So, Marquis de Sade Liked Spicy Foods?

Among my most foolish moments involving spicy foods: biting into a raw jalapeno pepper after the first few bits I'd diced didn't seem spicy, which required two yogurts and a lot of pacing to control; neglecting to ask the kitchen at Zoe's to temper the spiciness of their beef-with-chilis dish, which required about three quickly downed bottles of beer and a lot of pacing to control. My body was so contorted after that dinner I had to skip the Wrens concert I was planning to see later that night.

Thankfully, the Times came to the rescue last week, with a story explaining my lust for spicy foods. A psychologist at the University of Pennsylvania theorizes that the medical benefits of eating chili peppers -- lower blood pressure, better salivation -- are too small to explain their appeal. Instead, the attraction is a "benign masochism," in which we take pleasure from testing our taste buds' tolerance for pain. Another psychologist, from Yale, told the Times, "Philosophers have often looked defining features of humans -- language, rationality, culture and so on. I'd stick with this: Man is the only animal that likes Tabasco sauce."

Though the researchers acknowledge they don't have enough scientific evidence to back this up, add me to the database of anecdotal proof. There's something fun about the challenge of tolerating spicy food. While no daredevil, I like the extra level of flavor and sense of adventure it adds. Perhaps it adds a little sense of danger to the day. (Though a friend recently checked in with an e-mail to say he's now rock climbing, skydiving and hoping to travel to Pakistan this school year as part of his work at graduate school. He trumps me in the danger category.) I no longer have to be embarrassed by my ill-advised requests for spicy food. It's a sign of my evolution!

Update: In the more awesome category of my adventures in spicy foods, I pickled a hot pepper last week. I think I should've let it sit for longer, but it still tasted very good.

It Happened

At the end of Pavement's rendition of "Unfair" during its show Saturday at Agganis Arena -- as the band's wild card, Bob Nastanovich, lunged at the crowd shouting, "I'm your neighbor / And I need favors," the rest of the band ripped through their parts, and the surprisingly professional light show flashed -- I thought for the first time about Pavement, They sound like a really big, professional, muscular rock band that could've been huge.

Pavement's publicity has rocketed the past week. Not coincidentally, after six months of shows across the globe, their reunion tour reached the East Coast. They've played on "The Colbert Report" and Fallon's show, been teased on the Times' front page, and are in the midst of five consecutive sold-out shows in Central Park and Williamsburg, which have been gigantic and lovingly reviewed exclamation points. Most of the comments note how loose and happy the band seems, which apparently couldn't have been said for their previous tours (I don't know; I was too young when they broke up in 1999), and that these shows feel like a long victory lap.

Maybe Pavement's victory is convincing everyone that they could've been huge if they wanted ... but they never wanted to take that route. If they first emerged in present-day, they likely would be huge, even over their objections, because the music industry has changed so profoundly that great Internet buzz quickly builds a national fan base and sends groups skyward. For example, see the present positions of the National, Sufjan Stevens, Vampire Weekend, et al, though admittedly they will always be much more palatable than Pavement, and then compare them to those of Yo La Tengo, Guided By Voices, Sunny Day Real Estate, et al in the 1990s.

Then again, Pavement's sound and culture never would've flowered in the 21st century. When Stephen Malkmus told Stephen Colbert that his musical inspiration was Ronald Reagan, I don't think he was joking. Pavement sprouts directly from -- and in opposition to -- the monoculture of suburban California where he and guitarist Scott Kannberg were raised and was nurtured by the Clinton era's slacking full employment.

Maybe my final word should be, Who cares? Saturday's show was the best I've ever seen. The songs were great, the band was proficient and funny, the crowd was excited, and seeing them fulfilled every expectation and my 10-year-long yearning to see them. This blog is now more complete. Here's their performance there of "Cut Your Hair":

Even Though His License Plate Is "Ec 10," I Like His Textbook

In my microeconomics textbook, the author, N. Gregory Mankiw, a Harvard economist, former chairman of Bush 43's Council of Economic Advisers and pal of Mitt Romney, opens a chapter on taxation with a quote from former Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.: "Taxes are what we pay for civilized society." Holmes' comment is, not surprisingly, quite eloquent, and Mankiw uses it to demonstrate "that some level of taxes are necessary."

