A Mitski Visitation

I have developed a habit of going to King’s Theater with my friend Serena.

We have similar taste in music, and we both enjoy a seated theater. I invited her to see St. Vincent there when Mary gave us some tickets that she couldn’t use, and Maya couldn’t go either. Serena thanked me for that later with a ticket to see King Krule, although now that I think of it, I guess she should have thanked Mary. Either way, both shows were excellent, and as I mentioned, seated.

When she saw a presale on Mitski tickets at Kings six months ago, Serena got us seats at the very back of the room. Her sister Ashlyn decided to come along at the last minute and effortlessly snagged a seat in the fifth row for the same price we had paid in the presale. Modern life is just baffling.

There were no lines at the bars in Kings, which was odd, but it was a young crowd, and we’ve heard that the kids these days don’t drink. When there wasn’t even any weed vape in the air though, it became clear that this wasn’t a typical night at Kings. Here’s how the reviewer at Consequence of Sound described the previous evening:

“With several moments of deafening silence in between songs, it would have been easy for eager fans to take the opportunity to shout something or capture some attention. But while the beginning of the set featured some of that slight unease, once it settled, you could hear a pin drop between songs.”

This is true, and it was so weird! The crowd, myself included, were struck dumb. I’d call Mitski’s command of her crowd cultish, or even creepy, if I hadn’t fallen completely under her spell myself. Her voice is narcotizing: pure sonic honey poured into your ears, and her peculiarly clear diction makes it possible to pay attention to her idiosyncratic lyrics. I hadn’t gotten as into the last two albums as I had Bury Me at Makeout Creek or Be The Cowboy, so when she sang this I had never noticed before how great it was:

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room
With all its opinions about the things that I've done
So, yeah, I blast music loud, and I work myself to the bone
And on an inconvenient Christmas, I eat a cake

Same, Mitski, same.

I guess the crowd isn’t always quite so respectful, and sometimes those long silences do cause people to scream dumb things, which bums her out, and she talks about getting out of the business. It’s probably exhausting to be Bob Dylan for your generation. For now, during her pop star incarnation, catch this show if you can.

Pet Sematary

I have boring politics (Trump is a fascist, holding my nose to vote again for Biden) and I promise not to bother you with them here, other than to say that I was pretty mad at Jon Stewart for spending his first episode back at The Daily Show talking about Biden’s age. This both-sides nonsense is what he came out of retirement to say? Go back to your stupid pony farm or whatever.

But then, this week, he broke down weeping on TV about his recently-passed tripod brindle pittie:

Oh my god. You’ve won this round, Stewart. I’ll keep watching. I’m back, you got me.

Apropos of nothing, this is Griffin, who left us in 2019:

And this is Kingston, who lived with our friend Kristen, and who went over the rainbow bridge last month:

Having a dog is like living with a ticking sadness bomb. It’s worth it, but sheesh. Let’s talk about something else.

New Pete Wells pan dropped

Is it even technically schadenfreude to enjoy a bad review of a place where dinner costs $225?

“Each course was served with precise instructions on how to transport it from plate to mouth. Not that I blame the servers. When diners at restaurants like this aren’t given any instructions, they become so confused they’ll ask what “chef recommends.” Seeing a restaurant full of grown adults waiting for permission to eat with a spoon really makes you wonder how it is that humans haven’t died out yet.”

The Jakubowicz Coffee System: Pour-over for the rest of us

Hey, you know how pour-over coffee is nonsense for fancypantses? Yeah, I know.

I totally agree with you.

Except.

When I met Maya and her sister they had been living together for a few years, growing gradually more eccentric and perfecting their weird sister behaviors. Thankfully, Ben and I eventually came along and ended their alternative lifestyle before they turned into full-on witches.

One of the weird things they did was pretty much live on pour-over coffee. I am not too proud to say that had I had a Keurig at that point, a Christmas gift, and had basically forgotten what coffee was supposed to taste like. The sisters taught me this unpretentious technique for making a single cup for yourself, which is still how we mostly drink coffee. Here’s what you do:

Buy one of these, usually for around five bucks. That’s right, the plastic kind. Don’t get a ceramic one, or a glass one, or a Japanese one, unless you live in Japan. Don’t get a Chemex, although they do look stylish on a breakfast table if you’re making coffee for a crowd. Otherwise, this one is fine:

Then get some of these, for two bucks:

You do not need to wash the filter out with boiled water. You do not need to perform origami on it, although we do fold it along the bottom seam so that it stays open in the plastic thing.

Next, put two tablespoons of medium-grind coffee in the filter. You don’t need an expensive burr grinder (although they are nice). You don’t need to weigh the coffee, or the water. The coffee does not need to have been eaten and pooped out by a civet. I can’t stress that last part enough.

You do need a source of near-boiling water. While not strictly necessary, it helps to have an electric gooseneck kettle. This one goes for around $90, although you can spend a little less, or a whole lot more on one:

The gooseneck helps you get water exactly where you want it to go. You don’t need a whole goofy pouring ritual, but you will notice that after you wet the grounds they will cling to the filter, and you’ll want to be able to herd them with the precise stream from the skinny neck. And you want electric so you can dial in a specific, sub-boiling temperature. (The most annoying recurring fight that Maya and I have is about water temperature: I prefer around 204, she likes 208, and we both change the setting on the kettle every time we use it. It is maddening. We are crazy people.)

The Jakubowicz method employs a three-part pouring process:

First you add just enough water to wet all of the grounds, and let it sit for about twenty seconds. Supposedly this makes the coffee taste better, I have no idea, I do it anyway.

Then you add enough water to nearly fill the filter, about half a cup of coffee, and let it mostly drain through.

Finally you run the gooseneck around the edge of the filter, getting all of the grounds back to the party, until the cup is full.

That’s pretty much it. If you do it right the whole process should take about five minutes, most of that in waiting for the kettle to heat up.

Also, this is obviously not an efficient way to make coffee, and is slightly wasteful. Feel free to yell at me, and by extension Maya and her sister, in the comments.