Monday, November 29, 2010
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Stalker--Ron Mouadeb
You stalked me from dawn to dusk,
and rounded the earth at night.
You tried to hide behind a shield of darkness,
and watched me brilliantly from the moon instead.
You tortured me with your full body glowing,
and teased me with the faintest crescent smiles.
You put seven seas between us,
but I still set out to feel your warmth against my now frigid flesh.
I swim, with each stroke leaving me at precisely the same spot.
As you continue to dip into the sea
just beyond the horizon,
forever out of reach.
and rounded the earth at night.
You tried to hide behind a shield of darkness,
and watched me brilliantly from the moon instead.
You tortured me with your full body glowing,
and teased me with the faintest crescent smiles.
You put seven seas between us,
but I still set out to feel your warmth against my now frigid flesh.
I swim, with each stroke leaving me at precisely the same spot.
As you continue to dip into the sea
just beyond the horizon,
forever out of reach.
The Marsh--David Oropeza
When the body racks up numbers, it’s strange what routine can pacify and more strange how frightful one gets without it. There ain’t a wind that moves a dead leaf here in this marsh. Deadness can grow too. Give life to still more deadness. One forgets that easy, one thinks you’re alive when one has been long sleeping away in a hundred-foot-deep marsh. And the voices of living come about you like a cushion to deafen a blow. I have not felt a hand in my heart for sometime time; why is it when it comes, it feels cold?
Suburban Solitude--Ron Mouadeb
I felt the gravel crunch beneath the worn-out tires of my bike.
There I was, gliding across the blacktop of my made-up suburbia.
There was the cul-de-sac where I would have played hockey.
And there was the old maple tree where my bus stop would have been.
I pedaled across the railroad tracks to the silent streets where I would have bought cotton candy and baseball cards.
Where I would have wasted lazy summer afternoons, drinking pop and chasing down fly balls.
Where I would have scraped my knees and chipped a tooth.
Where I would have started fire from a magnifying glass.
Where I would have fallen in love with an older girl.
I pedaled further to the field where I would have had my first kiss,
and stopped by the dark blue bleachers where I would have had my first broken nose,
my first warm beer and my first vomit-inducing cigarette.
I flew past stop signs and red lights. I was an outlaw on these streets.
Down the hill where my high school would have been, on the steps where I would have sat, I stopped to look around.
And above, where stars would have shone, I saw deep into the night.
I spat at the would-be sparkling night sky.
I pedaled furiously up the hill, my legs burning as I pumped over the crest and back into a free fall where an October night’s light wind would have given me the feeling that, momentarily,
I was gliding over the blacktop of my made-up suburbia.
I closed my eyes and let go of the handlebars.
And with my arms spread out, the smell of fresh grass tickling my mind, and miles of blacktop for me to discover, I would have believed it too.
There I was, gliding across the blacktop of my made-up suburbia.
There was the cul-de-sac where I would have played hockey.
And there was the old maple tree where my bus stop would have been.
I pedaled across the railroad tracks to the silent streets where I would have bought cotton candy and baseball cards.
Where I would have wasted lazy summer afternoons, drinking pop and chasing down fly balls.
Where I would have scraped my knees and chipped a tooth.
Where I would have started fire from a magnifying glass.
Where I would have fallen in love with an older girl.
I pedaled further to the field where I would have had my first kiss,
and stopped by the dark blue bleachers where I would have had my first broken nose,
my first warm beer and my first vomit-inducing cigarette.
I flew past stop signs and red lights. I was an outlaw on these streets.
Down the hill where my high school would have been, on the steps where I would have sat, I stopped to look around.
And above, where stars would have shone, I saw deep into the night.
I spat at the would-be sparkling night sky.
I pedaled furiously up the hill, my legs burning as I pumped over the crest and back into a free fall where an October night’s light wind would have given me the feeling that, momentarily,
I was gliding over the blacktop of my made-up suburbia.
I closed my eyes and let go of the handlebars.
And with my arms spread out, the smell of fresh grass tickling my mind, and miles of blacktop for me to discover, I would have believed it too.
