Wednesday, August 31, 2011

à la recherche de Gertrude Stein

When I am feeling depressed and anxious and sullen
all you have to do is take your clothes off
and all is wiped away revealing life’s tenderness
that we are flesh and breathe and are near us
as you are really as you are I become as I
really am alive and knowing vaguely what is
and what is important to me above the intrusions
of incident and accidental relationships
which have nothing to do with my life

when I am in your presence I feel life is strong
and will defeat all its enemies and all of mine
and all of yours and yours in you and mine in me
sick logic and feeble reasoning are cured
by the perfect symmetry of your arms and legs
spread out making an eternal circle together
creating a golden pillar beside the Atlantic
the faint line of hair dividing your torso
gives my mind rest and emotions their release
into the infinite air where since once we are
together we always will be in this life come what may
--Frank O’Hara

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Pici With Summer Squash, Squash Blossoms and Pecorino

Heat oven to 225 degrees. Arrange 1 pound Roma tomatoes, halved, on a sheet pan and drizzle with olive and sprinkle with salt. Bake for 2-3 hours until tomatoes have lost a lot of their moisture and are slightly browned at the edges, then reserve.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Slice 2-3 medium summer squash (try tromboncino, if you can find it) into ¼-inch rounds. Place a large sauté pan over medium heat and coat with olive oil. Add 1 clove garlic, brown gently and discard. Add squash and sauté until golden.
Add reserved oven-roasted tomatoes to the sauté pan and let them break down. Simmer for 2 minutes, add a big handful whole or hand-torn squash blossoms, simmer 2 minutes and season to taste.
Cook 1 pound pici in boiling water until al dente and drain, reserving a little of the water. Add pici to sauté pan and cook 1 minute more on high heat; add a little pasta water to loosen the sauce if needed.
Divide pasta between six bowls and top with grated pecorino and a drizzle of olive oil. Serves 6.
[Michael Tusk of Quince in San Francisco // Wall Street Journal, Food & Drink]

Monday, August 15, 2011

"I love things with a wild passion, extravagantly. I cherish tongs, and scissors; I adore cups, hoops, soup turrents, not to mention of course- the hat. I love all things, not only the grand, but also the infinitely small: the thimble, spurs, dishes, vases. Oh, my soul, the planet is radiant, teeming with pipes in hand, conductors of smoke; with keys, saltshakers, and well, things crafted by the human hand, everything- the curve of a shoe, fabric, the new bloodless birth of gold, the eyeglasses, nails, brooms, watches, compasses, coins, the silken plushness of chairs. Oh humans have constructed a multitude of pure things: objects of wood, crystal, cord, wondrous tables, ships, staircases. I love all things, not because they might be warm or fragrant, but rather because- I don’t know why, because this ocean is yours, and mine: the buttons, the wheels, the little forgotten treasures, the fans of feathery love spreading orange blossoms, the cups, the knives, the shears, everything rests in the handle, the contour, the traces of fingers, of a remote hand lost in the most forgotten regions of the ordinary obscured. I pass through houses, streets, elevators, touching things; I glimpse objects and secretly desire something because it chimes, and something else because, because it is as yielding as gentle hips, something else I adore for its deepwater hue, something else for its velvety depths. Oh irrevocable river of things. People will not say that I only loved fish or plants of the rain forest or meadow, that I only loved things that leap, rise, sigh, and survive. It is not true: many things gave me completeness. They did not only touch me. My hand did not merely touch them, but rather, they befriended my existence in such a way that with me, they indeed existed, and they were for me so full of life, and they lived with me half-alive, and they will die with me half-dead."

-- Pablo Neruda

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Saturday, August 6, 2011

the Rick Mereki project

"3 guys, 44 days, 11 countries, 18 flights, 38 thousand miles, an exploding volcano, 2 cameras and almost a terabyte of footage... all to turn 3 ambitious linear concepts based on movement, learning and food ....into 3 beautiful and hopefully compelling short films....."
[Rick Mereki]

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Splendor in the Grass.

...What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind. ...
             from William Wordworth's "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early   

Monday, August 1, 2011

the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls

are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
(also, with the church's protestant blessings
daughters, unscented shapeless spirited)
they believe in Christ and Longfellow,both dead,
are invariably interested in so many things-
at the present writing one still finds
delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles?
perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy
scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D
....the Cambridge ladies do not care,above
Cambridge if sometimes in its box of
sky lavender and cornerless, the
moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy
          e.e. cummings (1894-1962)
Munch's Ladies on the Jetty, 1935
[Data from: University of California, San Diego]