I Am Writing This Post With an Empty Diet Dr Pepper Can On My Desk, But Also a Strong Sense of Regret in My Heart

And when the guy scooped up the white chicken, fluttering and sqwaking, and put it into the metal cone, head-down, my friend cringed. And then the guy took a knife to the now-calm chicken's throat, and my friend gasped and sank lower into his seat. I patted his knee and said, "It's okay. It lived a happy chicken life. And these are the good guys."

To back up a small step, when the film took us to this farm, I sat up and smiled. When the film showed us its owner, chatting easily to the camera while gutting de-feathered chickens, my friend squirmed, but I do believe I sighed. (Michael Pollan had never told me that farmer was such a fox.)

To back up a little more: we were at Food, Inc., the An Invonvenient Truth of the food industry. I've read my Michael Pollan and my Eric Schlosser, so I mostly knew the story. But I'd never seen it, and I'm glad I did. (I'm also glad, in a selfish way, to have gone in knowing what I know, buying my vegetables where I do, happening to be an 11-year vegetarian. Those preconditions meant I left more inspired than disturbed, and that I wasn't afraid to eat when I got home.)

I would like to create a mandatory curriculum for America. It is based on the premise that you should know what is in what you eat, and where it came from and how. Ideally there would be farm trips, gardening practicals, cooking lessons. I would really like a trip to a farm, actually. Not just for hot farmers - I have mad garden envy.

But for starters, I've got a two-books-and-a-movie mini-plan: The Omnivore's Dilemma; Fast Food Nation; Food, Inc.

Nothing in these materials dictates choices or tells you what to do. There may be a few suggestions, but primarily they're informational: This is what's going on. Do with that knowledge what you will.

I read Fast Food Nation a couple of years ago. Even as an accidental 11-year vegetarian I was not entirely exempted from its illumination of the dark corners of the American diet. (Seriously, have you heard about the corn industry? Eesh.) The Omnivore's Dilemma last summer was an even greater eye-opener, tracking food's journey through four paths to the plate - industrial farming; industrial organic; small-scale organic (my beloved Polyface Farms of the aforementioned kind chicken slaughter); hunting and foraging. I'd already been a greenmarket devotee, but the book confirmed my passion and gave me facts and inspiration. And just as much as those books influenced my choices, they were fascinating and informative.

And then, last night, Food, Inc. For my friend, a bleeding-heart commie revolutionary who happened not to have read those books, the information was rather new, and hit him hard. For me, the film offered a visual component previously absent from my food system learnings. I had read about CAFOs, but now I've seen them. (I don't know what that'd've done to me if I weren't a vegetarian. But I am definitely still a vegetarian.) I've read about Monsanto's persecution of corn and soybean farmers, and the absurd and unfightable seed-saving rules and lawsuits, but now I've seen the faces of the farmers whose lives have been ruined.

On the positive side, it was practically magical to get to see Polyface Farms, to hear Joel Salatin (a fox in both crazy and hotness) speak so passionately about what he does, blue eyes blazing behind giant 1973 glasses. Polyface is the idealized small-scale, animal- and planet-friendly farm that is the star of the third part of The Omnivore's Dilemma, an agrarian utopia in the Shenandoa Valley run by this brilliant and charismatic libertarian Christian. I once met someone who'd been there, an even more passionate Pollanite than I, and it was as if... I dunno, as if he'd been on the Space Shuttle, to put it in different nerd terms. ("Is it as amazing as it seems in the book?" "Yes." "Ooh.") And on film it lived up to its promise - happy cows browsing in green fields, pigs snuffling about in the woods while Joel Salatin lounges next to them and gets passionate at the camera. He's hot, sure, but I also think he's right.

But I don't think that I or anyone else should tell people how or what to eat. What I do believe, very strongly, is that our choices about food should be informed, and for the most part are not. We don't know where our food comes from. We don't know how the animals we eat live or die. And we don't want to, most of the time, because it's (thanks, Al Gore), inconvenient. Look, knowing where Doritos come from has, alas, not stopped me from ever eating Doritos. But to say, "I don't wanna know - I like my hamburgers!" means you already know something's not right, and won't face it. So you push that doubt down, push it out of your mind. If you want to eat hamburgers, eat freaking hamburgers. Just don't lie to yourself to be able to do it.

[All photos of Polyface Farms and their animals, from various internet sources, the google search for which makes me feel like everyone's been to Polyface except me, which makes me sad.]

Meganerd Radiotime

Last night I was honored to be on my beloved TBTL, proclaiming to the tens of listeners what a raging nerd I am. A little ways back (via Grant Imahara's twitter feed, for bonus nerd points) I came across this blog post, How to Meet and Woo a Nerdy Girl. I sent the link to Jen at TBTL, and she had me on the show to discuss the post and nerd identity in general, and to start every sentence with, "Yah, I mean..." You can listen here, and enjoy my post-valley girl speech tics, around which one could build a very efficient drinking game. How lovely that people so want to do this that they need a guide. We are such elusive quarry.

spoiler alert: this is how.

