invalid mother so that he could scale cliffs in Tahoe, and that someone else should be appointed to do this, not me—ran on a distant parallel track in my mind. The key was there, pressed by the stone into the pale, dusty soil. I had to wrestle it some in the lock, but then the gate sprang open.

One fine night, the narrator went over to find Bing dead on the sofa in the living room. There was a man in the shadows of the room, or so he thought. But he didn't approach and the man disappeared back into the shadows till the narrator wasn't sure if there was actually a man in the house.

The narrator never said anything about the man to the police or the EMTs since the death seemed natural. He only told his wife. Eventually, they moved out and away from San Francisco. 

Maybe he saw the Grim Reaper. In an interview with the magazine, the author was asked if he knew who this man in the shadows was. He said, 

The encounter in the neighbor’s house involves (spoiler alert) an unknown man whose face is obscured. He is seemingly a real person, but his effect on the narrator of the story is perhaps more psychological or spiritual than concrete. The story never reveals who—or what—he is. Do you know? 

No, I don’t, and it’s never really occurred to me to try to figure it out. Part of what I like about not knowing, in a story such as this one, is that it keeps me on equal footing with the characters. In fact, I think that’s one thing that attracts me to the form of fiction, broadly speaking: that a story can resolve, on its own terms, while leaving major questions unanswered. To me, that feels true to life.

Friday, April 05, 2024

Grilled Meats at Nami

The BFF came back happy and burnt from her dive trip, and took the husband and I out to dinner. She said it was his birthday meal! Wheeeeee. We requested for her to pick something easy and nothing complicated. Something low carbs, but not a steakhouse. 

We went for Korean food at Nami. Some lighter potions of grilled beef and pork sounded great. The afternoon rains cooled the surroundings; dinner wasn't too uncomfortable for us seated outdoors. 

Ordered prudently since nobody wanted to over-eat. The grilled beef shortribs and marinated pork collar supplied all the proteins that we need. Also, we had seafood soondubu jigae. Plenty of tofu. Hehe! I wondered about the steamed egg. But the table said no. Pfffffft. Passed on the jeon for a lighter bowl of japchae. I'm not fond of glass noodles. The table is. So they ate most of it. Heh.

We also shared one bowl of bap among us. But I think I still ate the most rice. Dohhhh. They literally took 1.5 spoonful each. I took 3 spoonfuls. *cries

Thursday, April 04, 2024

Peking Duck!


When we have no wish to eat beef (means no tomahawk or ribeye sorts), what better way to do a delicious low-carb dinner than to devour a whole Peking duck between three people? Went for an indulgent dinner at Imperial Treasure Super Peking Duck, and V picked up the bill, refusing to negotiate about it.

Low carbs don't mean low calories horrr. A whole Peking duck weighing about 1.5kg holds 1500 kcal or so. One serving of 50g including its skin would be ~115kcal + 14g of protein. The meat is low in carbs and high in protein. If we don't drizzle plum sauce onto the slices and its wraps, or go easy on the wraps, then we'll be able to keep dinner reasonably healthy.

The slices of Peking duck were absolutely lovely. I love duck when it's done like that. Tasty and tender. The duck breast is faultless, and the restaurant slices the thigh and dark meat just fine. V brought along a bottle of red that totally complemented the meat. We wouldn't be able to drink so much, so we didn't get another bottle of lesser wine from the restaurant (corkage would be waived if we do that). We'd rather pay the corkage.

I wanted greens. Found the simplest version that's just kai lan. I like stems. It was excellent. Beautifully sautéed and balanced with ginger and Chinese rice wine. I had no more space for soup since we were going to have a bite of the leftovers of the duck to be tossed in mee pok. I really didn't mind a bit of the carbs since this restaurant's mee pok is a good iteration.

