Kate's posse

My old friend Kate brought her kids up to Cumberland for the first leg of our vacation. She reminded me that I'm a dick because they only live an hour away, but I haven't seen them in about 2 years. As if I need reminding. Kate, you'll be happy to know that I have plenty of people reminding me of that... and on a regular basis.

Cole


Ben


Dog

Chicken Fried Seth

Yeah, its been a while since I rapped about anything. When this dude goes on vacation, though, this dude GOES ON VACATION.

And I'm sorry that my first post in weeks has to be this photo of Seth. It was the first notably fucked thing that happened on my vacation.



After we got home from the bar on our first night in Wisconsin, we did some brainstorming and came up with a list of names to describe Seth's back. Here they are, and in no particular order...

Epidermal Buffet
Snack Back
Skinitos
DNA Roll-Ups
Sun Yuns
BBQ Rotisserie Back Slab
Skin Jim
Skingles
Trail Back
Baby Back Back
Peel and Eat Seth

Kombucha

A friend of mine recently told me of 'the best thing for hangovers there is'. Kombucha tea. I had never had this, but I have had hangovers. Plenty of them. In fact, I'm one of those dudes who gets REALLY wicked hangovers. I don't even have to get that drunk to accomplish it, either. To date, the only thing that has kept me from being all headachy and pukey the next day is to drink a ton of water before, during, and after a day/night of straight northeast-style drinking.


(for the record, i did not take this wack-ass photo... just found it on the internet)

Anyway, I bought one last Saturday. I put it on deck for my next possible hangover. It has a quick expiration date, this Kambucha, but I wasn't worried about that.

Sure as shit, I was out drinking beer and playing chess on Sunday. I called it an early night and went home around 8... but not before I had a decent buzz. And this is the part of this prolonged fucked up story where I became a scientist. A drunk, shitty scientist.

See, I didn't have to work Monday. I already had a healthy beer buzz. I had a bottle of rum and a grip of limes. And I had the bottle of Kambucha in the fridge.

Of course I said fuck it. Time to get drunk for the sake of Science.

I tapped out midway through my second lowball of straight rum on ice. To be honest, I didn't even want the second one. I didn't even really want the first one, actually. It just seemed to me that to waste the circumstances, or to not follow through all the way would be folly. Go big or go home, so to speak.

I drank the tea. I hated it. I went to bed.

I woke up with a hangover. Perhaps it may have been worse. I don't know.

Retro me.

After the realization that I came to which I described in the previous post, I found myself gravitating toward the tracks. These are the kind of places that I liked to photograph when I first got into photography about 10 years ago. I used to go there and do detail shots of aged and broken shit. I know, its not original, but its fun. I still like the act of photographing this crap, and I always seem to like the results.



I think I'm going to put together a book filled with nothing but rusted, vacant buildings and shitty old cars. I'm going to send it to Target and tell them that I specialize in weekly circular product photography with a emphasis on women's feminine products.

NE gone wild.

I had this idea at the beginning of doing the NE thing that I would just shoot houses, bars, buildings, etc. That hasn't exactly worked.



You know what though, fuck it man. People that know me would probably tell you that I am quite the orderly person. I keep my surroundings basically uncluttered and my life in general as together as I can. That mental framework is dangerous if left unchecked, though. For instance, I've noticed it at times slithering into my photographic vision. Yeah, if your an ad photographer, having a preconceived vision isn't just beneficial, its kind of essential.



On the other hand, if you're a dude who is just running around taking photos of your neighborhood, your lunch, or whatever else interests you, a uncompromising eye is just too goddamn dangerous.

Therefore, I'm just going to make photos. I'll sort shit out after I'm done.

Truce... broken.

I haven't blogged in a while, yes, but I was on one of the most exhausting jobs I've ever been on. Typing after work seemed daunting, and actually picking up a camera was downright impossible.

The last two nights, though, I got off my ass again and went out to try to make some art. Shitty art, good art, irrelevant and unoriginal art, whatever it takes. It worked too! I got some decent stuff. I even took a picture of that hot dog that I've been wanting to shoot for a few weeks.

I'm telling you this because, as I type, I couldn't give a flying fuck about any of that whatsoever. As I was putting the finishing touches on some NE project worthy photos, I caught a glimpse of this greasy rat-soup motherfucker.



