Probably unfair of me, I know

I always get so disappointed when I walk past a Starbucks and see someone working on an Apple laptop. I mean, I just naturally assume that Mac users have better taste than that.

Now, I don’t mean “how can they patronize such a multi-corp coffee house?” Though some of their practices as outlined in Naomi Klein’s No Logo sound just atrocious. I don’t know enough about the business practices of other coffee chains*, or Apple themselves to make that comparison.

No, I’m talking about the taste of the coffee itself. When it has any, that is. Cause my experience with Starbucks nationwide is that when the coffee isn’t burnt, it’s flavorless. I can see if you are really desperate and there is no other coffee in a twenty mile radius, but good lord! This is the land of coffee shops! And many are oh so good.

In fact I am moved to go get some coffee goodness right now. From Torrefazione, who, yes, Starbucks has bought, but haven’t ruined yet. Their unsweetened mochas are the best.

*Except Stumptown, who are coffee gods and always my first choice when possible.

Triple Overdrive

A recent post of Barry’s (aka Ampersand, aka Keeper of the Old Church, aka the Wedding Co-coordinator) about sex and its apparent importance as a measure of success and normalcy has got me thinking about certain things, including, yes, sex. But more precisely what I see as the three main drives or appetites that shape and affect most of human existence—and our uneasy relationship with them. As I see it, they are Hunger, Sleep and Sex.

Under Sex I would include the urge to masturbate, which I see as being different than the urge to copulate, and with Sleep I would include the idea of leisure, the need to be lazy or inactive. In exploring these concepts, I am unconcerned with bodily functions (such as breathing or voiding), emotions, or spiritual aspirations. I am simply interested in the physical drives that more or less we base our lives and culture around.

The drive to make money or amass riches? Well, in it’s purest form, it’s a way to secure better, bigger, more sex, food and leisure. I am as interested in the demented impulse to acquire money for its own sake as I am in underwater-scatalogical-kiddie-barnyard-animal porn.

Given my interest in trickster figures, these are aspects that I have been given reason to think about often, as your basic trickster indulges in them to excess, usually to comic effect. And this is what I see reflected in many of the most popular of the American TV sitcoms such as Friends, Scrubs, and so on. The main cast of most of these shows are picked from very specific groups—no matter how hip or modern they have been upgraded to be—and then painted in broad, fantastical strokes: They are New Yorkers (gypsies, bohemians, not mainstream) Hospital Staff (Soap Opera fodder, pantheon of gods [doctors] and nymphs [sigh, yeah, the nurses]) Gangsters, College and High School students and those that stand between us and the End of the World. The border groups, those on a threshold. Not normal. Not us.

So let’s begin. Instead of saving the “best” for last, let me begin with what began it:

Sex

Okay, let me just get this out of the way. Though I sympathize with Barry’s emotional reaction, let me just state I disagree with his general premise. Sorry: in my experience, people in the real world who base their lives around sex after their early twenties are looked on with as much derision as those who have none. Phoebe Buffay on Friends would be classified as a nymphomaniac who endangers herself daily and should be urged to seek help, if not be ostracized. As for Joey Tribbiani, well, no one would take him seriously—hmmm, actually, kinda like on Friends.

The fact is, this is not the real world nor does anybody I know take it as such. The main characters on these shows have insanely easy access to sex, as they do to real nice apartments, up-to-the-minute wardrobes and expensive gadgets. And a more than fair portion of each thirty minute episode is dedicated to sex humor, because sex is an easy hook and easy to make fun of because it is a point of vulnerability. But Hollywood overrates the time and effort that sex, or thoughts of sex, take up in our daily lives.

I actually find that premise easy to dismiss. What burns my cookies is the idea that love equals sex, like, say, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In the second season, when Angel, the vampire-with-a-soul, experienced true happiness, it wasn’t from the realization that he loved Buffy and Buffy loved him. Oh no. It’s when they had sex that his soul pops out. Gah… (Really, that makes Angel a bit of a girl that way—true acceptance through sexual encounter.)

I could go on and on about the unrealistic and unattainable sexual ideal for women on TV and in the movies (often conflicting, Ice Princess vs. Slut), but what about the men? Despite what Hollywood would have us think, they are not always ready to go. They can be, very specifically, not in the mood. Thank God. How annoying would it be, walking down the street with someone who is always this close to an erection?

