reviews

Snooze Is Nearly Asleep

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There are plenty of places to get a great brunch in Denver, Snooze isn’t one of them. Snooze has some great things going for it. Snooze also has some problems. Unfortunately, in this case, the bad outweigh the good.

My party arrived as a group of six. This may be more than Snooze is accustomed to but is by no means an outrageously sized group, particularly for brunch, which is often a friends and family affair. Sorry Snooze, I’m not letting you use that as an excuse. Despite being both seated and served quickly, our service was poor. Each of us had to ask for at least one of our drinks multiple times. We each had water and at least one more drink like a coffee, mimosa or bloody mary, but this is common for brunch too. A large party ordering multiple drinks is no reason not to bring us our order. We had a conversation that went very similar to this:

Wait staff: Can I get you anything else?
Me: Yeah, you could get me a water and him a coffee (pointing to my dad who ordered the coffee when we sat down).
Friend: I’d like a water too, please.
Waitstaff: Okay a water and a coffee then.
Friend: No, I’d like a water too.
Waitstaff: *stares into space*
Me: That’s two waters and a coffee.
Waitstaff: Okay, two waters and two coffees.
Me & Friend simultaneously: Sure.

The way our waitress was acting she must have been on the opening 1:30 A.M. shift. No excuse when you are competing with the 24 hour diners on Colfax who have waitresses sharper than Manolo four-inch heel. The best part was when she came over asking, “How is everything?” when we were still waiting on two of our orders to come out of the kitchen.

When the meals came out of the kitchen they were less than stellar. First off, choices were minimal. There are 11 breakfast choices and 7 lunch choices. This includes two types of pancakes, one item that is basically a bowl of hash browns, and the regular-old, way-too-big, breakfast burrito that everyone in town makes. All of it is simply mediocre.

Snooze is trying to make a name for itself in the imbibing department. True, they have a breakfast wine list and this is very cool and unique. Also true that my bloody mary was pink for some reason. Too much hoarse-radish I suspect. It still tasted pretty decent though.

To top it all off, Snooze is expensive. We ended up spending $170 (tip not included) for the six of us, only half of us drinking alcohol. That’s nearly $30 a person! For brunch! Yikes!

Now for the good parts of Snooze. The saving grace on the menu is the chocolate & peanut butter pancakes with chocolate chips, and the pineapple upside down pancakes. Without these two items Snooze would be sound asleep. Snooze has an incredible location in the ballpark neighborhood and is the only brunch spot in the neighborhood that I know of. Snooze’s operating schedule is of benefit as well. Opening at 1:30 AM on Saturday and Sunday make it a prime location for an after-party gorge. The best thing Snooze has going for it though, is the atmosphere. The place is so hip it almost hurts. This is thanks to the incredible work by the people over at Xan. Kudos to Xan, you did a wonderful job. Despite the food menu being weak, the drink menu is superb and the pomegranate mimosas are utterly delish.

Hopefully Snooze can fine-tune itself. Its menu needs tweaking and the wait staff need no-doze but the outfit has a lot of potential. Don’t take my word for it, go eat there and tell them what you think.

Casa Bonita

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A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure/displeasure of eating at one of Denver’s – scratch that – the Nation’s landmark restaurants: Casa Bonita.

Casa Bonita opened in 1974. It is over 52,000 square feet with seating for 1,100 guests and took one year to build. Since the Casa Bonita in Tulsa closed in September of 2005 (which I’m incredibly disappointed in never having had the chance to visit), Denver’s Casa Bonita is now one of a kind – with the exception of the soon to be open Casa Viva and The Mayan (which was sued by Casa Bonita). Casa Bonita achieved national recognition recently with it’s appearance on South Park.

I think it’s easily described as the offspring of a broken down Disneyland, less than stellar Taco Bell, long airport security lines, the Las Vegas Strip, Chunky Cheese, and good liquid acid.

Nearly everyone who has lived in Denver, for any amount of time, is going to know what casa Bonita is. And most of those people are going to gag at the mere mention of it’s name. In fact, the reputation of the food at Casa Bonita is so poor it has been deemed “Casa Don’t-eat-a” by many Denverites. Casa Bonita is not for the week of heart or the week of stomach. It is just as plastic as Vegas (maybe more). And the food is some of the worst I’ve ever had. For reals.

