29 July 2008

My New Strategy for Dinner

1.) Boil some water
2.) Add some frozen cheese ravioli to boiling water; cook
3.) Meanwhile (in the two minutes they're cooking), heat olive oil in a small pan
4.) Saute garlic and some crushed red pepper
5.) Throw in a can of diced or crushed tomatoes; stir
6.) Add snipped fresh basil (four big leaves? more? less?) if available
7.) Drain pasta; toss sauce with pasta; consume

CONSUME or INHALE like me, when I am so absurdly hungry for dinner. What is the deal with being so hungry? I eat like a real person, especially like a real person in an affluent country with lots of food available. Oh well, absurd hunger: I will satisfy you.

Things I should probably be doing:
1.) more dishes my dishwasher cannot do, as it has died
2.) laundry, oh the never-ending laundry
3.) vaccuum
4.) figure out what my neighbors are jabbering about in the hall ... it's raining, what else is new?

What else causes jabber?

Oh and something I'm not going to talk much about until it's ready for real: I'm writing a book review! And since secrets are so much better, I will keep the book and the people secret for now. Let me say it is awesome, I am honored, it doesn't pay, and I am still honored. Poems full of declarative sentences? Poems full of white things, blue things, black things?

Okay, that thunder crash is saying, go get some candles, little girl, and a match, just in case.

21 July 2008

class vs. class

Saw The Dark Knight; more in love with the Joker's makeup than anything else. I don't know; something about rich-boy do-gooder sets me off. Rubs the wrong way, if you will. Still like a big film on a big screen, especially one that uses so much BLACK.

Here's a snippet of Noah and me discussing:

me: I'm thinking of doing a class-based critique of Batman.
Noah: You could do an independent study.
me: Independent of class and program?
Noah: ... You mean economic class, don't you?
me: Yes.
Noah: You can still do it; you'll be independent of deadlines ... ?

Oh Noah, oh Noah. One of us is a student, and one of us is not; one of us is a systems engineer (I've recently decided that sounds both more accurate and cooler than 'general') and one of us is me.

This just in, an update on me and clay: toilet brushes are the perfect thing for stirring glazes in buckets that have sat, untouched, and separated into their sediments and water. Definitely toilet brushes. Also I was assigned all the crazy-hard-to-make glazes, and I appreciate this immensely. Purple? Yellow? "Mirror Mirror" that actually does reflect light? Yeah, I can probably mix those up. I can use a scale. If they have the million things that go in those, then sure, I can do it.

Does wood ash melt at cone six? Does glass? These are things I need to know.

Also, New Belgium's Mothership Wit is a fine hefeweizen.

16 July 2008

"If Panache is What It Takes to Brighten the Musty Corners of Your Soul"

Got a raise! It just overtakes the cost of inflation!

I am actually excited, actually, because this means I feel okay eating the pomme frites with truffle oil and creamy Parmesan sauce, drinking the hoppy draft beer, eating the Custard Cup Heath snowstorms.

And Jeff, yes, these salt blocks ... they speak to me. I want seven.

Take it from the salt people:

"h) If panache is what it takes to brighten the musty corners of your soul, try serving up an entire meal using large round or square Himalayan salt plates. Moist foods take on a touch of saltiness, dry foods do not, and everything glows with the otherworldly power of the ancient world (see Ogling below)."


15 July 2008

A Dream

Standing in an airport, next to a man I don't know, who just keeps looking out the window at a slow, pink sunset. Lots of bustle; just the sunset.

11 July 2008

My Bizarre Love of Humidity

It's bizarre.

But it arises especially in mid-summer, when the air conditioning in nearly every building is so cold, and I am dressed for not-cold, and so I go inside and get very cold, then go outside and breathe, "Ah -- humidity!"

Also, I'm in such a mold-busting regimen that I can't switch to a dry-skin-care regimen now. So humidity it is. And humidity is nostalgic for me. I haven't gone that far out of the Midwest for that long, but every time I leave and my skin dries out, I don't know what to do ...

Another thing in the not-knowing-what-to-do category: I made four friends at work, two are gone (and I had another pre-work friend who is still a post-work friend, Ms. L), another is leaving within the calendar year, and I ... I remain. I'm not really friends with my coworkers, not anti either, but not friends ... I see knitting and reading on breaks in my future. Also the possibility of taking walks (in the humid air) on my breaks.

Is it too silly to buy this blouse with birthday money? I'm leaning towards no, not too silly, for it is a blouse I dreamed of for weeks and then saw on Anthropologie. So? the buying?

I keep thinking about dreams, intelligence, intuition, and learned behavior today. Do less intelligent people (and how to measure intelligence is enough of an issue) exhibit less intuition? More? Do higher intelligence and intuition collide at some point negatively, where the higher intelligence starts prohibiting the intuition because of too much analytical ability? And dreams -- do less intelligent people have less intelligent dreams? How can that be compared?