Did he not receive the memo? The Evil Little Geniuses and I had a cordial thing going here so far this summer. They stay the fuck out of my yard, I don't apply lead to their dome piece. Its possible that he knew my stats from last summer, and that about 92% of my registered kills came in the backyard. Perhaps the little gambler was just playing the numbers. Did he realize, though, that I'm sitting on a shit-ton of ammo and its seems like a goddamn waste of money not to use it? In this economy?

I'm not a barbarian. After this one-shot, ultra-clean/fast kill, I at least had the decency remove his corpse from where it lay. A more insensitive man may have let it be run over by my neighbors truck.

I scooped it up in a pizza box and dropped it in the trash.

Mac's Industrial

So I went to Mac's yesterday for some beer and some chess. Right. In addition to that, I was witness to one of the most boss-ass, super burgers that a guy should ever try to wrestle down. And its not one of those "Eat this fucking burger and we'll give it to you free" things... its a regular menu item.

Say hello to the 'Livin' The Dream Burger'.



FYI... that is a slab of special cream cheese along with fried onion rings. Also, I had to ask the man in charge of constructing my edible death wish, Brian Kapke, to leave a bunch of those 'burning rings of fire' off... I'm not sure I had the right lens to get it all in one shot while maintaining the integrity of the background... seriously. Anyway, he was game and did as well at styling this amount of sheer mass as a dude could ever ask.

With the beautiful light on this night, I had grandiose plans of going out after eating and adding some more photos to the NE project. No fucking way. Super fat. It was as much as I could do to make it home and take a half-assed picture of my pantry... from my knees.

NE, sunday

I've been known to jump to conclusions at times when it comes to changes in my neighborhood. As I've stated before, I HATE the 331, The Bulldog, and the Red Stag. Its not only that they're shit, its that they're newcomers. I understand that this is stupid. I understand that I sound like a curmudgeonly, cantankerous old fuck. I don't apply this stupidity to everything, though. Restaurants get a free pass in my idiotic book. Bars do not.

Anyone who has been in this neighborhood long enough probably has a certain amount of nostalgia for Mac's sports bar. No, it wasn't in the mold of the sports bar of today, the mold which has effectively made certain that I will never enter another again. It had true class, real character. So when they knocked the fucker down and put up condos, you can probably imagine my angst.

Then, when a bar opened up across the street and named itself Mac's Industrial Sports Bar(?), I pretty much wrote that one off as well. Fortunately, I'm not quite as inflexible as I come across as being. Its a good place with good beer and good people. I'm not a fan of a bunch of windows in bars, though. Mac's is ALL fucking windows. This works fine in the summer. Come winter, I don't want to see that shit, I want to pretend I'm in Acapulco or something.



I'm even starting to warm up to the goddamn condos across the street. I still think the architects were arrogant pricks to design a building on the cheap that didn't resemble a fucking thing surrounding it, but whatever...

More random NE

I didn't really plan on doing shots like this one for the NE project, but I'm throwing it out there to see how it feels.



Also, I know I said no people, but I had to stick this dude in here somewhere. I figure if I piggyback it onto a church shot for now, somehow that is more acceptable.



Thats impressive huh? The hair, not the church.

100th post!

This is post #100. I can't believe that I stuck with this for as long as I have. As anyone who has been unlucky enough to be peer pressured by myself into following this shit could tell you, it has been strange. I never had any ideas about where it was going and I still don't. Here, though, is a brief chronology of where it has been.

1. A place for friends to view drunk Bay to Breakers photos from San Fran.
2. Random crap.
3. A documentary of the War with the Squirrels.
4. Random crap.
5. Burningman photos.
6. More from the front line of the Squirrel War.
7. Random crap.
8. The food project starts(still going)
9. Random crap.
10. The Northeast project starts



So, thank you to anyone durable enough to have read a bunch of my posts. As you now know, I utilize this blog more as a diary than anything else. And I'm sorry if I have offended anyone with my corse language or crude ideas.

Here is a smattering of some of my favorite entries from the past year

Squirrel War Begins!
The Native American Squirrel Significance Bullshit
Mr. America
Pyka!
Food project starts
The Beer Stick
The Kramarchek's fuck-story
Jimmy's
Modern pot roast
This billboard SUCKS

WATCH YER SHIT!