The lines to get into the Casa can be horrendous. Go on a weeknight, less screaming children and little-to-no lines. If you decide to make a weekend night out of it you can expect lines up to an hour long to get in. And often a 30 minute line can form just to get the hell out of there. You’ve been warned. Trust me, this is one of the last places on earth you want to feel trapped.

After you have made your order and paid (you didn’t think they’re going let you see what’s on your plate before you paid did you), you are ushered to another cafeteria style line were you get a tray and wait until a young lady asks, “wachoo order?”. Soon your meal comes sliding out of a mysterious hole in the wall were it waits for you under the heating lamps. I love the fact that you never see where or by whom your food is made – it just appears through a hole!

Mystery Slot

I can only harsh on Casa Bonita for so long though. I personally, have spent many a childhood birthday at Casa Bonita. It will forever hold a nostalgic place in my heart, no matter how many times I end up puking in the fountain on the way out.

And so the fun begins. After getting your slop you’ll be lead to your seat. Everyone asks for a seat by the waterfall. Don’t. The smell of chlorine will get your stomach upset before you have a chance to drink your first coronaita. And they won’t seat you there anyway. One of the coolest things about Casa Bonita is all the cool rooms they can seat you in. There are gazebos, waterfall seating, mines, cave rooms, “open air” seating, and the governors mansion.

Miners Booths

This particular time we were seated in the magic room. This room had a cool chandelier and stage complete with red velvet curtain. There are magic shows every hour. The magician seemed like the saddest man on the planet but actually produced quite a few laughs.

Chandalier

In addition to magic shows, Casa Bonita has all kinds of other entertainment including pupppet shows, flame jugglers, a wishing well, a roaming mariachi band (which reportedly can’t play anything other than ‘happy birthday’), Black Barts cave, an arcade filled with 80’s video games and ski-ball, a souvenir store filled with absolute shit – and t-shirts, “authentic” Mexican dancers, a wishing well, piñatas for the kids, and all kinds of other stuff. Casa Bonita is great to go exploring in. Go thru a door your not supposed, search around, there is cool stuff to be found.

The Alley

The Puppet Show Is Closed

But by far the main attraction at Casa Bonita is the thirty-foot waterfall. Everyone seems to fall into the waterfall. If it’s not the regular divers doing flips, it’s Black Bart being shot by the sheriff and falling into the pool, or Chiquita the gorilla running around it escaping her captor and harassing the patrons. It’s the waterfall that makes Casa Bonita really unique. The diver’s at Casa Bonita even have there own blog featuring Chiquita.

Mariachi

Here are some Southpark screen caps and sounds.

Here are Casa Bonita My Space and Friendster accounts.

Go to Tiki Boyds and get a drink called the Casa Bonita. Refreshing!

Her reminiscing about Casa Bonita really hit home with me.

This dude made a video of his Casa Bonita experience.

Jeffery Sward has some great phtography of Casa Bonita.

The death metal band Carrion Crawler once did a short show on the Casa Bonita stage before getting kicked off.

Some more Casa Bonita photos can be found here.

This is a decent post about the Casa.

Casa Bonita at Night :: Denver

Please share you favorite / nostalgic / least favorite stories about the Casa. Or, just comment on how absolutly jealous you are of not being able to go here every weekend!

Pure

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I should start by pointing out that Rebbecca Ray was only 16 years old when she began writing Pure, and it shows. However, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Because the novel is about adolescence, Rebbecca Ray’s age while writing the novel keeps her closer to the subject matter. At the same time, her age often shows in her unpolished writing via some shallow characterization and a very poor ending. Pure is an admirable first effort for such a young writer and a decent cotton candy read but it is by no means a fantastic or important novel. I may have found this book more interesting than most due having enjoyed other, better novels with similar themes involving female adolescence.

Our unnamed narrator is a 14-year-old girl who is struggling desperately to find her place. She’s struggling to feel anything at all, really. The story begins with what appears to be a relatively normal British kid with problems the typical problems of peer acceptance, minor family problems, and just wanting to grow up. As the story moves forward we find that our main characters life is more complicated and not nearly as normal as we first expected. The narrators emotional ambiguity and sad apathy seem tip prove the helplessness of adolescence. The uncertainty of how to judge what is happening to her seems to the most poignant and truthful theme in the novel and that also of our teenage years that provide so many new experiences. As thing in her life become more complicated, problems with her parents escalate. When her overbearing father and ineffectual mother fall further apart, their 14-year-old daughter begins dating a man over twice her age. She allows, then craves abusive relationships and before long her feelings of self-loathing become self-destructive: hurt becomes love, repulsion becomes sexy, and pain is part of fitting in.

