Look close at a tree. I mean, really close. A tree is really, when you look close a bit alien, a bit other than you, if you’re human, and then again there’s something familiar looking back out at you. Other and you. Rooted to place and branching above, its skin is alive and revealing of … Continue reading Thinking About The God Pan While Taking A Walk With Arthur Machen, Nick Cave, Genesis, Sean Carroll And The Cat In The Hat As A Deer Stock Back Home Bubbles.
Rock, shadow, hole in ice, ring of trees, sky. W.S. Merwin passed from this life into the further reaches of Hawaii last Saturday. Certainly one of the great poetic voices through the latter half of the 20th century and into the 21st, Merwin captivated readers with his consummate literary skill, knowledge of literary traditions ranging through … Continue reading What The Boys Said To Homer: W.S. Merwin’s The Lice And Our Fragile Place In The World.
A love song can devastate, render us a pool of ache and tears. A love song may speak to our love in this world, and our desire to claim love beyond physical and temporal bounds. A love may hunger for the divine. I first heard “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” in the … Continue reading In Praise Of Love With Roberta Flack, Heraclitus, Apuleius, Pseudo-Dionysus The Areopagite, Jalaluddin Rumi, Johnny Cash, Rabia Basri, Allan Bloom, Bob Dylan, Scarlett Rivera And A Cup Of Instant Coffee Before I Go To The Valley Below.
Fire, wood, smoker and flesh equals Smoking Houston, and smoking I have done with and for family and friends while sitting in the backyard at 2408 Cortlandt. A favorite has been pork belly marinated in apple cider, brown sugar, honey, molasses and herbs seasonings. Smoking the inner organs of animals like this cow heart brings … Continue reading Smoking Houston
Take a study of natural forces, add a healthy pour of figurative language and delicious fragments from the natural philosophers from the eighth and seventh centuries BCE throughout the Aegean, especially in the Greek letters of Heraclitus. Consider, Fragment 7: εἰ πάντα τὰπάντα καπνὸς γένοιτο, ῥῖνες ἂν διαγνοῖεν. Transliterated into our alphabet, and we read: … Continue reading Heraclitus On Smoke; Hervé Smoking.
The Magician (1952) by Rene Magritte where the fantasy of a human with four arms navigating table to mouth contains a question for our senses–is taste, along with our other senses, a fantasy, an illusion? This steak may not be a steak. We are familiar with questions about the veracity of our senses. They’ve been … Continue reading What Is Really In My Mouth? The Case For Cypher Over Socrates.
There’s something compelling about cooking bones. Maybe it’s the strangeness of seeing recognizable body parts within a food culture that so successfully conceals any connection between meat and a living or dead animal. Maybe it’s a deep memory in the brain stem of scaring off predators from their kill, gathering bones with shreds of meat, … Continue reading Cooking The Bones: Pleasures Of The Table And The Grim Reaper