It was a 6.30pm dinner, so there was plenty of time for our food to digest after. Didn't overdo the drinking either. Loved it. The company and conversation were both wonderful. I was full and super happy with the meal, but I wasn't stuffed. There was no need to go for a quick sprint before bedtime rolled around. (I hate jogging and try to avoid it if I can.) Stomach felt great when it was time to sleep. 

Wednesday, April 03, 2024

Back at Virgin Active


Decided to do a trial class at Virgin Active. That was pretty fun. So signed up. Don't need to do gym-shopping anymore. As far as a commercial gym goes, Virgin Active is pretty good. Four years on, I'm back at Virgin Active. LOL 

The gyms are still in their original locations; they've renovated and spruced it up. I need a nice-smelling, clean and spacious gym. VA fits the bill. I've got five different outlets to go to. They've got the class timings I want, and the classes are varied enough to help me hit all cardio goals. I'm not going to bother much with the instructors. I'll just do my own thing in the classes and get out of there. 

I combed through the membership terms and grinned. They reworked the clauses, especially the parts on termination. There aren't anymore loopholes should another pandemic or natural disaster occur. Oh well. Heh. This time, I'm doing a 12-month commitment, with weekly payments. That gives me some psychological assurance; I really hate it when businesses force me to get a package/set and then promptly shutter. WTF. The friends are like, 'if you join this and VA closes down within 24 months, it must be YOU.' 😂

I've popped into a few classes. Did GRID Training, LES MILLS BodyPump, and a few types of the Reformer classes. Exhilarating. I have seriously been too inactive. It does feel very good to be in a calorie deficit again, and still not stinge on my food or a glass of whisky. But I do have to do a lot fewer carbs. Sad. Hurhurhur.

Tuesday, April 02, 2024

Fish Galore!

The man didn't want to do too-fancy meals with the friends for his birthday. He wanted regular easy vibes and food that included Choya. The friends merrily obliged. Since we spread out our meals, I could also schedule different proteins and flavors for the birthday boy. Hurhurhur. So this round with these friends, there were loads of fish and seafood featured. 

Nude Seafood 

We didn't bother to go to Nude's new outlet at Punggol. That's wayyyy too far. I think I'll never make it there since the Marina One outlet works well for everyone and is super convenient. Tonight, we opted for this venue for a 7pm dinner with the man's parents.

However, the man had to clear a piece of work and send out a couple of emails on the laptop; the phone couldn't cut it. The food arrived while he was still on it. The grilled swordfish on pearl couscous and pumpkin velouté and egg floss came sliced, and that totally allowed him to eat with one hand. Heh. 

The parentals took the Hokkaido scallops spaghettini with zucchini, and the river king prawn claypot vermicelli. I loved my miso halibut and soba with quail eggs. The broccolini and king oyster mushrooms were a must to fulfil the greens requirements. 

I didn't come by to Nude at Marina One for a looooong time because there was a period the food was quite terrible. Either the kitchen was overloaded or the chef went away on vacation or to oversee the new outlet's set-up. I have stopped by thrice in the past month. Food seems to be decent again. I'm quite happy to come by more often then. 

The spread at Nude Seafood.

An Unnamed Zi Char Eatery

This place shall remain unnamed because they quietly accepted Choya. They've never said anything about her when we come in for dinner. We can't be more grateful. Went with G for a super fresh soon hock with its liver included! Wheeeeee. I usually have to ask them for the liver because they don't always include it. Many diners don't know how to eat liver. Dohhhh. We do!

It was just three of us and we didn't want to over-order. There was a pot of daily soup. When the boss lady said the name, I went huhhh because I obviously don't know it. It's arrowroot soup (粉葛湯) with pork ribs. Arrowroot and the soup boiled up is apparently 'nutritious' to help the body to combat the sizzling heat these days. I rarely use arrowroot in soups, but okay, I won't react to it. It was tasty. 

Also had Marmite pork ribs and stir-fried broccoli with scallops. We literally shared a bowl of rice among us. HAHAHAHA. Jialat. We're trying to avoid the obviously refined carbs like crazy. We were prepped for the hot weather and dining outdoors. It was a warm and humid night, but a breeze stirred through. I also brought the portable fan along, so the heat was manageable. 

