(photo courtesy of the internet. yay.)
winter /
(photo courtesy of the internet. yay.)
(photo courtesy of the internet. yay.)
Tata Jesus is bängala! /
I liked the Poisonwood Bible in large part because it is so openly and thoroughly critical of USAmerica in a way that so few other American authors dare to be. It's kind of an exposé in fictional form. Also, this:
"All human odes are essentially one. 'My life: what I stole from history, and how I live with it.' "
recent acquisition /
I bought it used for $25!
so refined /
incredibly buttery cookies. I barely helped – all credit goes to Kristin and Natanya, the true bakers. These cookies were fabulous; I continue to find their shape utterly nonsensical.Why the long spoon? Well may you ask. It seems to have become our go-to piece of whimsy.
let the seasons begin /
the leaves have finally decided to change color. Almost overnight, San Francisco has decided it's fall. Never mind that it's December; the calendar's just a construct and it's not much use in this town, anyway. I get ready for my first snowless winter in a few years. I still have all the accessories, but really these hats, scarves, and mittens, they're decorative in this town. A comforting reminder of how cold it isn't. But to see my breath. To blow air on my dry and reddened fingers, waiting for the light to change. My cold ears unprotected by my bike helmet. Singing down the street, dark and echoing. It's it's own kind of winter.
my goodness /
Mister Foe is arguably the worst and creepiest bildungsroman film I've ever seen. An extra sincere hats-off to Jamie Bell (once Billy Elliot), then, for extraordinary charisma. I wouldn't have finished watching it, otherwise, as it was kind of unapologetically hideous. Hope his projects get better.
things about which Zoë Heller and I disagree /
At City Arts and Lectures Wednesday evening, Zoë Heller said she wasn't bothered by film adaptations of books which were quite different from the text upon which they were ostensibly based because the film was "a related but separate artifact and that's fine." Well and good I suppose but I could never imagine having such an attitude towards my own work. She later remarked that "It has never occurred to me to read books in search of potential pals."
She was funny and interesting. Still. Perhaps she has an easier time with people than I do. Some of my best friends are books.
people dream up /
the darndest things
home away from /
I hadn't had an American Thanksgiving in two years. Last year in Munich, I succeeded in putting on a pretty decent dinner, turkey and all. Sure, I mucked up the gravy, but everything else was good, and I introduced some Germans to the wonders of stuffing. Easily one of the more grown-up and adult accomplishments of my life to date. Much more preferable, however, to throw it all out the window and down the drain and revert wonderfully to childhood where my mother cooks fiendishly and won't let anyone step in the kitchen. (I've extracted a promise that I'll be allowed to help out next year). I got fed endlessly for four days and was reminded of all I loathe and dread about the suburbs. At about 11pm, with my dad in the living room watching Fox, the dog snoring on the floor, the rest of the house in bed and me lying on the couch in the front room, reading a novel and day-dreaming with the other half of my brain I thought this could have happened a decade ago. And did.
Still, it's not all housing developments and quiet desperation. On Saturday I went for an outing with my Mom; we started at Snow's Citrus Court, a small family orchard in Newcastle (a neighboring suburb to the one I was raised in, Orangevale, no longer a vale particularly noted for its oranges) where we bought Satsuma mandarins and some mandarin-based marinades.
persimmons out to dry Then, we went for a stroll through some recently reclaimed open space.
We ended with wine tasting at Mt. Vernon Winery, which had been wildly successful (especially relative to it size) at the most recent California State Fair, and makes, among other whimsical blends, a "Girly Man" Syrah. I'm not a fan of the governator but it's a tasty red. You can keep your Napa and your Sonoma. At the little wineries in Placer and Amador counties, tasting is free and refreshingly devoid of snobbery.
predictions /
"When a newspaper dies in America, it is not simply that a commercial enterprise has failed. If the San Francisco Chronicle is near death – and why else would the editors celebrate it 144th anniversary? and why else would editors devote a week to feature articles on fog? – it is because San Francisco's sense of itself as a city is perishing...
We will end up with one and a half cities in America – Washington, D.C., and American Idol. We will all live in Washington, D.C., where the conversation is a droning, never advancing, debate between 'conservatives' and 'liberals.' We will not read about newlyweds. We will not read about the deaths of salesmen. We will not read about prize Holsteins or new novels. We are a nation dismantling the structure of intellectual property and all critical apparatus."
- Richard Rodriguez, "Final Edition: Twilight of the American newspaper," Harper's, Nov. 2009
In this same article, I learned that the word "hoodlum" was coined in San Francisco. Neat! Of course (of course), I'm hoping he's wrong.
glorious /
Cha-Ya kind of blew my mind Saturday night. Then on Sunday there was
(beet and apple pizza with ricotta)
and
and
and a really gorgeous pumpkin pie that I stupidly forgot to take a picture of.
And that's only the food.
