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A bit more about gravy. It is indeed a carnivores delight, with browned pork neck bones, and a small lamb shank, that adds a deep delicious flavor. You must also use the Tuttorosso brand of crushed Tomatoes in there somewhere otherwise you're fucked and it won't come out right. Let simmer for 4-6 hours!
So like Indian Summer, so like softness, so like dissonance and restlessness. Blue and bitterness breathing in, breathing out, exhaling the lake, a remembrance of autumn, and the autumn before the one before. Slicing the time pie, giant seconds served up eyeing all ones beautiful boys with unkept hair, untucked shirts, blue jeans, boots, hardily working a cigarette, a wet chunk of Juicy-Fruit and lastly, a dog eared copy of something I can't quite make out. I have the urge to roll my copy of the NYTimes and take a whack at you, break this self imposed silence, step over the crack that divides and all too often conquers strangers, lovers, brothers. My wide shoulders, graze your wide shoulders, collide in an off step waltz, brushed in a passing of something so graceful and intimate, so publicly acceptable. Did you notice the curve where my hand fits into the small of your back, palm side down, feeling the warmth. Does all this pass or stay suspended like time and space in paintings. Liberal use of crimson, elbows on the table, expression frozen. Perhaps an early fall day will make it all the sweeter, and a long cavernous pause, a moment of silence will unravel like a long glorious hidden field of green. For a few moments, I can put down, you can put down, equipment, technology, information, methodology. Place your perceived embarrassment in a pocket. Ashamed to say, uneasy, tense bidding turns fluid and pliable, as words, are dropped and that beautiful ease returns once more. Don't come out swinging, stance, pose, posture, get me on the ropes, call me on the carpet for all my eccentric behavior, the quirks I love. The mistakes are the beauty, small scars, bruises, bumps, misplaced misspellings. Point and shoot, and gesture to my chin, that's where to take it, that's where to receive and to empty, to purge. A certain tightening, a measure of that twisted rope pulling until I exhaust myself or extract a painting, a story, a link, a letter, a phone call. I worry, lack of space, caught in a book bound lullaby, floating all haze polder to satisfy a battery of requirements so that I can someday have the time, or make the time. I'm sorry, I'm listening, I'm here with you now, I'm letting them percolate, simmer to make them plastic, make them whole this rising and convergence of ideas. Never let me catch you ending with a flourish, paragraphs with a bright remark, that odd sort of 'ta da' is nauseating in writing. Getting interrupted, conversations, phone calls while trying to write reminds me of the following from a film: 'Let me explain something to you. Whenever you come in here and interrupt me, you're breaking my concentration. You're distracting me! And it will then take me time to get back to where I was. You understand? Now, we're going to make a new rule. When you come in here and you hear me typing [types] or whether you DON'T hear me typing, or whatever the FUCK you hear me doing; when I'm in here, it means that I am working, THAT means don't come in! Now, do you think you can handle that? Good. Now why don't you start right now and get the fuck out of here? Hm?'
3:10 PM :
Thursday, September 12, 2002
I am wiped out, too much coffee, not enough sleep and a mountain of work. I officially defer posting until tomorrow.
7:00 PM :
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Remember the heroism and the bravery of 9-11. The events are now an emotional triumph and not a bitter defeat. Today we strengthen our resolve to be good and brave in the face of adversity.
2:25 PM :
Tuesday, September 10, 2002
I didn't notice it early in the day, then again, I was going on with my daily business. A strange mood cast over the airwaves as television and radio work overtime to memorialize Sept. 11. Stranger yet will be tomorrows day long broadcast without commercial interruption. It is no surprise, we are under an attack warning, something known as an 'orange alert', a high level warning as issued by the U.S. Government. Orange, a high risk of terrorist attack. You know, it's a weird dichotomy, a continuance of everyday life interspersed with a rather big brother like governmental warning. I'm sure most people ignore them, or don't mind the official vigilance of the government. I question if this vigilance has been firmly integrated into our daily lives. Sure, there is the possibility that we could always adapt, but, do we want to? Do we want to change? I think some eye world politics, we seek out reliable information beyond FOX or CNN, occasionally we turn to the BBC, but peering from the outside in, we never seem to acquire an accurate picture. I suppose I'm speaking of world-wide scope, opinion and reaction. How do our politics play, are we defined by our world wide corporate culture, our consumerism. Sure we are insular to a degree, perhaps even ignorant, but for the first time we are looking at our world wide role, beyond peace keeper, warrior, from the official business of the United Nations, the Middle East and beyond. To 'get on with everyday life' implies habituation, but 'business as usual' not for most of us, not for any of us. I'm still trying to figure out the balance between running the governmental gauntlet of check points, metal detectors, armed guards, i.d. checks and protecting my individual rights. The September 11 attacks collapsed our invulnerability, it destroyed life and symbol, but it didn't destroy our ideologies, our belonging, our family. It did little to change our politics or citizenship but it did strengthen our resolve, our belonging to the family of man, and respect for basic human rights and dignity. With a myriad of symbols that represent us as U.S. citizens, oddly enough, I am comforted by the daily ritual of life in these United States. As you can imagine, there is still so much grief, and with the flood of instant replay, sound bites and the all too familiar images, so much grief. I hope tomorrow there can be healing too, as an eternal optimist, is peace too much to ask for in this crazy world? That said, I'm not sure if I will be writing anything tomorrow, maybe a link back to last year, or a bit recapping the events of the day, anything else seems so trivial. In closing, It makes me proud to be part of this ongoing experiment of democracy, it isn't perfect, sometimes it has been damn shameful, but mostly the glory has been shining and brilliant.
6:59 PM :
Monday, September 09, 2002
Generator operator make circuit with me. In a beautiful bit of blog debbing say hello to Tim at TRCNYC drop by, make link!
1:34 PM :
From: BlueMan Group: "We would like you to experience "Exhibit 13" which was created as a way of expressing personal feelings about the impact of September 11. Members of Blue Man Group collaborated to design and produce all the elements of this piece. The film can be found at Exhibit13.com.
From The New York Times on September 6 an article that appeared on the cover of the Entertainment section begins:
"In tribute to the victims of the 9/11 attacks, Blue Man Group has created an eloquent video. The usually explosive performance artists do not appear in it; there are no blue-painted heads in sight. Instead, pieces of white paper drift down in front of a pure black background as percussive music plays. All these papers were found in Brooklyn, where they floated across the river from the World Trade Center, and as they gently tumble from the top to the bottom of the screen some become legible: a sheet with scorched edges, filled with Japanese calligraphy; a letter that begins "Dear Recruiter," a cover sheet that says "Exhibit 13"...At other times a cascade of falling papers suggests birds or snowflakes or bodies. The video is everything the gargantuan television coverage coming in the next days is not: it is poetic, imagistic and simple; it draws viewers in, inviting us to reflect rather than telling us what to think; it is three and a half minutes long."
9:20 AM :