Decent zi char items with lower salt levels as requested.

Monday, April 01, 2024

What is The Meaning of Life?


Our unnamed protagonist and narrator, a young man who made a ton of money and is seeking the 'meaning of life'. He is then entangled with an older man, his white European neighbor, V.. This is 'The Time Being' by Joseph O'Neill published in The New Yorker on March 18, 2024.

It's nothing like what you would imagine. It's about neighborliness, ageing, illness and helping a neighbor in this time of unkindness. V. collapsed in his home and was sent to the hospital, where he eventually passed. Protagonist and narrator is the neighbor, and in the meantime, helped to care for V.'s dog named Pal.

In my early thirties, I began to cultivate the friendship of older people—people born twenty or thirty or even fifty years before me. I read many novels in those days. My new friends contained the experiences of life in the way that novels did, with chapters involving marriages, careers, wars, intergenerational dramas, travels, dénouements, deaths. Their biographical force field was strong. They embodied the theme of time. Time was thematic. It was not yet a source of ever-worsening personal harm.

The narrator is fascinated by V.'s life, and his eastern European heritage. He didn't even mind retrieving books from V.'s home and then bringing them to read to him in the hospital. There's this vague thing about history and survivor, but I'm not sure I want to think about it. It's not strong enough. In a response to an interview question about survivors, the author said,

As older people sometimes do, Mr. V. collapses. He’s sent to the hospital; he’ll never go home. The narrator gradually assumes the responsibility of his care, and of his dog. Late in the story, almost imperceptibly, the narrator himself ends up in the hospital. Is the narrator now a survivor and a subject of history? What separates him from Mr. V., in this respect?

I’m not sure that much separates them. Time seems to have caught up with the protagonist as it did for Mr. V.—forced him to migrate from the world of the well to the world of the unwell. In this respect, he is a subject of history in the broadest sense, and certainly in the sense of facing the limits of his autonomy. He has become, against his will, rich in experience.

V. eventually passed away, and his son-in-law came to clear out the apartment. The narrator judged the son-in-law for his 'Floridian' roots — "He was, like so many Floridians, a person of low character, a person who cared for nothing outside himself. That was obvious. He was not an émigré—he was an American, the real deal." This son-in-law refused to tell the narrator anything about V. daughter and grandson. To the narrator, the son-in-law is completely useless since he didn't give up an iota of informmation or fun facts. 

Anyway, Pal the dog who is a half Entlebucher, stayed on with the narrator. I cackled so loudly at the ending of the little story. Okay, to each his own when trying to understand the 'meaning of life'.

Harlene truly was the intellectual of my suspicions, although she originated not from Warsaw or Lublin or Salonika but from Omaha. She was exactly what I was looking for: a clever, wise, learned, and experienced person, an actual professor who was prepared to converse about the profoundest questions. At the time, I thought it was because she found me a worthy collaborator in thought. I now suspect that she dropped by because she was entranced by my kitchen appliances, which included a dishwasher manufactured to my specifications, a built-in forty-eight-inch refrigerator, a large wine cooler dedicated to champagne and cava, and an antique range cooker imported from Sweden. That was how I then rolled.

Harlene introduced me to a concept of her own invention: the Robinson fallacy. 

“What is the Robinson fallacy?” I asked. In those days, fallacies fascinated me. 

It referred, she said, to the mistaken sense that one has been marooned, that the sails of rescuers will one day appear on the horizon, that one is on the island only for the time being. 

“I don’t fully understand,” I confessed.

Harlene drained her glass of champagne and rose to her feet. She replied, in a voice full of forlornness—it was pretty much the last thing she said to me, because Pal and I quit the building soon afterward—“Your refrigerator is so beautiful I could move into it.” 

This is the kind of obfuscation that I will avoid when I write to my nephew to explain to him the meaning of life.