This novel harbors very little joy and it’s not sensational or sentimental. But being along similar veins of Perks Of Being A Wall Flower and Kids, this book is interesting in that it is both fascinating and upsetting to look at how growing up has changed for the modern child. You wince for the girl in this book, but you also relate; remembering what it was like, having been in that cool basement, on that lumpy couch, wondering if they actually like you back or are just fumbling toward an incomprehensible and obscure maturity too.

White Noise

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Back in highschool, me and my friend Les would often stand in the hallway near our lockers during passing period and stare out the door. We wouldn’t talk to each other. We were too busy listening and didn’t want to interrupt what we were hearing: the sound of 400 students gossiping, spilling books, taunting, laughing, slamming lockers, eating snacks, chasing each other, smacking gum, copying homework, making out, tearing pages out of notebooks, etc. When we didn’t focus on one sound at a time but the on whole sound: a low penetrating, ominous, rumble would emerge. It was a hum you would hear only if you knew it was there. Soon, we noticed this could be done almost anywhere. It fascinated us, how this sound seemed to stand on its own, beyond the individuals creating it. Les was the only one I had ever told about my listening to this sound. I think because I thought he would be one of the few I knew who could appreciate it. To this day I could walk up behind Les and hum, and he’d know exactly what I was referring to: white noise.

As a close friend of pop culture, it’s very surprising that I thought Don DeLillo’s White Noise was, in a word, boring. At least mostly boring. The novel held some appealing wit. The scene with like the “Most Photographed Barn In America”, the near plane crash, and some of Jack Gladney’s conversations with his family I found really amusing in DeLillo’s dark and dry way. And though at times the novel produced a disturbed chuckle from me, I wouldn’t say that it was hilarious or even funny, really. In fact much of the time it was annoying and tedious. Yes, this novel was clever, but despite having many facets, it was not fascinating.

It’s true that the meat of DeLillo’s White Noise is held in its observations, not in its plot. But the story held almost no plot. The main character in White Noise tells us that all plots move deathward. Is it a valid reason for Delillo not to include a plot in this novel? I don’t think so.

It could very well be that I have become so accustomed to the torrent of information, often useless, swirling around me that I don’t think that the racket that it creates is worthy of a novel itself. Let alone bothering to read that novel. White Noise seems to be just more white noise. It’s not lost on me that may be exactly what DeLillo had intended.

I did enjoy the cultural themes presented in the novel. DeLillo reveals to us how we as participants in American culture are often more interested in the copy than in the original. We as a culture reject the real event in favor of the simulation. Representation supersedes experience. I also enjoyed the idea that death seems to be the only concept that can equal our society’s white noise in sheer force. And despite popular culture using glitz, packaging, and showiness in an attempt to hide death beneath the surface, death is in the end, inevitable. Despite what DeLillo is trying to portray, I don’t think death has disappeared from american culture, my death clock is testimony to that. Maybe I’m missing something. On the other hand, maybe I get it.

Is Don DeLillo’s novel White Noise high-end art? Maybe. Enjoyable? Maybe not.
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My Life Without Me

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Last night I watched My Life Without Me (trailer can be found here). What a tear-jerker that was. I was a sniffling mess for a while there. I can’t remember who recommend this movie to me, but they said my Big List reminded them of it. Anyway, thanks whoeveryouare, it was really enjoyable. I thought it was a great movie, if not a bit depressing and a little manipulative, it really moved me. There are plenty of bad reviews out there for this movie, this isn’t one of them. I thought Sarah Polley did an incredible job. The stylization was just up my alley and the soundtrack was great to boot. The selfishness of the main character was lost on me till I started reading some negative views.

I also really enjoyed it because it correlated with the book I’m reading right now: White Noise by Don DeLillo. Both stories (the movie and the book) deal with the ever looming spectre of death, specifically terminal illness. They both deal with how we act when our time on earth becomes specifically finite. Neither of the characters (in both the movie and the book) choose to tell their spouses or their children. Is that OK to do? Are we obliged to tell our loved ones if we are going to die in two months? Are we saving them any suffering if we don’t? In addition, both main characters deal with issues of infidelity which draws even more parallels between the two stories. Anyway, I totally recommend the movie (as long as you don’t mind a good cry) and I’ll let you know about the book when I finish it.

