El Jardin

Well, yes I was aware the Academy Awards were well over but I was rooting (tee!) for this documentary myself.

The Full Glass Now Empty

1932-2009

Not much more to say than reiterating what a deep loss Mr Updike's passing is to those of us who cherished his work and worth. His last New Yorker essay, The Full Glass is a poignant vestige.

Sump'in for Friday...

New Year...

ANOTHER full-orbed year hath waned to-day,

And set in the irrevocable past,

And headlong whirled long

Time's winged blast

My fluttering rose of youth is borne away: Ah rose once crimson with the blood of May,

A honeyed haunt where bees would break their fast,

I watch thy scattering petals flee aghast,

And all the flickering rose-lights turning grey.

______________________

Poor fool of life! plagued ever with thy vain Regrets and futile longings! were the years Not cups o'erbrimming still with gall and tears?

Let go thy puny personal joy and pain!

If youth with all its brief hope disappears,

To deathless hope we must be born again.


-Mathilde Blind

Christmas Folly

I hear the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of Peace on Earth, good will to men!

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

: St Nicholas :

-JRR Tolkien

'St Nicholas, mon bon patron,

Envoyez-moi quelque chose de bon.'

-French St Nicholas Prayer

Different Kinds of Leftovers...

Well... 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

: Ringraziamento Felice :

And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express,
Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less,
That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below,
And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow...
- John Greenleaf Whittier

A Diet of Hope... Don't Forget the Tums

Seems Mr Hitchens and I were on the same serendipitous wavelength...

Barack to Reality: Obama's victory didn't magically eliminate America's problems and enemies

Fall, Leaves, Fall

Fall, leaves, fall;

die, flowers, away;

Lengthen night and shorten day;

Every leaf speaks bliss to me

Fluttering from the autumn tree.

I shall smile when wreaths of snow

Blossom where the rose should grow;

I shall sing when night's decay

Ushers in a drearier day.
-Emily Bronte

: Mordego :

Are you willing to be sponged out, erased, canceled, made nothing? If not, you will never really change.

-D.H. Lawrence

Ozymandias

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert... Near them on the sand,

Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,

The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed:

And on the pedestal these words appear:

"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains: round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,

The lone and level sands stretch far away.

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

Wild One

The Eat Local Challenge has started in our state this past Friday and runs until Sunday. It's a ripe time within the season to put you money where your mouth and taste buds should be- straight to the source vs mega-agri-biz farms that have monopolized and literally ruined not only the soil and land, but generations of farmers that have tilled the Earth and provided for countess mouths and minds.

Raj Patel's book Stuffed and Starved and continued efforts are blazing nicely ahead and there is a nice tidbit over at Grist Mill worth the read.

Bonne Appetite!

Never does nature say one thing and wisdom another.

-Juvenal

: nostalgique :

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...

Guess What We Did Today?

Eggplant subji and some beautiful bruschetta-- that'll do it!

___________________

Pray for a good harvest, but continue to hoe.

-Old Saying

What Smells so Bad?

The Black Cow & Galliano

In case you've missed the 100th anniversary of the RBF Chicagoist would like to bring you up to par on this summer concoction by "properly saucing" it up a notch.

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*

-cheers

Brown Turns a New Hand onto a Classic...

... 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.

Deep in the Woods...

... for the annual gathering-performance. There has been some "modernizing" of the cast look which could really blow. I guess it's just so damn difficult to have both the language of Shakespeare and appearance jostling those give-it-to-me-easy-fast-and-mindless masses, c'est ca.

" 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

When Literature was Savored Slowly- like a Good Meal

There seems to be a renewed interest in "lit-crit" lately which I find encouraging and necessary both to counterbalance the plethora of crud saturating every nook and cranny of online book sales, cult-like Oprah book clubs, self-publishers, mega-chain book stores and frankly overly-inflated, sometimes downright pompous writer-wannabes; or as Seaton writes in his review of Praising It New in the WSJ the "many writers with literary pretensions who are now hyped beyond their merits or neglected in spite of them".

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!