Archive for the ‘ATAAOA’ Category
(because violet blue red… but that’s
off-topic [and off-color]…)
three green-peppers; none of ’em green.
it’s even beautiful in its package and,
of course, even more so the more they’re
as shown here, the tops have been cut off
and served (with their middles cut out)
with ranch. the next thing that happened
was that a “ring” was cut off at the top
of each and the whole set got bagged and
the rings, in their turn, were opened up
into long slices and split down their
middles, the long way, with a steak knife.
finally (thus far), diced fine and stirred
into a chicken salad (along with some
carrots, also chopped fine, and, obviously,
some chicken—one big american breast).
add mayo to taste; mix; serve. (serving
suggestion: ritz crackers. we’ve got
lettuce & tomato, though, so actual sand-
wiches aren’t out of the question.)
the chili and cornbread are only a couple of hours old.
madeline made ’em and they were great (so far; it’ll
take a couple days to finish ’em). i boned the chicken
(after she baked it); there’s still a little left now.
beverage-committee stuff: fresh lemonade by me, as
usual. ice-tea by me, this time. OJ from concentrate.
milk in a squirt-bottle for coffee (on the door).
if i were even slightly less lazy i’d go back and get
a shot of just the cornbread. it’s done just right
and came out of the pan gorgeous. but maybe i’m not
as lazy as it might sound so far. most of whatever
*i* cook is single-serving size. today i made us
both some taters-and-toast (and mixed up the ‘nade
and the OJ). usually there’s a sandwich or two by
the end of the day, too.
i can be much more specific: quality
comes from caring. caring comes (alas),
from suffering. “art”, on this model,
then, is “turning suffering into beauty”.
exhibit A: any random guitar player.
i’ve met some amazing players in my time
and, like many another, i came up in an
a guitar-music-rich milieu. the “british
invasion” in pop-music, specifically.
john winston lennon… exhibit B… said
something to the effect “give me a *tuba*,
and i’ll make some music out of it”. now.
“john” … as much as anyone… was in a
position to know how much money-changes-
-everything. and *he* decided that baking
bread, one loaf at a time, for his loved
ones, was the best use of his time (if
only for a moment).
exhibit C: all my many-many exes (put together).
and the whole food-is-love *thing*. it’s not
that i’m not grateful. i get it that food is
*primal*. everybody has to eat and nobody knows
why we—as a species (or, for that matter, as a
“people”)—are so blessed. i also get it that
during the time i was coming up, not-having-a-dick
was a life-sentence. boys wore blue and girls wore
pink; bible-belt babies don’t have to think.
exhibit D: thirsty-two-million cooking shows. and
my own. shutting up for now; death to skynet.
(i don’t mean “squint”. fuck the robot-hegemony
generally. i await an editor that can actually