True Stories

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I’ve basically been snowed in the for the last few evenings. We only got like three or four inches worth over the last couple of days, not enough to actually snow anyone in, but it was enough to keep me from wanting to go out. I spent some of my recent indoors time staying late at working and doing some design stuff.

The night before I watched a really cool flick called True Stories. First off this movie was starred in and directed by David Byrne. And being a huge fan of both his music and his artwork may have effected my opinion of this movie, but I thought it was great. It was “A film about a bunch of people in Virgil Texas” who are observing the states sesquicentennial: the 150th anniversary and “a celebration of special-ness”. David Byrne did a wonderful job with his perfect alliteration, straight face, and odd-ball comments – “This car is not a rental. It’s privately owned”. Yet, he still makes his unabashed annotations on mass-consumerism, fashion, architecture, corporate America, and marriage without being satirical (for the most part) without being pretentious. The quirky characters were incredibly entertaining. Make no doubt, this movie is a musical, with some of the songs written specifically for the film. My favorite was “Dream Operator” sung during the fashion show. Anyway, great flick, go rent it.

Running With Scissors

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Augusten Burrough’s first memoir, Running With Scissors is a paradox. The novel is filled to the brim with the awfulness and horrors of modern life. Pedophilia, excessive drug use, child abuse, rape, animal cruelty, exploitation, abandonment, sexual deviancy, coprophilia, mental illness, and manipulation all have their place in this novel. But somehow, despite all of this dreadfulness and misery, Augusten’s story is heart wrenchingly hilarious. The entire novel is filled with hope and laughs. Any sort of pity for Augustus is always followed by at least a chuckle. And despite all of the abuse, very little of it is done with intentional cruelty. At no time is this book ever boring, it’s simply (or not so simply) intelligently crafted entertainment. But then again, I’m a rubber-necker at train wrecks.

After his insane mom and deadbeat, alcoholic father get divorced, Augusten is sent to live with his mother’s psychiatrist, Dr. Finch. Living at the Finch’s dilapidated home are a host of Dr. Finch’s patients, children, and “wives”, all providing Augusten with varying degrees of hopefulness and despair. By the end of the novel Burroughs discovers that during adolescence, without an adult around to tell you what not to do, freedom is just like being trapped.

Basically, Burroughs has created a wonderfully entertaining novel. I’d recommend this to everyone but my Grandma. Now, if you’ll excuse I’m gonna go perform some bible dips.
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The Bone Palace Ballet

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I was introduced to Charles Bukowski’s writing when I was a sophomore in college. Some hippie from Humbolt County came up to visit a roommate and told me to read him. I’m glad I listened. He is now one of my favorite authors. I fell in love with him almost immediately. That semester my drink, when we went out, was half-and-half whiskey and waters. I found myself going to the bar more, and paying attention to the people who were there. I saw the romance in dark, dingy, rent-by-the-week hotels. I fully realized the allure of the racetrack. I stayed away from the fighting though – I saw no cause to injure myself. I remember I saw a signed copy of his book in the library and schemed out a plan to sneak it past the alarms. However, shortly after I finished the plan and recruited the necessary accomplices, the library flooded and I graduated shortly after that. I still wonder if that book is there.

I’ve read all of his novels but Post Office. This is because I want something to hold onto. Something to read on my death bed. I’ve also read most of his short stories. Over the last few years, I’ve been in the slow process of reading his poems. I keep a book of them in the shitter with me and whenever I have to go bust out a few, I open the current book of poems and bust a few of those out too. A while back I just finished The Bone Palace Ballet, a collection of mostly newer poems that were put together posthumously. It was pretty good. Great shitter reading material. And you know what? I think Bukowski would take that as one of his best compliments.

Charles Bukowski having a nice read on the shitter

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I got an email from a reader offering to send me one of the books on my list. Since I hadn’t read it, I accepted and sent her my home address. A few days later it arrived with a note: “Hi! I hope you enjoy this more than I did. If, not don’t give up on Hemingway, ‘The Sun Also Rises’ was a really great book. Happy reading. Connie.”