That Mankiw, given his conservative credentials, acknowledges the importance of taxes is noteworthy, even if his acceptable level of them is likely lower that that of many others. However, in the context of Republican candidates for major offices this fall, his admission that taxes are necessary and purposeful pushes him further to the party's center than he probably ever expected. Among Sharron Angle, Rand Paul, Carl Paladino and Christina O'Donnell (who are only a small handful of candidates, by the way, but plenty representative), we could probably eliminate three-quarters of the federal government and New York state government in one swoop, based on their collective desires. I doubt Mankiw thinks the same.

Holmes' insight could be plotted on a curve like the supply and demand ones I've been studying in these early weeks of the semester. If taxes are what we pay for a civilized society, the fewer taxes someone wants to pay, the less civilized he is and the less he cares about civilized society. No wonder we have these strange, Know Nothing political protests and rants nationwide, where everyone shouts for no taxes, no government, no experience and occasionally, no one but white people. (What other subtext can "Take Back Our Country" have?)

Sure, this Holmes curve resembles Laffer's -- there's a point where it reaches diminishing returns, and the more taxes someone wants, the more he too departs from civilization. It's called communism. But these days, large chunks of the country seems stuck in the curve's lower-left corner -- the no-taxes-no-civilization part -- and the Republican Party seems quite happy to have that be its official position. I don't understand why.

Thank You, Kevin Durant

Kevin Durant, the Oklahoma City Thunder's star forward, is quickly ascending the ranks of unbelievably cool athletes. He finished his summer by leading the U.S. basketball team to the gold medal of the World Championships, which, while a less significant tournament, proves he can take charge of a team and perform superbly in crucial games. After he hit one crucial shot, the Times reports, he popped the "USA" logo on the jersey's front and gave a salute to the camera -- his tribute to Sept. 11, which, considering the context, is as simple but charged as can be. (The game was played Saturday and he also wrote "9-11-01" on his shoes.)

His game is casually brilliant. He hits jump shots easily; he works in the post; he plays defense; he scores his points through the game's natural flow, without hogging the ball and spotlight. He spent the previous five summers dutifully playing on the U.S. national team and deferring to other stars before reaching this year's peak. His teammates uniformly like him. He rides the University of Texas' public buses, even when he returns to campus a multimillionaire with his pro teammates because he wants them to experience the school as he did -- and declines when a university official offers him a ride. What urban planning student doesn't swoon over that?

Equally important, Durant, with little fanfare, signed a long-term extension with the Thunder this summer. Not only was this a refreshing contrast to LeBron James' egofest, but it helps solidify the Thunder's young, exciting lineup and proves Durant is a humble man who cares about loyalty, hard work and the importance of secondary cities. He could've easily jumped to New York or another megalopolis, but, to refer to an earlier summer post of mine, opted for accomplishing important things in an out-of-the-way place. Durant realizes you don't have to leave your roots to blossom into something wonderful.

With Steve Nash's career nearing its end, there will be a need for a considerate, entertaining player to take his place. It sure seems as though Durant is the one who will do it. And, oh yeah, in 10 or 12 years, it's quite likely we'll discuss whether he's superior to James and Kobe Bryant and the best player of this generation.

Update: Yes, Bill Simmons yesterday published a column about Durant's performance Sunday and his accompanying ascension. I promise I had no idea about it until after I started writing this, though Simmons has loved Durant for longer than I.

When Did New York Become The Planning Capital Of The U.S.?

As New York's civic and business leaders tried to ensure the city didn't slip as the global financial capital -- though, obviously, that's not a title of distinction these days -- it successfully became the U.S. planning capital. Typically, such a feat doesn't receive much attention, but the Times has recently hopped on the urban planning beat with an appreciated, relative vengeance.

Not only is Times Square only open to pedestrians and mildly tacky furniture now, as shown in the above photo, but Broadway, one of Manhattan's and by extension, the country's, most renowned streets, is losing travel lanes as people overtake cars on the totem pole. As Michael Grynbaum reports, in the past two years three-and-a-half miles of travel lanes have been eliminated, as have many parking spaces, replaced by bicycle lanes and picnic tables. At the same time, the city is creating two "aging-improvement" districts in East Harlem and the Upper West Side, which means more benches, better lighting and better drainage, among other simple but important things that makes seniors' mobility easier. The city has also closed long stretches of streets on weekends for recreation and devoted lanes to buses, so they travel faster.