Then there’s the sexual intolerance, actually, specifically, towards masturbation, which is not respected in its own right. Only those who can’t get any resort to masturbation, right? Well, no, not for me, and quite a few others I know. I like sex with another, I like masturbating, and the urge for both is quite distinct.

I actually find masturbation jokes irritating in an embarrassing kind of way. A sort of swaggering “oh, yeah, I can get It any time I want, so let me prove it in a slam against the losers who can’t” kind of way. Please.

True mundane sexual incompatibility never seems to be addressed; it’s either love of the Gods or the Psychos. Not the well, that didn’t work, or that was kinda icky. And it would be nice if the girl could be turned off by the young stallion (not the balding letch) for indefinable reasons. And vice versa, ’cept that the girl not be a nerd or homicidal bitch.

In real life, with those married couples I have known who have sought marriage counseling, it wasn’t because of sexual incompatibility or infidelity. It was a problem in communication and connection. And those people looking for a mate, male or female, do not emphasize the sex. They are looking for an emotional or intellectual connection with a person they trust enough to have sex with. (Now, “couple logic”, that’s a rant for another day.)

I know and have known friends who would be typified as average, mainstream Americans clubbers, been in Greek Houses, and those who would be considered promiscuous, though they‘d have nothing on Phoebe or Joey. And I have known those who indulged in the lewd talk because that’s what you do, right? Right? As for the scandalous affair that is on everyone‘s lips? Well, if it were common, no one would talk about it, and usually it’s two years old when you hear about it.

Sex is indeed commonly thought to be a measure of success—but not sex alone. There are other qualifiers such as social position, intellectual merit, popularity, etc. I mean, your average hooker outdoes all of us, but no one puts her or him up on a pedestal and toasts their achievements.

We aren’t that straightforward about sex; we can’t frankly talk about it or the possible consequences. Not like adults anyway, we haven‘t moved much beyond a grade school mentality in many respects. Though of all of the three appetites I’m discussing, it is the one that we can literally live without in a way we can’t with Food or Sleep. So why is it the most important, and why am I going to end up spending the most words on it?

Hunger

The human relationship with food is even more perverse than sex and usually treated as pornographically, with similar moral restrictions. Let’s go back to Friends, shall we?

A motto that I grew up with was “Never trust a skinny cook.” What, then, are we to do with Monica Geller?

Skinny? She’s a starvation victim. It‘s not just that she doesn’t enjoy food, she’s clearly repulsed by it. Then there’s the Bizarro alternate universe where she is a fat smelly geek, reflecting her adolescent trouble with eating. But, that Monica always seemed more content and comfortable and trustworthy than the starved-crazed “real” Monica.

Most anxiety relates to food—not enough or too much. In a land when a sense of never-ending supply and overwhelming portions is the goal, those that show any honest evidence of indulgence are scorned and ridiculed. Show us famine victims in Africa and we shriek and throw food at them without thinking out how it will actually reach them. Our insanity around food knows no bounds.

Food neuroses and limits are usually brought up at some point. And usually ridiculed. And when the actual food does make an appearance on your average TV show, is it pleasure in the healthy foods, nourishing staples or comfort foods? Oh no. It’s the bad foods, the naughty, the elite foods: dark chocolate, lobster, devil’s food cake. Not a tuna sandwich, not Nutella, not red beans and rice, not even a simple candy bar or a glass of water, things people I know will really crave and feel better by.

But the real screwed up messages about food for me come from the commercials. Talk about conflicting messages and unrealistic measures of success. And the gender politics? Brrr. Yes, women can do it all: a career, motherhood, house-keeping, cook every meal while eating Jenny Craig, keeping herself safe from exposing the fact she‘s “on her period” and following Jenny Craig–all without pores! Whereas the men are generally too stupid to work a microwave and so have to resort to fast food. But that’s okay if they can figure out what beer to party with.

Sleep

Or, as I said, leisure. You can find dozens of articles on how screwed up Americans are about simply relaxing and doing nothing. Most instances I see on the sitcom is the ruined vacation or the prevention of sleep, funny because, well, do they really deserve this rest? Shouldn’t they be working or looking for fulfillment?