Well, Connie, I haven’t given up. A Farewell To Arms was by no means a terrible novel. Nor was it an incredible novel. Mostly, it was just good. I haven’t quite figured out what all the fuss about Hemingway(‘s writing) is. It’s good. It’s got style. It’s poignant yet unemotional. It’s no frills and thus it seems his works may work best under the surface. It is said that Hemingway has done more to change the English-language novel than any other twentieth-century writer. I can vouch for or against that statement, I can only say I enjoy his style. Equally, I enjoyed the novel but it’s not worth all the commotion. I likely will not read it again.

A Farewell To Arms is simply a story of love during war-time (ignoring most of the political complexities, thank god). An overdone idea, but one that is fairly fresh to me, so that aspect didn’t wear on me.

After having read the last word of this novel I thought to myself, “That was just a sad story. A sad and crude story.” And it was. It was unrefined and raw and that’s the way I liked it. However, this sparseness led to little character development. And for much of the story I thought of the two main characters, Henry and Catherine, as shallow and somewhat infantile. Their relationship seemed so lovey-dovey as to be artificial. It seemed phony. But after a while, I realized their love was actually thin only to begin with. He was war-torn and she was damaged. However, the war brought on a healthy co-dependency, between the two. They ended up genuinely needing each other and their conversations became endearing and earnest. And by the end of the novel I was proven wrong.

Thanks Connie.
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Native Son

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It has been said that Richard Wright’s writing is like a sledgehammer. If Native Son is a fair representation of the rest of his work, then I’d have to agree. It’s precise, simple, and sends a clear message that is solid, heavy, and hits hard, all with a lack of sentimentality. This is not only true of Richard Wright’s style but of his message. Granted his theory is a little abstract, but his general conception of the truth behind urban American class, race, and social relations is grounded in clear logic – white American society has responsibility for the oppression, racism, and segregation towards blacks, and if nothing is done about it, violent outrage is a definitive result. A result that has proven itself among exceedingly subjugated people the world throughout. It took Wright 391 pages to literally spell it out, but ultimately the story of Bigger Thomas is a story of oppression. The story and nearly all its main characters are aggressive, brutal and destructive each in their own way. The biblical quote at the beginning of Native Son, “Even today is my complaint rebellious, My stroke is heavier than my groaning.” from the book of Job, set the tone for the violence contained there in.

The plot involves itself with the actions of Bigger Thomas. Bigger is a young black man raised and living in Chicago’s black belt during the 1930’s. Bigger lives a life that is weighed down by poverty, racism, and fear. Bigger is a product of the injustices of society. After accepting a job as a driver for an affluent white family, Bigger finds himself in a situation where he feels no other choice but to murder the daughter of his employer. Bigger digs himself larger and larger holes by producing a falsely signed ransom note, and accusing the victims boyfriend, killing his girlfriend so she won’t rat him out (a scene that literally made my stomach drop). Bigger eventually gets found out, captured, brought to jail, and put on trial. Max, a leader in the communist party (and it is not surprising that Max is one of the only characters with any racial clarity considering Richard Wright was an active communist himself), acts as Bigger’s lawyer. It is only after trying to explain his feeling to Max that bigger realizes that his crimes are the only thing that have given meaning and energy to his previously aimless life, and he thus he goes to his trial unrepentant. Bigger believes that if a man were reduced to such a level that his only choice was to kill another, the taking of the life must have been for a valid reason, even if that reason isn’t well understood. Thus he deals with his fate stoically. While Bigger is on trial Max explains to the courtroom that Bigger’s actions were a byproduct of his oppression and ultimate fear. It is understood that despite the horrible oppression that consumed Bigger’s life, we know that he was ultimately the one responsible for his choices. As a result the reader feels little pity for Bigger. Wright’s genius was that, in preventing us from feeling pity for Bigger, he forced us to confront the hopelessness and misery of the society that gave birth to him. It is this part of the book that gets a little caught up with rhetoric. Somewhat like the “radio speech” in Ayn Rand’s “Atlas Shrugged”, Richard Wright felt the need to pound the podium in order to drive home his point. Despite having slowed the pace of the novel a bit, it was entirely bearable (unlike Atlas Shrugged) and an important part in the understanding of Wright’s ideas.

An important book and an enjoyable read.

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