Archives for 2004

“The long way is the short way.”

Wayne Shorter (quoted in Michelle Mercer, Footprints: The Life and Music of Wayne Shorter)

Things have changed in my life this week, and I’ve been a bit slow to devise new routines for myself. Of course, in many ways this has been a less-than-routine week for all of us. But today is the day I embrace normalcy again, even if I have to make up “normal” as I go along. In short: more (real) posting soon! Very soon! In the meantime, a couple of salient points:

– I no longer have an up-to-the-minute computer with a high-speed connection regularly at my disposal. While I work on making my home computer a meaner, leaner machine, I’m going to be especially slow answering email. I seem to need a system update to be able reliably to access ALN‘s web-based email. Patience, please.

– Turns out that one of my favorite dishes, Jambalaya, is easy and quite fun to make! I adapted this recipe according to what I had in the house: two ribs of celery and a jalapeno pepper, all finely diced, in place of the parsley. Also: no cloves in my jambalaya, thank you very much. Results: delicious.

We will shortly return you to your regular arts blogging.

“He was a dangerous man–a convinced man.”

Joseph Conrad, Under Western Eyes

Yes, New Yorkers, I’m looking at you. Erin McKeown, providing the soundtrack to my life since October 2004, performs this Saturday at Irving Plaza with The Waifs, and tickets are still available. How lucky can you get?

Justine Larbalestier cuts right to the way I am feeling this week in a lovely essayette. An excerpt:

I’m all for different perspectives, different ways of living, of seeing the world. One of the glories of being in other places is seeing how varied the world is. I’m so relieved Buenos Aires isn’t exactly like Sydney. That there are places where people don’t know who Elvis is. Spending time in the US I am thrilled every time I discover pop cultural memories the yankees have that I don’t. Growing up in Australia I always thought I knew all about the USA, I could name all the states, knew a tonne about its music and movies and literature, but I didn’t, not even close. I still don’t really know this country, I probably never will. That makes me happy.

But the gulfs. All those Bob Evans people and Baristas people living in the same towns, same cities, sometimes shopping in the same stores, or going to the same churches, who can’t talk to each other, or if they do, can’t make any sense of what the other says. Whose different worlds are so completely incompatible there’s no room for each other in them. That makes me sad.

Read this musing, too. Oh, just go ahead and bookmark her already!

(Thanks to lovely CAAF for the link. A girl with a 4-letter acronym can’t be wrong.)

1. No, not even slightly.

2. Mostly by grunting.

3. Yes, out of a can, acccompanied today by peanut butter and jelly and a pint of warm tap water.

4. The Godfather, Bad Day at Black Rock, and several episodes of What’s My Line? Next up is Pushing Tin.

5. Not a one–I’m too tired to hold them up in bed.

6. Like I swallowed a small sausage that got stuck halfway down.

7. Trust me, you don’t want to know.

8. Tomorrow, I hope, but don’t count on it.

“The only moral to be drawn is that honourable causes are seldom advanced by the employment of lawyers.”

Auberon Waugh, Will This Do?

My cold seems to have given me a swollen uvula, which is one of life’s more comical complaints. It’s helping me concentrate on my writing, though, since I can’t really talk. On the other hand, I’m still feeling moderately crappy!

Once I get Today’s Piece written, drink several gallons of gently warmed fluids, and rack up a hard-earned nap or two, I might well feel moved to blog some more. But don’t count on it.