22 August 2025
We visited Warren-kun last weekend in his fire lookout tower near Magdalena. A little mid-century studio on stilts, surrounded by windows. Layers of thick lead paint over rusted metal and wood, wouldn’t look out of place in Echo Park.
A tall swiveling captain’s chair with a 30 year ass print on it. A little gas range with an oven. A sink with no faucet. A twin bed covered in a surplus wool blanket. A small bookshelf with Arendt and Sebald. A screen door with no screen.
We brought some ground lamb from the Co-op, having talked about lahmacun the last time we had dinner. He got on the radio and clocked out. Time to get to it. He rolled out the dough and spread the spiced lamb thinly. Sliced onions and sumac. Outside on a little rickety walkway, one of those fancy propane pizza ovens.
Warren is a conjurer. That much was clear from day one. The cardamom buns took me to a place I had never been before. Stockholm or Gothenburg. The soft pretzel took me home. Sprinkling the sumac on the lahmacun was pure Bodrum, a place he’s never been. We’ve carved out parallel lives in Santa Fe over the past few years, and can silently commiserate with one another, or talk a lot of shit. This time we just ate. I pulled out the ghormeh sabzi we had scored from a crypto-Persian place off I-40. Greek my ass. He had some babaganoush from Al-Quds saved in the propane fridge. What a feast.
An hour before sunset the sun reaches the horizon and pours light right through the lookout tower. It feels like high noon. We laid in the gravel surrounded by wildflowers with the last of the birthday sake. Taiheizan. Great peaceful mountain, summed it up nicely. Russell’s favorite, drunk from tiny enamel mugs.
Sometimes I feel like Prometheus. Having my liver torn out by some enormous bird only for it to regenerate the next day and start again.
“Foresight is the curse.”
I think in the mythology it was a great eagle, a symbol of Zeus that tortured old Prometheus. A pack of cute little dark-eyed juncos landed and started hopping around us menacingly.
Oh god, they’re here. Nooo!
We started to laugh hysterically. I couldn’t tell you why. Only if you had ice cold Taiheizan dribbling from your mouth could you understand the absurdity. Tears rolling down our faces.
Ahh, I said, taking another sip, as the juncos tore out my liver. Just another day.
The following morning I did the rounds on the rickety veranda. There was the feeling of being at sea. A hazy marine layer and distant storms which descended from the peaks in every direction. Not everyone understands the oceanic nature of the West. Great prehistoric bodies of water which are now cleared, like walking the sands of a parted sea. To see for miles in every direction in the thin air of ten thousand feet. Columns of rain, clouds above clouds, lightning bolts and thunder bouncing off canyon walls. I get it now.
Cheers, Warren. This is all right.
I could see the Very Large Array in the distance. A formation of massive satellite dishes pointed to the heavens.
Remember that movie Contact?
“Oh yeah, filmed here.”
It had been a formative film for Jaimie as a ten year old non-believer. Me? I believed in Santa until fairly recently and never saw the movie.
A long hike down a fire road with the usual refreshments. Warren stayed in the tower watching over us. A storm rolled in that had us about to turn around. At ten thousand feet you could be hit by lightning from below.
Strike me down, you coward. I screamed at Zeus. A low rumble. Crickets.
We managed to drag ourselves upstairs to be assaulted by the evening light and make dinner. A plate of seared scallops so soft we ate them with spoons. Like the most delicate custard, its sweet brine almost vulgar.
At night we laid in the candlelit dark eating tortillas with butter and honey, taking turns with the stereo. He played me his evening ritual songs from Arvo Pärt. I broke out Trans Europa Express in the original German. That version of Spiegelsaal, its eery chorus. The hall of mirrors.
“Sogar die größten Stars, Mögen sich nicht im Spiegelglas.” Even the greatest stars, dislike themselves in the looking glass. We smiled at each other. Shaking heads.
Packing up the car the following morning I fantasized about a life of isolation. I had made it two days as an apprentice lookout and was completely charmed. The sun kissed golden earth, hills which roll like pyramids. Driving down the dirt road, the dry salt grass smelled of tatami. Uncorking something dark and eternal is very much the human condition. Can’t go back to the days pre-Ozu, or even pre-newsletter. We are ruled by the things we create.
Arrived home late that night and got Contact going on the TV. It was so bad and 90s in the best possible way. Sentimental and full of shit, typical of the era. Matthew McConaughey, in full flower, plays a sort of freelance “author and theologian” incredibly. He walks in and out of important meetings with the President as only a dim-witted spiritual leader could, romancing Jodie Foster in his time off, advancing the plot with inane exposition. Speaking of our doomed species, he drops a monologue for the ages, which must be read in the Dazed and Confused cadence and brogue.
“You're capable of such beautiful dreams, and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you're not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we've found that makes the emptiness bearable, is each other.”
Jaimie! We need more sake!
temaki
choice of blue crab, maguro, kanpachi namerou, or ikura
sesame miso bagna fredda
local raw vegetables with an umami-rich anchovy dip
hiyashi salad
local lettuces, radish, cucumber, sesame ginger dressing
kyuri sunomono
vinegared cucumber & seaweed salad
kanpachi namerou
tartare of raw kanpachi*, white miso, ginger, shiso, over rice
white anchovy salad with shiso vinaigrette
marinated white anchovies over local greens with fresh shiso dressing
scallop ceviche
raw sea scallops, sudachi, ikura, aonori
black cod saikyo yaki bento
roasted black cod marinated in miso, over Japanese rice with hiyashi salad and pickles
hamachi bento
raw yellowtail over sushi rice with hiyashi salad, pickles
seared scallop bento
seared sea scallops over Japanese rice, hiyashi salad & pickles
maguro bento
raw bluefin tuna over sushi rice with hiyashi salad, pickles
chirashi
raw hamachi, tuna, scallop, shima aji, tai, ikura over sushi rice*
basque cheesecake
yuzu coconut rice pudding
sesame miso cookie