Vanessa’s Dumpling House on Bedford Avenue in Brooklyn (and, apparently, Manhattan too) is an aluminium clad saviour. Serving good Chinese food in a fast, canteen-style setting, Vanessa’s seemed to readily and purposefully attract a consistent trickle of inebriated hipsters (such as myself).
Behind a languid youth stood at a till was a wall menu displaying incredibly reasonable prices for a wide array of food.
How does a human qualify for a St. Patrick’s Day parade?
It turns out there are many angles and they are either very loosely or not at all related to Irishness.
One way to waltz down spectator thronged thoroughfares is simply to be in possession of a canine. Several furry fellows slinked their way past the applauding masses in downtown Cleveland on Paddy’s Day — a big ‘well done’ to all those humans for being in the coveted realm of dog ownership!
Other than the Irish Wolfhounds, most dogs seemed to qualify as Irish by being forced to don some green attire by their cheery overlords. In fact, this was grounds enough for anyone or anything to be Irish: green beer, green voovoozalas (best known for ruining the 2010 World Cup), green candy floss, green sunglasses — you get the picture and it is green. …
Musings of the perennial outsider
Coming from a vastly different planet can be trying. Constant reminders of the differences between the two corners of the cosmos swarm around you. Whether it is the quizzical amusement on a face when you use the word ‘fortnight’, the infuriating, pleasant inquiries about whether your accent is from Australia or the looks of incomprehension from fellow road users when one’s transportation vessel actually seems to be following the speed limit. Yes, all of these factors and more contribute to the perennial feeling of being ‘other’.
Eventually, after trying to swat away these differences in vain, something caves. At least, an outward part of you does: you finally desist from clinging on to some of your own cultural benchmarks. You begin using words like ‘soccer’, ‘store’ changes from being a verb to a noun and the apparently overly polite British pleasantry ‘you’re welcome’ is often replaced by a distracted sounding ‘uh hmm’ (thus eliminating the small contrived gratitude and skipping to a more honest, mild contempt). …
And could teach you…
So, you have quit your job and you want to become a writer.
Well, a person does not just become a writer. We all have it in us, it is just a matter of learning what makes it truly reveal itself.
“Quote from a respectable writer about joy or hardship of writing”
We all know about that stumbling block which grips you at the gut. Sure, you have some great ideas but they just won’t come out. …
The Yorkshire Alien is here once again to extol bargain laden wisdom from New Orleans. This time to explore the most revered and sacred time of the adult human’s vacation — the evening. A time when expectations of ‘having a good time’ reach a strangling fever pitch and when, often, the reckless plundering of your bank balance increases double or even triple fold.
Never is this personal plundering more the case than when one is in a city like New Orleans. …
The Yorkshire Alien is back on the very top of the earth’s firm mantle, staring sea level square in the face on the streets of New Orleans.
Outer planetary correspondence from the Galactic Committee of Saving has delivered a firm missive. In a stern telepathic diktat, they instruct that, despite being in New Orleans, a place seemingly designed for outsiders to indulge and occasionally jab around at culture, I must stay true to the free-time ergon, never abandon the carefully constructed values of caution and refrain from unsettling the harmonious balance between mirth and smug. …
Struck down by a succession of earth calendar life commemoration frivolities, The Yorkshire Alien has been away for a week in the alluring gloom of New Orleans.
Much has happened in that worm-hole of debauchery and very little of it has satisfied my thrift-based mission statement. Nonetheless, bargain coordinates will be suggested so you can make your thrifty way through the gooey mirth that seeps from NOLA’s cracked pavements.
However, before examining New Orleans’ terra firma, I want to recount tales of a swamp trip around the murky corners of the bayou. A similar landscape I have not seen since visiting the Yoda’s Dagobah for his big 800th bash. …
Or, perhaps, a metaphorical brown paper bag of social decency has simply hidden U.S. alcohol consumption and kept it at home (this of course allowing for the critical advantage that a human can stay within a 20-meter radius of their personal road shuttle at all times)?
They all add to the smorgasbord of madness that is an NBA game. $18.95 and a (1/2) cents worth of NBA game I hasten to add.
This Yorkshire Alien has been on their first value-driven excursion into native sporting culture — a real-life NBA game!
Hold on, this is not a cheap exercise!? Well, apparently now there is now a huge chasm left by he who shall not be named in the Cleveland Cavaliers — it is!
The only (significant) downside is that you are probably going to see the Cavaliers lose. …