Monday, January 21, 2013

The Illium Cafe and the Jerk Pork Dumpling I had for Breakfast

I try to eat breakfast at the Illium Cafe every day.  Sure, sometimes there are complications.  Like Hurricane Sandy.  But most of the time I'm there.  For those who don't fully understand the topography of my life, I live on the third floor, my studio is on the second floor and the Illium is on the first.  So where else am I going to eat breakfast?

I use it as a way to compose my thoughts before entering the studio.  Plus eat breakfast.  Plus drink a tank-load of coffee.  Plus read The Times.

For a long time, the staff would see me staring into the distance, as I typically do when thinking about work, and think something was wrong.  I think they've gotten used to it now, but they still come over sometimes, thinking I need something when I actually don't.  Particularly the new ones.

Which is great.  It's better than the alternative, which is they don't come over at all and you're out of coffee.

Here's a picture of Willem de Kooning and his then-girlfriend Ruth Kligman.  Kligman's claim to fame was that she dated Jackson Pollock (and was the only surviver of the car wreck that killed him) before de Kooning.

De Kooning once said, roughly:  "They don't know what it's like.  They think it's easy.  They don't know it's like jumping off a 12-story building everyday."

My guess is that, in the picture, de Kooning is thinking about the building, and Kligman is thinking about how much she looks like Elizabeth Taylor.

He might be thinking about the time Pollock peed in Peggy Guggenheim's fireplace.
Yes he might.

This is my favorite picture of Elizabeth Taylor ever ...

I like it because you don't think of Elizabeth Taylor as a dancer.  You think of her as a stationary object.  A fixed force of nature.  Not one who might burst into pirouettes.  Plus, look at that neck!

Anyway, staring into the distance is half the fucking job.  If you ever see me do it, don't be alarmed.  Or think I'm emotionally unstable.  Or think that I'm looking at you.  Some people don't like being looked at.

Not to worry -- I'm looking through you.

Oh God.  Now, I suppose, is the time for the obligatory Beatles lyrics.
Fuck you.
No, fuck you.  
I can't believe you think it's okay to just take the wind out of my sails like that.
I speak on behalf of the 103-thousand people who have been to this blog.  We're sick of the fucking Beatles.
(gasp)  I'm putting my fingers in my ears.
Good luck typing like that.

I had a fried jerk pork and goat cheese dumpling at the Illium the other day.  I can't stop thinking about it.


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