And what if a person possesses, however this happens, higher intelligence, but through learned behavior, begins to lose that intelligence? Can we make ourselves dumber, or do we just act dumber? Do you lose intelligence if you don't use it? I've experienced the loss of old memories when new knowledge had to take its place (the saddest example is rosters of Rhet students and childhood memories) -- is it like that, limited somehow? Or depreciating -- are those memories worth as much, as full (I won't say accurate) as they used to be?

Outside of the chemical death of brain cells, can I lose intelligence?

I'm thinking of all this because I'm getting ready to start writing, making, and designing in some kind of stricter way, some way that says "this is an act that is worth your time, and if you don't do it, it will fade." Because I haven't been able to keep a pot on the wheel yet, and that's so disheartening that I stopped trying for nearly a month. And I'm a bit worried that I'm losing some of that intelligence, that memory, and also that I can be taught to not value that intelligence in myself and let it go.

07 July 2008

"Hear me out"

I'm not sure what policy Starbucks baristas have regarding sleepy drivers who wander into their shops, looking for caffeine, but I feel that I might have butt up against it last night in Effingham. Between the blond's really perky "Hi!" and her manager's questions about my leavings and goings, I felt them both getting ready to call, I don't know, who do you call? The cops? She nearly sold me a double tall latte at 10pm.

Eto lets me know he missed me with incessant licking and small bites. Also the not leaving my side.

Anyway, something today got me thinking of William Carlos Williams and "Asphodel, That Greeny Flower" so I think I will end this non-post with an excerpt of his. I think the best line, still, is "Hear me out. / Do not turn away." Of course I can't get Blogger to keep the formatting ...

I cannot say
that I have gone to hell
for your love
but often
found myself there
in your pursuit.
I do not like it
and wanted to be
in heaven. Hear me out.
Do not turn away.
I have learned much in my life
from books
and out of them
about love.
is not the end of it.

03 July 2008

Sleep is So Uncool

I certainly don't believe that, but my body certainly does. It's all, oh sleep, so last season; the big new thing is the return of the puffy under-eye circles that will not lighten no matter the makeup; isn't the room more exciting when it's a little spinny even without any drinks at all?

And yes, I'm going to take another nap in a little while.

I bought two wonderful used books yesterday: that bizarre facsimile of TS Eliot's original and edited version of The Waste Land, and also Kant's Critique of Pure Reason (it's the fault of officemate Kyle, though I admit the scary scribbled notes all through the front matter did draw me in).

This TSE manuscript book is fascinating. The book isn't anything new for those who know, but I often am not among them, so I'm still in awe. There's also no good reason I keep quoting from it these days, but I can't stop. Unreal City ... I did not know death had undone so many ...

On a brief jaunt to STL tomorrow; when it's been this long, I usually get choked up at the sight of the Mississippi River valley. Tofu kebabs for everyone!

01 July 2008

Big Ol' Update

Warning for cupcake fanatics: cupcakeblog.com is dead. The archives are up, they are not nearly as searchable, but man, can that woman make a cupcake. Cupcake/chemical engineer, may you and your newborn rest well.

I was in Chicago! For a long time! Noah took me to see Stevie Wonder (or hear, in the midst of nearly a million other people in Grant Park), to eat food on sticks (or even better, cheesecake and grilled plaintains), and then -- surprise -- on a jet boat off Navy Pier to watch fireworks. You are a good man, you Noah-man.

And we saw his dad and Nancy, and his aunt and uncle who make hand-cut wooden puzzles, and we worked their craft fair booth with them despite the pounding rain. And the next booth over was a potter who fires a wood/soda kiln! Wood and soda with a catenary arch and kiln bricks in her backyard. Oh my. We talked a lot. I'm sad I didn't buy a tea bowl, but I promised myself to stop buying ceramics for a while, and I kept the promise. And we saw nieces and siblings (in-law), and my oldest niece Selah not only remembers me but LOVES me. I love you too, Selah! Now go to bed!

Officemate Kyle and I (yes, he's a returning character) have made our third mix CD, and it may be the final installment. It's a double -- quiet and loud -- and it is amazing. I will send you all a copy if you want. It will rock your socks, especially if your socks alternately love really sad songs and really goofy pop songs. And clap tracks, and men and women harmonizing, and trumpet peals. Those are themes, apparently.

Heading to STL for family time, barbecue, more barbecue, etc.

Working a lot before I go. Going back to that now. Note: taking on copyediting jobs that will take at least 7 hours, and planning to finish them in three nights or less, is maybe ill-advised.