So I saw a guy on a scooter just get CREAMED the other day by an older woman in a car. Apparently, she saw it fit to take a left out of the right lane of a 3 lane one-way. The poor dude in front of me is proudly putting along at about 30 mpg on his brand new Stella scooter(dealer plates, man, dealer plates...). All of a sudden he has a beige sedan(of course) directly in front of him and WHAP! You can bet your sweet ass that I called the cops and stayed with the dude until the cop got there so I could make sure there was zero misunderstanding as to which party should shoulder the responsibility for this fuck-story.

Then, this morning as I was driving around, and I see this...



I don't know if this guy died via vehicle, or cancer, or raptors or what. I DO know that, weather motorbike or bicycle, this scenario of car vs non-car unfolds far too often in these parts.

So, that having been stated... WATCH YER SHIT!

Excellent effort!

OK, I understand that houses get foreclosed on. They get condemned. Buildings become vacant. All that shit happens as the natural ebb and flow of a community. With that acknowledged, can't people display a little creativity sometimes? Do we always have to perpetuate the same goddamn stereotype of the down and out?



Kudos to whoever blocked this place up. Yeah, it has nothing to do with northeast or food or squirrels or any of the other happy horseshit that usually occupies my posts... but it a damn nice piece of condemnation, no less!

Pairings

This is probably as far as I'm going to drive for the whole food project thing. Pairings is off Hwy. 62 in Minnetonka... and its in exactly the type of development that I have engineered my life to avoid. My friend, Kate, is involved in launching this restaurant, and she invited me to the pre-opening so of course I went.

It was REALLY GOOD! And it doesn't feel like, well, like the rest of the area that it is imbedded in. It has attractive lighting(natural and lamp), an easy layout, and I ate on a 700 lb. wood table... beautiful!



I had a few things, but the one above was a Duck Confit pizza that also has goat cheese, squash, cherries, and arugula. It was absolutely fantastic. I also had one of the best dressings that I can remember. It was a buttermilk of some variety, and it was on a grilled chicken spinach salad. Also bitchin'.



The area that Parings is located in should be indebted to the people behind said restaurant. Here's a fun fact... there are two Starbucks within 150 yards of the Pairings. TWO! Is that necessary? What in the fuck is that about? Well, at least when you're eating at Pairings, you can face West and all you see is road and trees...

Today is the first day of the annual Art-a-Whirl festival in NE Minneapolis. I love the fact that since I've lived here, my neighborhood has gone from moderately 'seedy' to the undisputed artistic hub of the state. My favorite part about the transformation isn't the art, though. My favorite part is the way that the new, young artistic demographic has moved in but has done little to harm the staples that truly anchor the neighborhood.

On any given night, people on opposite sides of, well, everything mingle without friction with one and other. Make no mistake, though, there are exceptions... and the neighborhood would be an even better place if they would just go away. I can think of 3 places off hand that can fuck off. The Bulldog NE, The Red Stag, and the dreaded 331 Club. Really, just go back to Uptown where you belong... there is no shame in that. You're like really fashionably dressed vultures... parasites, even.





These photos are a metaphor which encapsulates my love for this neighborhood. Some people succeed in making art for art's sake. Some people make art on accident.

They both succeed. Only one cares.

The Dark Side

Contrary to popular belief, NE Minneapolis is not ONLY sun-drenched beaches, romantic bay-side cafes, and exotic women frolicking through the streets throwing beads. Actually, its quite drab looking... almost creepy in areas.

This house, while officially in SE(I think), has always been one of my favorites. I know of no other house like it where I live. I know of no other house anywhere that looks like this, actually. Someday, I need to get inside...



This is an intersection 3 blocks from this vampire bomb shelter. Good things come in pairs, I guess.

WWWOOOOOO-WWWWWWOOOOOOO!!!!!

i dun ben drivin' round norfeast fer a cuple days now when i trip 'n fell 'n seent dis here. wwwooooo!!!! check out dem der rubbers!

Mother's Day

After I got done tearing it up with my mom and grandma, it was off to Sean's house in suburb X. I didn't know quite what to expect, because Sean seemed to be buying some of the food... but Aaron was going to be doing the heavy lifting.

