-JRR TolkienWell... the carcass has been cleaned and there are the frenzied shopping daze to look forward to ahead with crowds of mindless fiends grabbing for everything in sight.
I still find it amazing, seeing how we're supposedly in an economic crisis, that the ambivalence and deep-set denial just phases no one- $$-away! Then there are those who are really bunking-down and sacrificing themselves for their deprived children as the NYtimes wastes commentary on-- what's a woman to do if she can't buy those designer jeans-- oh, I'm going to cry!
Meanwhile Mumbai has it's own beast running amok and I had to stop a moment and take a double take of the New Agey Deepak Chopra suddenly sounding like a connected and interested SA native speaking from a level of genuine concern. Of course he's broadcasting from the comforts of Cali, (and I think I almost was hearing some of the dripping hooey trying to seep out with the "inflammation creates more inflammation" prognosis) as most of us can just meekly observe, shudder and keep our thoughts with those caught up in within this unfolding tragedy.
Think it's time to stop "wishing" things will get better and start engaging in much more profound and meaningful ways that can bridge dialogue and further understanding of just what is at stake here, how our politics and policies and $$ affect all of us in means we just don't want to contemplate fully... especially when our stomachs remain full- satiety can dull one to complete complacency.
-t
Barack to Reality: Obama's victory didn't magically eliminate America's problems and enemies
Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, canceled, made nothing? If not, you will never really change.
-D.H. Lawrence
-Percy Bysshe Shelley
Ahh... the past couple of weeks watching both the DNC & RNC have jolted me to such inspirational highs, and this week, to such demoralizing lows- bleh!
Truly this has been the biggest comedic performance (ultimately damaging and tragic if to come to pass by mindless voter-monkeys!) I have seen drawn out to such oafish lengths, then blasted upon every media outlet for "analysis" and discussion that bears a resemblance of a dog chasing its tail. Nothing but the Charlie Brown voices in the background I hear rambling idiotic God-fearing invocations from relatively dare I say, young individuals. What gives with all of this rubbish? Where we're heading I fear more.
Suddenly I'm reminiscing my teenage angst-ModPunk-imbued days, guess we're all regressing a little these days.
'That's Entertainment'! La-la-Laaaa...
Eggplant subji and some beautiful bruschetta-- that'll do it!
I'll admit I haven't relived the good 'ol A&W days in awhile, but the pairing of a quality root beer (sorry A&W you get the slip here) with some decadent custard and a bit of vodka and Galliano got me inspired enough to test but not drive. Delicieux!
For the kiddies just minus the spirits and they will be quite jubilant as well and glad you remembered this classic rendezvous. Though I do dream a bit of the drive-thru days with rubberized-hooked trays brought to the car (how awfully American is that?!) And the lama that was fenced off in the play area adjacent to the A&W stand who would spit on those who were less worthy.... oy vey!
Gather these and please:
*2 oz Galliano
1 oz Vodka
Root Beer
1 oz Heavy Cream
Combine Galliano, vodka and heavy cream in a tall glass filled with ice. Fill with Root Beer – we prefer Sprecher, but for a Chicago taste, try Goose Island (Ed. Note: Berghoff can work, as well. All three of these are free of high fructose corn syrup). Stir to combine. Top with a dollop of whipped cream, preferably homemade, and a root beer barrel.
For a cute dessert, serve this cocktail alongside a miniature old-fashioned root beer float. Fill a shot glass with small scoops of ice cream and another with root beer – serve them together and let your guests pour the float*
... and the myth, magic and language were all pleasurably retained.
Instead of becoming cultural wallpaper, William Brown tweaked A Midsummer Night's Dream in just the right places while leaving intact Shakespeare's words, which I just want to revel in as long as possible. Like old sages and bards whose wise, snippy wisdom has faded into dust, your ear senses something intuitively divine and enchanting-- it's timeless and invigorating.
There was a time when words carried much more strength and power, and still made sense-- even the proclaimed difficulty in Shakespeare's texts continues to transcend.
Puck-Robin Goodfellow is punked-out, Lysander's horrendous perm and retro 60's attire suit his charming ways; Demetrius is an ultimate uber-nerd chasing love while Bottom's hammish self is transformed into an ass.
Brown took some chances, and I'll let others grumble their complaints, but much to his credit they were timely for a modern audience and nearly everyone was out of their seats at the end when Athens comes strong at the end with a celebratory traditional Greek dance.
An amazing evening performance in such a great setting.
" I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine."
Act ii. Scene. 1
True, the fact that you can find a bombardment of books, clubs, etc. does highlight something positive about a possible increased readership and interest in actual reading, and maybe even more hopeful, a true engagement with the author's work-- but I'm still skeptical. Even I find myself at times drawn to some of the more banal, cliched tripe that is more like fast-food drive-thru gut/mind rot and literally everywhere vs the "source of wisdom and delight" that in the past seemed more the norm, or at least what a writer was striving for, even when dealing with topics/characters of grave intensity and depth.
I feel there is a need for a more penetrating exploration of the written word. A slowing down to actually take in and digest what the writer has skillfully crafted and prepared for the offering. Do you sit graciously at the table and use napkin, fork, spoon and knife? Or do you just devour without a breath in between, a utilitarian taste with no sense of texture, scrambling to just inhale without any discrimination or even some bit of critique and complementary discussion?
Northrop Frye's Anatomy of Criticism is a good reference and counterbalance to read and read again I find, even now. Harold Bloom's foreworded thoughts end quite poignantly:
"If I live long enough, I fully expect individual computers themselves to declare their possession of personality and genius, and to bombard me with the epics and romances of artificial intelligence. In all this proliferation, I hardly will to Frye for comfort and assistance. But, where shall I turn? ... Frye's criticism will survive because it is serious, spiritual, and comprehensive, but not because it is systematic or a manifestation of genius. If Anatomy of Criticism begins to seem a period piece, so does The Sacred Wood of T.S. Eliot. Literary criticism, to survive, must abandon the universities, where "cultural criticism" is a triumphant beast not to be expelled."
Oh... and like with any good meal, don't forget to have an excellent wine in tow!
Moonlit Cove - Albert Pinkham Ryder
Sorrows of the Moon
Tonight the moon dreams in a deeper languidness,
And, like a beauty on her cushions, lies at rest:
While drifting off to sleep, a tentative caress
Seeks, with a gentle hand, the contour of her breast;
As on a crest above her silken avalanche,
Dying, she yields herself to an unending swoon,
And sees a pallid vision everywhere she'd glance,
In the azure sky where blossoms have been strewn.
When sometime, in her weariness, upon her sphere
She might permit herself to sheda furtive tear,
A poet of great piety, a foe of sleep,
Catches in the hollow of his hand that tear,
An opal fragment, iridescent as a star;
Within his heart, far from the sun, it's buried deep.
-Charles Baudelaire
-Alex Kirkbride
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