So, this week I received an email from my dad’s brother (the significance of that is here, here and here) who I haven’t seen in 25 years. I called him about ten or eleven years ago but I might have been drunk. Those early twenties were a bit jangly. But he found me through the blog and wrote and I wrote back and we’ll see how it plays. It’s hella weird. I spent a day or so with a sick fucking knot in my gut alternating between a profound sense …

People deserve what they get.  But, please, in the name of all that is holy, go out and vote for Barack Obama.  Go volunteer.  And for godsakes if you’re in California stand up and tell those fucking Christians (and Mormons and all the other whack jobs) to go and suck it.  No on Prop 8.  Don’t fuck it up.

This is probably my new favorite place in Brazil. A little buteco in Santo Antônio owned by the most incredible guy. They had a brief mention in the New York Times last year which is proudly displayed above the bar.
Get your feet wet at Mercearia Lili (Rua São João Evangelista, 696, Santo Antônio, 55-31-3296-1951), a regular participant in Comida di Buteco. It is one bar of many in Santo Antônio, an upscale neighborhood of steep hills that require superhuman parallel parking skills or, preferably, use of the city’s metered taxis.
The …