ix. (or, bread)

mother jones has the best bread recipe.

Tags: chef

viii. (or, revolution)

 

 

recorded outside on the back porch. hence the helicopter, and the dog, and the cow. but that’s okay.

Tags: musician

vii. (paris; it will cost you)

“living in paris is priceless, but it will cost you.”

i’ve been thinking about this quote, mainly because intuitively, in my gut, i know it to be true, but i’m having a hard time understanding why, and also wondering if it holds for everyone who comes to paris, looking for something.

because living paris was invaluable (i’m not sure i will ever understand how much, or in exactly what ways), but definitely not without its costs (exacted as penance?).

writing that, i realize that there is a very literal way to take that quote. that had passed me by almost entirely, but in fact might be exactly how the author meant it, and probably how everybody else will read it. i.e.: paris is a magnificent and historical cultural palace, but it will burn a hole so deep in your pocket as to make you reconsider doing anything monetarily significant again for a good long while.

and that literal interpretation of the phrase is undeniably true.

but it’s the second, metaphorical, interpretation of the phrase that holds the most weight with me, and i’m still working out why.

maybe the cost, both literal and figurative, arises from the same place. maybe because it is so mythical, and it is so beautiful, and you can’t throw a stone without hitting some remembrance of a person who was changed, and came alive, and did great things in paris, well maybe the weight of all this beauty bears down on you (if life isn’t beautiful here, then where?), and maybe this is a priceless gift because it hones you into a changed version of yourself, but not without running you through the mill to get you there.

and maybe, to rely on another quote that’s been rattling around in my head: “who can say if i’ve been changed for the better, but because [of] you, i’ve been changed for good.”

Tags: writer

vi. (guelph)

guelph is a magical place, full of wonderful people.
or perhaps just a regular place, full of magical and wonderful people.

things that happened while in guelph:

i. i went to a poetry slam, got carried away in the words and the wit and the turns of phrase that made my skin tingle.
i didn’t get a video of the wonderful poets there, but here’s a video of one of my favourite spoken word artists, mayda del valle, working her magic at the white house.

 

ii. went to an early morning yoga class in the park, stretched on blankets, meditated with the wind blowing over me, and a djembe in the distance, poetry in my ears.

iii. ate so much food grown from the earth so close to where i was staying, saw the faces of the people who grew it at the market. strawberries, strawberries, strawberries. BASIL. we made chili, we made strawberrybasilapplecidervinegar salad, and it was a-MAY-zing.

iv. read this book under a cherry tree, and in the cafeteria (which had some pretty wicked lights). such good writing.

v. drank mint tea, and watched this movie.

guelph, yes please.

v. (or, ’tis the season)

in france, they have this thing called new beaujolais day, or i suppose le jour du beaujolais nouveau, which is the day (the third thursday in november) on which this particular wine, beaujolais nouveau, is sold.

and it can’t be sold before that day, and while it can be sold after, it’s best closest to the day. the wine, according to french wikipedia rarely keeps beyond  six months.

and lest you think this is a day to rope in gullible tourists with the food culture of france … well, i suppose it is partly that, and also partly a very very good business ploy on the part of the makers of this wine … but geez lou-ise is the thing ever celebrated. it’s a big deal.

and i’d argue that it’s special because it only comes once a year, and because one drinks it when it is at its best.

which is something it’s easy to lose touch with in a supermarket culture where everything is at our fingertips, whenever we’d like.
but the thing is, although we can get strawberries in december, and oranges in our frigid climate, i don’t think you’d ever argue that these manifestations of the things are the best versions of them out there.

ever picked a strawberry off the plant in july? sure it’s tiny, and maybe you had to fend off weeds and bugs and apply immeasurable amounts of tender love and care just to get the darn thing to grow, but damn is it ever sweet, and man is it miles away from the hopped up water-logged versions you get in the grocery store in december.

this month, june, is asparagus month where i live. and i can’t get enough of the stuff.

it’s the simplest. just cook it in a pan in some oil, or butter, add a bit of salt, a little pepper, some lemon juice if you like, and it is wondrous.

and next month, it’ll be strawberries.

Tags: chef

iv. (success!)

ricotta goodness.

Tags: chef

iii. (dance, dance, dance till you’re dead)

“The desires of the heart are as crooked as corkscrews,
Not to be born is the best for man;
The second-best is a formal order,
The dance’s pattern; dance while you can.

Dance, dance for the figure is easy,
The tune is catching and will not stop;
Dance till the stars come down from the rafters;
Dance, dance, dance till you drop.”