I actually would put drugs under this category rather than Sex—and alcohol as well, as opposed to Hunger. It’s all recreation, a change and an escape. All good. We actually need this for our all-over health—physically, emotionally and mentally.

It still cracks me up that in the dot com days, all these fringe alternative web jockeys put in 80 hour weeks for their Company. It was a striving for virtual money at the sacrifice of their health and well-being. And I thought that this was the Slacker generation…

And vacations aren’t vacations unless you are doing something—skiing, hiking, cancer research, whatever. And as for the weekends, when someone asks, “What did you do?” surely you cannot answer “sat on my ass the whole time, and, by God, I liked it!’

Conclusion

Let me just some up by saying there is no real conclusion, no new thoughts, theories or observances. We humans are screwed up into tight little balls over our base—as well as our higher—impulses. We check ourselves against the perceived norm and calculate who are our allies and who are not. As with any other human venture. This, as always, comes out in the most popular tales of the day.

In these stories, human nature and appetites are exaggerated and often lampooned. There is usually moral judgement and retribution appropriate to maintain the status quo. Excessive behavior will be often punished, but sometimes rewarded depending on the offender. And though these stories reflect the standards of the culture of where they are told, they never were a place to derive an accurate picture of everyday experience or beliefs.

Homecooking

This kinda a follow-up to my earlier entry on dining.

Like I said, when Kip and I go out to eat, it’s ov er at a friend’s house more often than not. Almost all our friends have at least one or two things they can cook and cook well. In the same way I enjoy scoping out the books, video and Cds that people keep out in public, I like seeing what people choose to cook.

For example, I was very charmed the time Christopher had us over for dinner and actually used the lasagna recipe printed at the back of Bruno book 3, These Troubled Soles. (And, oh yes, it was yummy)

Actually been treated to quite a bit of lasagna lately, a nice veggie one at Elaine and Mark’s a couple of weeks ago and then a few days after that John and Becca brought over a white lasagna that John made full of tasty things like spinach, artichokes and green olives. It was made with a white sauce because John has a sensitivity to tomatoes. Which is actually what prevented us having a lasagna when Victoria and Johnzo had all four of us over a few weeks ago. Instead, we had a tofurkey dinner with all the trimmings— the first time Kip and I have had tofurkey, which is a feat considering Kip has been a vegetarian since we first got together about nine years ago.

Before this dinner, the first we had with Johnzo and Victoria, Johnzo emailed to find out any dietary restrictions we might have, remembering that one of us was vegetarian. I wrote back not only mine and Kip’s, but John and Becca’s as well.

Many of my friends have this small part of their brains dedicated to their people’s eating preferences and needs. Everyone I know has something they can’t or won’t eat, from lactose intolerance to cutting out wheat to citrus allergies to nausea when confronted with soy sauce. Not to mention temporary fasts and diets. (Just try getting all these people together to share one meal. Oy.)

When most of the vegetarians you know dislike eggplant, you just can’t assume anything when you invite people to dinner. Gets stressful at times.

So when my co-worker, Chelsea, read aloud the following questionnaire composed by her husband Brian Vandiver, I had to laugh. And share:

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The Heart of Portland

Since my current mode these days is manic, it wasn’t that unusual that on Wednesday at 12:07pm, the only thing I’d had to eat so far that day was an orange Luna bar. So I skipped down to a local food cart popular with me and my coworkers called “The Whole Bowl.” Which is the only thing they sell, that is, the Whole Bowl: a base of brown rice, followed by a generous slathering of Tali sauce (named for the proprietor and chef), then a mixture of red and black beans, a quarter of avocado, salsa, a dollop of sour cream, cheddar cheese (which I pass on), black olives and fresh cilantro. I will often add some sweet chili sauce from the condiments provided. This has become my new comfort food, especially at the day job. Simple yet flavorful with a good starch base and protein.

While waiting my turn, I heard passersby give a thorough and favorable critique of the Whole Bowl before discussing the merits of other food carts about town. The variety is astounding, and some of them are as established as housed restaurants. Everything from hot dogs to vegan soul food to Hawaiian bento to crêpes to some of the best Indian food in town, and each has a following.

And this is just the carts—then there are the restaurants, coffee shops, bars, bakeries and, yes, deli counters in stores. Every one distinct and expertly critiqued. And everybody I know has a strong like or dislike in every category.

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