Whoa. I'm sorry. This updating thing is going to take some practice.

I write like a demon in my blog. I don't really use it as a blog, exactly; the definition of a blog is something closer to interesting and/or timely links with commentary than to extemporanous self-centered journalism. It's just so convenient for impulse writing.

But LiveJournal is blogging software, despite my persistent use of it as a journal, and the credibility of a journal drops automatically when it's hosted there (with apologies to Brad; it's that goth-chick ratio). For anyone not following me: you can train a mule to jump fences like a horse, but it will never be a horse. And which would you rather watch?

The idea here is not to write from simple inspiration. The idea is to write with structure, economy, and more than one draft, and to do that several times a week. The hell with my muse; my writing needs discipline.

It's the middle of the night and you're hungry. The big delivery service is closed. Domino's is absolutely out of the question. What do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO?

Those of you who said, "Shoot the hostage," are excused. For the rest of us, there's Chinatown.

Periodically, someone comes through the building and sticks menus from a restaurant in Chinatown under the doors. I suspect he's got some sort of deal running with the super. I have no idea what I did with the last menu, so I went down to the mailroom. The mailroom usually has stacks of local papers and menus and unclaimed FedExes and so on, but not this time.

I was more successful in the foyer, where I found a single Chinese delivery menu. They're open until 2:30am. I brought the menu upstairs.

The people behind this menu are trying to appeal to the yuppie demographic. They have half a page in Chinese English on the healthful nature of their food, speed of delivery, and exclusive use of canola oil (as opposed to Lard Oil, according to the menu). It reads like something Neal Stephenson would write. Some highlights:

We care about the health of our customers. We are using great amount of garlic which can help to prevent cancer and kill germs and bacteria thus increasing healthy.

Translation: Not good video-and-takeout-date food, unless you're trying to shake someone off. Okay, let's compare with Stephenson's Chinese English:

Whether seriously in business or on a fun-loving hijink, make yourself totally homely in this meager environment.

Back to the menu:

Our master Chef had trained over 100 cookers. Back in China, he had been work for a very famous big restaurant with great fame.

Stephenson:

If coupons are lacking, dial 1-800-HONG KONG to apply from the help of our wizened operators.

Menu:

We are renowned for our ability to handle over 100 deliveries for far or close with quick speed.

See what I mean? How can I call these people without asking for Hiro Protagonist, Stephenson's, well, hero-protagonist?

And there's lettering across the top of the menu which reminds us: EVERYTHING COOKED WITH GARLIC. I like garlic in small doses. I'm not sure about garlic in my lo mein.

Chinatown. I used to go to Chinatown when I played pool, which (after college) was 1993-1995 or so. We went to Chinatown for the same reason we went to the poolroom at the bowling alley on Morrissey Boulevard or the IHOP (International House of Pancakes) way the hell out Soldiers Field Road: it was open all night.

I used to hang with a hustler I'll call Jim (because the pool world is a small world, and the web creates the strangest coincidences, and his name is not Jim) who liked Chinatown. He bought me dinner one night after a win. We were somewhere near the arch and the food was good and it was just us and a couple of aging Chinese gangsters in the place at three in the morning.

They say they'll cook without garlic if you ask. Do you think they mean it? Or will I simply find myself rid of both vampires and dates for the foreseeable future? Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Wish me luck, and stay tuned to Radio Free Swerve.