[Insert Myriad Avenue Q/Ragtime References Here]

When I read the news that Avenue Q would be closing, I said, out loud, at my desk, at work, with other people in the office, a sad "Oh no." I realize the show has had a tremendous run, many times longer than what one would think a small-scale adult-themed off-Broadway-transfer puppet musical could sustain. I remember watching the Tonys the year it came out, and the tremendous hope that came with its win - this small, sharp, brilliant show triumphing over a bloated, overhyped, dramaturgical and aesthetic trainwreck. That June evening, anything seemed possible - the underdog had won, and we were all the underdog.

Fun fact: the friend whose apartment we were in went on to be in the Avenue Q tour, and even played Princeton on Broadway for I think three performances.

And when I went back to see him in it, I was reminded what an awesome, tight show it is. Thematically, lyrically, musically, everything's woven together in a way that makes my little dramaturg's heart flutter. I can never get over the lyrical brilliance of "For Now," the double-edged reassurance and warning. Okay, and yes, totally vulgar puppets. They are also awesome.

So, Avenue Q, I honor you, and your improbably long, well-earned run. Vineyard Theatre, ye off-Broadway home for daring shit, I honor you. Tony voters, with the hope you offered that one year and then seemed to rescind, hell, I honor you, too. The internet is for porn, everyone's a little bit racist, and everything in life is only for now. Oh, and put your finger there.

* * *

In news of Broadway arrivals, rather than departures, I have gotten the impression that I should be ashamed to be this excited about Ragtime coming back to Broadway. I will not be. My love for this musical (documented here) springs from a nostalgic ground, having spent a full summer in high school driving around with two beloved friends singing this shit. But I have looked at my love with a cool head and clear eyes, and I believe it is real. Yes, there is the nostalgic component, but I believe it to be a pretty damn awesome musical. 50 people on stage, singing out full-voiced? Awesome. The Henry Ford song? Awesome. Okay, yes, "Gliding" is boring as shit, and "I call them mooooo-ooovie books!" is ridiculous, and maybe the musical tries to be too epic, and relies too much on sweeping, stirring music, but it is waaaay better than Les Miz, don't even front.

But whoever came up with "Fireworks!" for the Playbill.com headline was trying to win, like, a Most Obscure Reference contest. May I suggest "My People Were Also Brought Here On Ships"? Because, they were.

they're right, that is totally how jews dance.
i imagine the photo just couldn't capture the bootyshaking on the other side of the stage.

Read This Book! (If You Haven't Already): In Defense of Food

I don't know what I can say about In Defense of Food, Michael Pollan's follow-up to The Omnivore's Dilemma. It's an important, important book. It's a fun, fast, read. It's interesting and enjoyable. It will teach you information and give you new ways to think and see the world. I hope that it changed the way I eat and think about food. Everyone should read it. Even if you don't think you're interested. Even if you're all, Waah, I don't want to feel guilty about how I eat. The very idea that you could feel guilty about how you eat is a problem, no? Both that you're afraid some book will reveal the (not-so-)secret evil in your diet, and also that food is a fucking nexus of guilt. But also of misinformation and backwards thinking, which is the point of this book.

I guess that that's what I can say about In Defense of Food, at least for starters. I happen to be an extra special nerd for this sort of thing, but it's really a book that every single person in America ought to read. At least.

I guess I can also say that, having listened to The Omnivore's Dilemma as an audio book, there were a few times during In Defense of Food (reading on old-fashioned paper), that Pollan's writing voice was strong enough to make me hear the book, in my head, in the voice of the actor who read the audio book. Which I listened to almost a year ago. I thought that was kinda fun.

Awesomesauce: Sax & Dixon at Ars Nova

Okay, so what would you think if you saw this:

This world premiere from innovative sketch fusioneers Matt Sax and John Dixon melds fast-paced comic thrills with an expansive collection of intricately interwoven characters. Caught in the wicked gravitational pull of matrimony, families collide, exes surface and even the wedding band doesn't escape unscathed, as this high-octane duo takes sketch comedy to a new frontier. Come sneak into the hotel ballroom for the kind of excitement only a couple of vows can provide.

[Emphasis de moi.] That's the blurb for Ars Nova's show, Sax & Dixon: We Thee Wed (I should point out the names of the performers being in the title, too), which I saw last night. And I LOVED it. There was a point, either as the show was starting or the first time they mentioned a crab, that I thought that every time I ever come to Ars Nova, there will be a little part of my heart that's sad I'm not seeing Jollyship. But by the end of the show, that wistfulness was erradicated, wiped out by a hilarious, weird, surprisingly (occasionally) emotionally effecting show. (Oddly, adjectives very similar to those used to describe Jollyship. Just not "piratical.")