Aaron is a friend of mine who did the culinary school/restaurant thing for years. Therefore, I set upon the event with an open mind. I knew as soon as I got there that I was in for the goods.



He was experimenting with frying red bananas. They were then to be skewered and grilled with a bunch of other goodies(see below).





I told you, Aaron doesn't fuck around. He also did a tequila/lime/curry marinade for the marlin steaks and the chicken.



Needless to say, I ate well. The marlin was particularly great. As was the beer. And the company.



Thanks goes to Aaron for the cooking, no doubt. That won't stop a dude from posting a pic of him being run over in chess by the L-train! WWOOOO-WWWOOOOOOOO!!

P.S. This is a late addition to this post, but I can't let this entry go without a pic of Jenny when she is schwasted...

The Favor Cafe

I never went to the Restaurant Miami or Club Miami or Miami or whatever the fuck it was called before it closed. If you know me and know the places I get my drinkin' done, you know that just having the word 'Miami' in your name pretty much eliminates you from getting my liquor money.

It was on Colfax and Lake St., and now its gone. Judging by the decor still left over in what is now The Favor Cafe(a soul restaurant!), it died a deserved death. Really, the whole thing is lit with pink and teal florescent lights. And the translucent stools! So midwestern-Miami. In other words... really, really, super fucking lame.

And, as anyone who has spent 30+ years in Minnesota would rightfully deduce, I didn't expect much from a southern/soul/caribbean restaurant in Minneapolis. I should know better than to think that I know stuff.



OK, the photo sucks. I already explained the lighting, though. I'm not kidding, it could not have been worse. Fortunately, when you spend a shit-ton of money on a camera these days, you can still record what you ate under crap conditions.

Seriously, I'm not a diehard fan of chicken. Its cool, but it never knocks me out because, well, its boring. I had a Jamaican chicken dish here with collard greens, yams, cornbread, etc... I wasn't even hungry when I ordered. It was amazing. I ate EVERYTHING. I had plans to go sing some karaoke that night when I was done. They were derailed by my fat fucking ass. I could barely move. Oh my god it was good. I'm so glad I found this place because I can see myself having yet another craving for this kind of food which can ONLY be satisfied by this kind of food.



This is the view from the bar. Wierd.

NE Project

I started a new project yesterday. It's quite simple. I'm going to drive up and down every block in NE Minneapolis and photograph any and all places that remind me of the area that I've called home for many years. Its going to have a heavy architectural emphasis, but certainly won't be opposed to including the... whatever. The only thing I plan on avoiding is people(at least portraiture). That would just open it up more than I care to think about, and I would risk the whole thing fizzling out.



If you can tell me what bar this is, I'll buy you a beer there.

So, yeah. I'm definitely not planning on blogging the entire project... there will just be too many photos. I'm 2 trips into this and I already have about 15 keepers for the archive... and thats from parts of the Marshall Terrace and Holland neighborhoods. It should be fun.

Risotto

I know someone who recently opened this restaurant. Obviously, thats all the reason I need to get me out of my culinary, dine-out slumber. So off to Lyn-Lake I went.

Now, I'm by no means an Italian food connoisseur. I mean, I make a pretty bitchin' marinara sauce after 10 years of refinement, but thats about as far as it goes. Also, I think my sauce is a bit less Italian, and a bit more... whatever I am.

Anyway, they obviously specialize in real Risotto here. Thats not what I had(due to time constraints)... so I had this instead. Insalata all'astice. If you don't know what that means, you need to brush up on your Italian. With a little patience, you could work your vocab up to 8 words... just like me.



I had a great time here. Patrice and the chef, Gabriele, couldn't have been more hospitable. I look forward to going back for dinner. That may not mean much to you, but if you knew how much I hated that neighborhood at night, it might.

The Strip Club

Brunch. Perhaps the least elegant meal of the week. Pure sustenance. Perhaps you're weekends differ from mine, but I generally find that when I'm eating brunch, I'm moderately hung over from a hard night of studying.

Then, a friend of mine recently informed me that it doesn't have to be like that. Life doesn't have to be like that. Sure, I like 2 eggs sunny side up with hash browns, toast, and a bloody as much as the next guy... but is that where it has to end? After umpteen millions of years of evolution, can we as a people not do better than that?

