DEBRIS.COMgood for a laugh, or possibly an aneurysm

Just yesterday I mentioned Roxanne’s, the awesome raw vegan restaurant in Larkspur, CA. They’ve just closed — the restaurant patrons are all eating next door, at Roxanne’s take-out window. Locals are happy to eat raw vegan food, but apparently not at white-linen-tablecloth prices.

Before Sunset is a sequel to a movie I never saw, nor even wanted to see.

In 1995, writer/director Richard Linklater, who’d previously done Dazed and Confused (“See it with a bud!”), co-wrote a story about a French grad student (Julie Delpy) meeting an American slacker (Ethan Hawke) on a train bound for France. The whole movie takes place in one night. It’s a talking movie, showing little but Hawke’s and Delpy’s characters getting to know one another, falling in love, facing the sad reality that they’d have only those few hours together. (That explains why I didn’t see it: no rock bands, no espionage, no seven-figure CGI budget. Who’d pay $8 to see a couple of people talking? )

Linklater rejoined his co-writer and cast to create a sequel. As in real life, characters Jesse and Celine are nine years older. Jesse has become a writer; his first successful book tells the story of one night spent on a train with a French grad student. In Paris to promote the book, he’s floored to have Delpy’s character appear at a book signing.

The characters have had nine years to think about what might have been. A few scenes of Before Sunrise are shown as flashbacks — Hawke and Delpy are nine years younger, charged with youth and hope and possibility… making the new scenes all the more poignant. Seeing the new lines in these characters’ faces drives home the loss of nine years. A lot of life has passed them by.

Before Sunset benefits from nine years’ experience. It’s about second chances, and Linklater appropriately raises the bar both for his characters and himself. Rather than 14 hours, this time Jessie and Celine have only 80 minutes; the movie takes place in real-time. It’s a film of an 80-minute conversation. And perhaps because I’m also nine years older, I sat captivated by it.

I recommend this movie. It’s not necessary to have seen Before Sunrise first… although you’ll probably want to see it later.

Jon Carroll tried a vegan restaurant (Café Gratitude), and was surprised to find that he likes it.

I confess to having had what Herbert Spencer would have called “contempt prior to investigation” about the word “vegan,” the concept of veganism and vegans themselves. Vegans, I figured, were people who were too snotty to be vegetarians.

He describes a particular, typically peculiar vegan restaurant, vents a few opinions on the matter, then finally gets to the texturized vegetable protein (aka “meat”) of the matter:

So then the food came. And here’s the truth, my beloved readers: I came to scoff and stayed to cheer… You know all those vegans who say, “No, really, it tastes good.” They actually have a point.

Certainly that’s true of Roxanne’s.

At the other end of the culinary spectrum comes news of “The Stonner,” a “1000 calorie, deep fried pork sausage kebab [that] has been dubbed the most dangerous fast food in Britain.” (“Stonner” is Scottish slang for erection. Had the Stonner been invented in the US, it would have been called a “tube steak.” Or, maybe, “McBoner.”) The inventor claims sales are, err, rising.

The inventor can be credited not only with the original idea of wrapping a pork sausage in a doner kebab, dipping the mess in batter and frying it. He also takes credit for naming it “the most dangerous supper in Scotland,” indicating that he knows more about marketing than he does about cooking.

(A tip of the toque to reader Chris Thompson, who reliably informs me of all new developments in the fried meat scene.)

When we visited Vancouver a few weeks ago, we stayed with a friend who lives one block off of Commercial Drive — a street that contains more culture in any three-block span than any three Midwestern states. I didn’t take any photos, so you’ll have to make do with a thousand words… these are the types of restaurants I jotted down on the back of a business card as we drove past:

Carribean/Jamaican, Greek, Greek & pizza, pita, Mexican, taverna, Italian, deli, Java Express, chocolates, cappucino, gelato, cakes, tandoori, sushi, Salvadoran/Mexican, vegetarian/vegan, donair, taco, bagel, vegetarian Indian, tapas, juice bar.

That’s not a complete index… I couldn’t write fast enough. Literally every storefront represented a different type of cuisine.

Our host called this strip “The Drive,” capitals evident, in a tone of reverence. Within 24 hours I felt the same. We ate Asian/fusion, gelato, Brazilian, and multi-ethnic vegan sandwiches within the span of five meals (and three blocks).

The Drive has its own website: thedrive.net. Although the design is dated, the site’s content provides a model for the way shopping-district websites ought to be: indexed via map (for spatial navigators) and category… with panoramic photos and still photos.

The Drive is anchored at the north end by Womyns Ware, a lesbian sex shop. It appeared as we drove by that the store’s outside walls feature larger-than-life-size murals of enormous naked women (sorry, womyn) dancing with arm-sized “dills.” I am not part of the store’s customer demographic, but I appreciated its very public existence: alternative-lifestyle stores suggest a high degree of local tolerance. Like San Francisco, Vancouver seems to have no closets. Commercial Drive felt a bit like Haight Street, with better food and fewer shoe shops.

Bringing Down the House is a nonfiction story that reads like a modern-day adventure. Its appeal to programmers and engineers is undeniable: how often can a bunch of math geeks metamorphose into celebrities, playing high-stakes blackjack every weekend and walking away with millions? If the story weren’t true, it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting, because nobody would believe it.

The book’s author, Ben Mezrich, published an adaptation and preview in Wired last year: Hacking Las Vegas: The Inside Story of the MIT Blackjack Team’s Conquest of the Casinos

Blackjack team? Now that’s a productive extracurricular. I spent most of my college years in the marching band; I got blisters, bloody knuckles, and back pain. I got to travel to rural Pennsylvania by bus. I don’t think anybody is basing real-life adventure stories about it. Oh, also, I didn’t make a million dollars.

Mezrich’s book is a great, quick read. If it doesn’t turn into a big Hollywood movie, I’ll be surprised; it has the requisite elements: scrappy underdogs, sinister casino staff, paybacks, greed, sex.

Some reviewers (e.g. at Amazon) complain about the “pulpy” writing style, both diction and characterization. I am sensitive to lousy writing, but nothing here bothered me. I’m sure Mezrich took license in his recreation of events. I don’t consider that “news.”

Some people might want to read this as a how-to manual on gambling. Although the MIT Blackjack team’s method seems to be clearly explained, I doubt the Vegas casinos are vulnerable to such attacks any longer. Mezrich explains some of their counter-measures, e.g. continuous reshuffling machines. The MIT team’s approach was genius, in that it targeted a specific vulnerability, but now that that vulnerability has been exposed, it’s unlikely to be exploitable again.

I recommend the book to anyone who reads escapist fiction — this is escapist nonfiction, and somehow more thrilling for it.

Patronize these links, man:

• Amazon (paperback)