But it's been irking me that this brilliant, funny show has been marketed as something that it's not. You put the two names as the title, call it a sketch comedy thing, and I'm expecting... sketch comedy. I'm expecting Matt Sax and John Dixon to maybe be the main characters, the wedding story to be maybe some true-ish story. What I wasn't expecting was the much more sophisticated and exciting show that We Thee Wed actually is. In form and style it's sort of like a solo show but with two actors - they each play a dozen vivid characters without a single costume change, whirling through crowd scenes as sharply as Nilaja Sun in No Child. And the thing is hella funny, but I wouldn't call it sketch comedy - there are scenes, sure, but plays have scenes, and in storytelling and character and scope, this is really a play, or at least theatre. Definitely not an assemblage of sketches. I mean, it's one (epic, awesome) story. Maybe these guys started as a sketch duo, but just like Mike Birbiglia evolved Sleepwalk With Me into a solo show from stand-up, Sax & Dixon: We Thee Wed has come far enough from sketch to be something else entirely.

But marketing nitpicks aside - and I'm nitpicking because I think that a more accurate marketing framework could've benefitted the show, and also benefitted Ars Nova, an institution that was very excitingly branching into theatrical producing a year or two ago, and if this show is a continuation of that trend, they should shout it from the freaking mountains - I really mean to just sing this show's praises. (Though maybe they didn't want to scare off theatre-haters by calling it a play or something...) My one regret is not seeing it earlier in the run - I want to give everyone I know a chance to see it, and could probably be convinced to see it again. I saw Matt Sax do his multi-character transformational thing in Clay at LCT3, and the same elasticity is on display again here. John Dixon is less rubbery, but he works a different alchemy, still transforming somehow. The way the story is woven together is pretty brilliant, too, all coming together in a manic collision. There are three performances left - tonight, Friday, and Saturday, all at 8pm, and if you can get tickets, do. Whatever this show is, it's delightful and hilarious, a little gift of joy.

Port Authority: Now Just 99.2% As Vile As Before (Greenmarket Report)

No big surprise – when I heard about the new greenmarket (It feels wrong to call an indoor market, especially in that godforsaken place, a greenmarket – let’s stick with farmers market, despite its ambiguous apostrophe situation) okay, the new farmers (/farmer’s/farmers’) market opening today in Port Authority, I was excited. What is one of my favorite things in the world? The farmers market. What did I just write a love letter to for my first piece of professional volunteer freelance writing? The farmers market. What hideous monstrosity of bad associations and general unpleasantness do I work a block away from? Port Authority. Best of both worlds!

Also, this Saturday will be the second Saturday in a row that I can’t get to Union Square for my vegetables, so it was good timing.

Unfortunately, the just-two-tables-so-far do not yet make an awesome greenmarket. Or farmers market. One table’s mostly baked goods and strawberries (and apples that are really starting to show their age), and the other, very prettily arranged table sells mad overpriced vegetables. $3 for a pound of zucchini? $3 per quarter pound of kale? I don’t think so.

Also, there are klieg lights glaring on the set-up, which are maybe an improvement over the general lighting of the terminal, but really now.

I was hoping that the presence of a farmers market could make me hate Port Authority with slightly less burning a passion. (The place’s own awful ambiance is augmented by my associations of impending and just-completed epic bus journeys through the wilds of northern New Jersey and back and forth to Providence. Also, its own awful ambiance.) If the market ever expands beyond an overpriced but pretty mise-en-scène, it might become a helpful emergency vegetable source, definitely more in line with my usual vegetable ethics than Stiles on 9th Ave – super cheap but hardly local, there. But yeah, Port Authority still makes me want to stick a knife in my eye.

I did get interviewed by a very nice lady from WFUV, though. So I guess listen for that?

Prices I remember:
zucchini - $3/lb
kale - $3/lb
nappa cabbage - either $3/head or /lb
broccoli - $3/small bunch
strawberries - $3/pint (much more in line with normal greenmarket prices)
cider donuts - $0.75 each (seems to be the standard price, not that I'm intimately familiar with greenmarket donut pricing)

Here is Something Lovely

It's not like I'm inundating you with blogging at the moment or anything, so here's a website (found via, yes, Cute Overload) that's pretty wonderful. My Milk Toof.

When I was young, I placed my baby teeth under my pillow and when i woke up I'd find a shiny new quarter. But whatever happened to those little teeth? Where did they go? Would I ever see them again? Many years later, a little tooth was standing at my door. It looked familiar. It's name was ickle. Welcome home, my milk toof!

Milk teef need baths...


And apparently like the sea:


I promise the stories and photography stop it from being cloying or twee. Okay, it's twee, but it's also awesome.