Barbara Kingsolver is Dr. Frankenstein /
according to her (but then, aren't all authors?). That's a direct quote. As is:
"My country does not encourage me to view it as a work in progress, but as a perfect, finished product, and if you criticize it, you are called 'unAmerican.' "
"When I'm reading a novel – and I try, I do, I give it a chance, at least fifty pages – I ask myself: Do I care what happens to these people? And if not, why keep reading? Because they're not real!"
"The greatest virtue of fiction, in my opinion, is that it creates empathy for the theoretical stranger...By reading novels, we're participating in a profoundly political act."
She also referred to writing as a "barely controlled lunacy." I like that.
better than a cartouche /
At the touring King Tut exhibition currently at the De Young, I fell in love with the Magical Brick of Thutmosis IV. According to the display tag, "An image on a magical brick was placed in hall niches of burial chambers to ward off dangers from the north, south, east, or west. This northern example warned:
'You who come to pull [my hair], I will not allow you to pull [my hair].' "Sure, it had nothing on Egypt. But the labeling was worlds and galaxies better than in the Cairo museum.
I think that I shall never see /
a poem as lovely as a stuffed bell pepper. Oh Kristin, you could convert the most hardened of carnivores.
topped with mashed sweet potatoes and beets. Not homemade but definitely worthy of mention: a parmesan-cream-cheese-garlic dip. Where've you been all my life? backlog /
ain't too proud to beg /
ain't too modest to boast. I figured out some tricky html stuff at work today and boy oh boy do I feel like a genius. Sure, if you know what you're doing, it's quick and easy, but I didn't so it was slow and difficult. Nonetheless, victory is mine! Next up:
1) latin
2) the mighty wurlitzer
3) surfing
4) alchemy
lately in the kitchen /
A somewhat off-the-cuff dinner party on Tuesday mushroomed rapidly from five to fifteen people. Luckily, they brought food. I love it when people bring things that I've always been too intimidated to try making myself:
or when our fantastic downstairs neighbors bring up something tasty:
or when food starts moving towards the absurd, such as the jar-within-a-jar chutney:
Not pictured here but worthy of special mention: the people who brought wine. You are essential.
The group ultimately was too big for the kitchen and we all spilled out into the backyard. I finished up my beet gnocchi (tasty but not up to my aesthetic standards. So, sorry, no photo) and joined the party.
how to do /
"...it's not the notes. It's the spaces between the notes that make the music."- Masimo Vignelli, Helvetica
pumpkins after the rain /
Our jack-o'-lanterns have decayed rather spectacularly:
If there is an apocalypse for pumpkins, I think it must look a lot like this.
My poor pumpkin: its snaggle-teeth now like sad dentures, an octogenarian vampire that has to suck blood through a straw.
pejoratives and purgatory /
A funny series of things culminated in me sitting in at the Make-Out Room Friday night, having just watched Mortified - for free! I love my job! - and generally feeling good about the world but also talking to a man whose ideas of gender were so normative it was as if he were a paper doll cut out of the Normal America magazine. Don't call me a jerk; he told me he thought of himself as "normal," that he felt like "most men." These were labels he chose for himself. Actually, I am being inaccurate. He told me he felt like "most dudes." These are the words he chose: "dudes" for men and "chicks" for women. He, easily in his thirties, collared shirt, job at eBay, apartment in SOMA*. Kristin told me the only bar he knew in the Mission was Medjool's* but at first I thought she was joking. Hard to believe that anyone so entirely and willingly signs themselves up for a stereotype.
After about five consecutive uses in our first ten or fifteen minutes of conversation, I said I thought he should reconsider his use of the word "chick," that it was pejorative. This is progress for me, who would have once said flatly "Stop saying that word, it's ridiculous." To his credit, he thought about it. He went on to tell me how men feel when they see a beautiful woman. You don't need to tell me about it, I said, you don't know me. I like women sometimes, did you know that? Well, he replied, I assumed. This was veryvery funny to me. Perhaps only the second or third time (that I know about) in my life when someone's assumed I'm a lesbian. Because I have short hair? I asked through the laughter. What if I told you that I like men sometimes, too? Did you know that also? No, he said. I didn't. Right, I replied. Because you don't know me. Again on the topic of personal progress, I managed to say (and feel) this not-antagonistically.
Although it goes against years of training and toughness and being ready to fight the world with teeth bared and balled fists, I have for some years now been making an effort to practice more enfoldment-like techniques (thank you, Sally Gearhart) with, let us be honest, mixed success. It is hard for me to overcome my combativeness. But shouting, insulting, and even out-talking are not effective methods of persuasion**, of stimulating discussion, or creating an atmosphere where people might begin to reconsider or at least consider reconsidering something which is to many as fundamental and unneeding of questioning as gender roles. I, however, am damn interested in having people question.
*cheat-sheet for non-Sanfranciscans: these are kind of gross trendy places for yuppies
**I know, I know, if I were really interested in enfoldment (more here) I wouldn't be talking about persuasion at all. Oh well. I tend to think of my minimal goal as seed-planting.