These are not simple things to accomplish. The first time the Bloomberg administration tried to demote the car, with congestion pricing, it stalled spectacularly in the New York Legislature. Saying no to cars, when everyone seems to ride in them, even if they do so much less in Manhattan than in the rest of the country, is bold. Emphasizing walkers, bicyclists and quality streetscapes is difficult to accomplish because they can be expensive endeavors that don't create the kinds of benefits the immediate-to-react demand, i.e. jobs. Jobs matter, of course, but so does a place's desirability and safety. The aging districts might actually be more important because with them, the Bloomberg administration realizes that U.S. cities haven't been well designed or governed for anyone but the postgraduate, approximately ages 22 to 35, for at least the previous 30 years. The districts openly acknowledge that cities only function at their peak when people of all ages and backgrounds can live there comfortably.

Mayor Bloomberg sure deserves credit for having the vision to implement this, as he does for many other things (which I've written often about), but so does the city's transportation commissioner, Janette Sadik-Kahn, and the countless number of planners on her staff who come up with these don't stand behind the microphone at press conferences.

This Time Around, Part II

The tuition for Dean Wareham's son must be coming due soon because Wareham's two most recent projects are racked with the sort of nostalgia that pays the bills. The first, a collection of songs for Warhol's series of "Screen Tests" films, isn't objectionable. Wareham and his wife, Britta Phillips, who was Luna's bassist during the second half of the band's life, have been performing live accompaniments to Warhol's movies for several years now, and ever since Wareham moved to New York to start Luna around 1992, he and the band were viewed as the stylistic descendants of the Velvet Underground -- cool, pulsing, New York.

But for the second, Wareham has decided to head on tour playing songs from Galaxie 500, his beloved first band. This seems to make sense, considering the band's oevure was recently reissued .... on the label owned by Wareham's two former bandmates, who only speak to him out of professional need and haven't seem in his years because Galaxie 500's breakup was so bitter. Rather than allow for a proper reunion, which the band has long said won't happen, Wareham now just seems to be cashing in. They're great songs, but not only his and not the same when played by only him and a backing band.

Also worth noting is the tour schedule: While New York, Philly, Chicago, L.A., San Francisco, San Diego and Atlanta get the requisite stops, Boston, Galaxie 500's hometown, is noticeably absent. Perhaps Wareham's heart would've ached too strongly if he returned to his post-collegiate home to play the triumphant songs of his 20s without his bandmates behind him. Perhaps those bandmates, Damon and Naomi, who still live in town, would've shown up in the crowd just to spite him, glare at him, or egg the crowd into chants of a reunion only to walk out the back door. Perhaps they actually would've played the encore together.

You can go searching for past glories, but fully confronting the past is tough.

Anyway, to the good times, above is Galaxie 500 playing "Tugboat," their great single, in April 1989 at a school in Boston. Thank you, YouTube.

We've Got Eyes On The Back Of Our Heads

New York and tennis don't quite mix, which is what makes the U.S. Open, that sticky punctuation mark at summer's end, the year's best tournament. The courts are hard, the crowds are demanding and sometimes uncouth (in fact, earlier this week there was a fight in Arthur Ashe Stadium), the weather can be unbearably hot, the moods swing and even the outfits players wear are brash and unkempt.

As cultured a city as New York is, it's not a genteel one, forcing tennis to adapt after two highly proper Grand Slam tournaments earlier in the summer -- the French Open and Wimbledon. It produces wonderful, gutsy tennis straight from Queens, an inherently tacky and mixed-up place. My favorite victory of Pete Sampras' came at the U.S. Open in 1996: He puked in the back of the court during a fifth-set tiebreaker in a quarterfinal match against Alex Corretja. Sampras wiped his mouth and then won the match. That about summarizes the U.S. Open.

This year, for the second consecutive Open, Roger Federer pulled off a behind-the-back, between-the-legs winner! See the above video for the sheer brilliance. New York inspires the inspirational and produces compelling play. Those who don't wilt amid the noise, smell, heat and general chaos of the city play strongly and excitingly, which is always fun to watch. The worst part about starting school in August's last week is how hard it is to find time to follow along.

Thanks to Wild Nothing, who've released the debut record of the year, for the post's title. It's a lyric from the first song, which refers here to those trick shots of Federer's. How else could he pull them off?