The Strip Club IS different. I had been there once before for dinner, and was thoroughly impressed(no simple feat since I pride myself on my steak-making ability and steak is what I had). Within 3 minutes of walking in the front door, I was inadvertently talking to the main chef and having my future order honed. This isn't the 4th string, minor league, B-team chef that might normally be slinging hash at a normal restaurant during brunch because the bad-asses worked the night before. This man knew what he was doing, and it shows.



To be honest, the food I photographed above was not my food. Kate has been here for brunch numerous time, and I believe she ordered it for me, knowing it would show up arriving like this. Completely and totally beautiful(as well as exceptionally good... I tried it).

I ordered what the chef, JD Fratzke suggested that I order. Benghazi Chickpea Bowl.



OK, perhaps its not quite as photogenic as Kate's food... I will submit to this. But I will be goddamned if I have EVER had a brunch meal that was as good as this. Ever. Its been a few hours since I had it, and I can't think of one, not ONE. Absolutely the most terrific meal that I've ever had at that time of day and in that state of mind... period.

Before and After... a work in progress.

New ingredients. New techniques. So much work to do...

before.


after.

Nothing doing.

I've had a very slow month of work. Therefore, I stopped going out for lunch on every non-work day. Of course, this takes a bite out of the food project.

Also, I had a VERY bad day at the tax lady's house. I'm not good with numbers, and really not good at the whole mess that is our tax system. Had I been smarter, I would have taken a few precautions to avoid what happened to me on April 14th. It was really, really bad.



This is a perfect depiction of what has happened to the food project, as well as a metaphor for how I feel after taxes.

Black and White Party

A long time friend of mine named Trey threw his second annual Black and White Party at the Hotel Minneapolis downtown on Friday. The only thing he asks is that you wear black, white, or a combination thereof. Trey only charges $5 a head(150 people) and has DJ's to pay, so I know he isn't making much money. What Trey seems to enjoy is getting a mixture of good people together... and he doesn't need an excuse to do it.

Trey doesn't expect much and appreciates everything, so when he approached me about doing some photos, he did it a bit uncomfortably(at least for him). He told me what he wanted. He knew what that would normally cost if you were to hire a professional. He knew that I knew that there was no way he could pay that. I suppose he hoped for the best.

So of course I did it... thats what friends do I guess. Anyway, with the location as beautiful as this(floor, chair), I thought I could get some decent shots. I did.


This is Trey.

Gorditas El Gordo

I was recommended this place by a Mexican friend of mine for its authenticity. They press the masa when you order and fry that shit on the spot. Of course, there is definitely lard somewhere in the mix.



Notice the distinct lack of shitty, melty cheese. Its not that I don't like cheddar-like cheese, I just don't think it has any place on food like this. Queso Fresco... accept no substitute.

While I was eating, I looked up and saw this...



During the course of this project, I've realized how far I've come when it comes to food in the last 15 years. Growing up, I wasn't exposed to much variety and quality in culinary experiences. We ate pretty healthy(thankfully)... it just didn't taste too good. Fortunately, when you have a metabolism running at light speed, you really don't care. I could eat, and would eat, most anything... including as much fast food as I could get my hands on. I remember really thinking that McDonald's was a good restaurant.

Oh well, live and learn I guess. And other than a few occasions with unsavory consequences... here is to 11 years without fast food.

Nala Pak

This used to be the Udupi Cafe. That name pulls on the heart-strings for vegetarians and Indian food lovers across the metro area. Since it switched management, I've had mixed results, but its still 90% vegan, and I still have major communication problems with the people working there. So thats good, at least.

What sucked today was that they no longer have a menu during lunch hours. Buffet only. Buffets make me feel like a fat fuck. Like I'm lining up at the trough with all the other fat fucking heifers. Not only that, but I'm not a chef, and I'm especially not an Indian chef. I'm not sure how things are supposed to go together, or even what is supposed to go together. So, I lined up at the trough, looked at the pretty colors, and threw this shit together.



Nala Pak was COMPLETELY empty when I went there today. But get this, while I was walking in, I saw a woman that I work with occasionally coming in at the same time. I kind of felt like I should have sat with her, because we're cool. When I'm doing the photo thing, though, I generally need the whole table so I asked for my own. I felt like such an ASSHOLE!