I’m not particularly interested in having sex with a robot, but the money is good, and I’ve never been to Las Vegas. Also a roll in the synthetic hay is not the actual assignment. I’ve come to the Erotic Heritage Museum to attend a talk on sex, love, and technology. Still, a part of me wonders if I can capture the whole story without boinking Emma, the museum’s resident sexbot. The possibility of such a tryst has been the subject of some discussion among those involved with my trip, including my editor and the museum director, which has left me a little squeamish, not to mention embarrassed. But I remind myself that shame has no place in the brave new world of “digisexuality.”
It was a December afternoon, and across the small table sat the Diallo brothers, Rahim and Mohammed, their own excitement tempered with apprehension. The Diallos, who emigrated from Guinea to the U.S. as teenagers and put themselves through college while working in restaurants and driving cabs, are the owners of the Ginjan Café, a cozy spot across from the 125th Street Metro-North station that has struggled since the commuter hordes began mostly staying home. Stanton is the creator of Humans of New York, the popular publication that has given him more wealth, freedom, and influence than he, a man whose dreams have always been outsize, ever imagined. What started in 2010 as a quirky street-photography project has morphed into an uplifting social-media empire with nearly 30 million followers on Facebook and Instagram combined who visit to affirm, relate to, and weep for the ordinary people on display. Now Stanton was planning to feature the Diallos on his blog, and all three men were hoping that the publication would result in a bonanza of sales of the Diallos’ specialty ginger juice, Ginjan.
“Authenticity” is a loaded word that many chefs like Tong stay away from, because the very concept discriminates against food that has evolved over years and generations. It implies that food needs to conform to a set of standard dishes and flavors determined at an arbitrary time and place, even as new ingredients are introduced and as communities migrate. There is an expectation that a dish should look and taste a specific way in order to be valid, and the onus often falls on the chef—not the critic—to be perfect ambassadors of their culture’s cuisine. It’s an unrealistic standard that’s destined to fail, because what is authentic to one person might be completely unfamiliar to another.
In the realm of Chinese cuisine, this type of gatekeeping has left many Chinese chefs and food writers bewildered and second-guessing the food that they grew up eating.
Sea of Tranquility is a profound meditation on what it means to live through a disaster, itself a reminder of the random events that shape our lives and how, through our choices, we imbue them with meaning.
St. James’ creation of a modern haunted house story works well as the author also focuses on family bonds and destructive gossip. St. James excels at delving into the psyche of her characters.
The past moves me
from closed closets
to sealed envelopes.