A Food Affair--Rebecca Forbes
When I look back at the evolution of how I’ve learned to cook, I think of two things: my dad and the Food Network. And, perhaps none too surprising, they are in themselves linked. My dad, after all, brought the Food Network into our house. I remember the nights when he’d put it on, usually Emeril. Those were the days when I wanted to watch anything but that.
Eventually, I grew to love the Food Network. I look back on those years now and see its true mark on my formative years. I remember the shows that have all but disappeared now (“The Best Of”) and the hosts who moved on to other ventures (Dave Lieberman and Nigella Lawson, whose absences I actually miss). I remember Rachael Ray before she was Rachael Ray!, the larger-than-life figure she is now, but as the spunky upstart with the retro broiler. Times have changed, as they are bound to. The network has adapted, even going so far as to have reality shows — though thankfully they have better, more interesting premises than other networks’ “reality” hits.
In recent years, the Food Network has even been charged in some circles with creating food “celebrities,” as if such a moniker somehow negates their work. In point of fact, yes, the Food Network did usher in the “celebrity chef” but the larger truth is that the celebrity chef is still, in fact, a chef — an educated, talented, worldly person who just happens to teach their craft on TV. In truth, the network’s greatest achievement remains how accessible they make cooking to the average American. By bringing classically trained chefs to the television screen, they made cooking less daunting and more exciting. Beyond that, Ray proved that anyone can learn to cook and cook well with her debut sensation “30 Minute Meals.” Since then, the network has searched tirelessly for others like her and gifted a few lucky ones with shows of their own. Now, the Food Network is a lovely medley of chefs, entrepreneurs, restaurateurs and “regular” people, all helping to teach every kind of modern American.
One of the greatest shows on the network, and my new favorite, is “The Best Thing I Ever Ate,” which brings together Food Network stars as well as other luminaries in the industry including chefs, restaurateurs and food writers like Frank Bruni. As the title suggests, each profiles their favorite dishes, usually corresponding to a theme. It’s a great show, not only because it brings so many of them together, but also because it spotlights restaurants all over the country (as does another great one “Diners, Drive-ins and Dives,” but that’s another story). It’s the perfect demonstration of support from one chef — from one foodie — to another. Funny, light-hearted and interesting, it’s an experience beyond a normal food show, more like watching a conversation unfold over 30 minutes. The camaraderie among the various featured chefs jumps off the screen, particularly when playful competitions erupt. What makes it truly fantastic is how it captures the authenticity and real personality of each person. To see someone talk about what they love is to see who they really are and that is so clearly illustrated on “The Best Thing I Ever Ate.” Their passion for food, both creating and eating it, is evident with every episode.
“The Best Thing I Ever Ate” — or BTIEA as I like to call it sometimes in a moment of laziness or sheer excitement to talk about it as quickly as possible (hey, it’s a long name) — is now DVR television for me. I have an ever-growing list of profiled restaurants that I must eventually go to because someone on the show mentioned this amazing something. Beyond what I hear about is who tells me about it and they, to be honest, are the best part. Alongside veterans like the perky Ray, genius Alton Brown, charming Marc Summers and witty Ted Allen, is the next generation: the delightful Sunny Anderson (literally as cheery as her name suggests), affable Duff Goldman, vivacious Claire Robinson, adventurous Chris Cosentino (he once spoke on prosciutto ice cream, leaving the Italian in me simultaneously apprehensive and intrigued) and hilarious Adam Gertler. They make the most insane dishes sound just insane enough to be completely awesome.
I’d venture to say the Food Network is at a great stage right now. Gone are the days when I would grumble at watching it. The Food Network nurtured my love of food and continues to kindle the fire. Now, I read the Dining section of The New York Times every Wednesday (after waiting in anticipation Mondays and Tuesdays). I look to Yelp and the Zagat guides as partners in food-related decisions. I read cookbooks (some by the Food Network’s own) for fun.
Guess when it comes to the remote control battles, my dad’s leading by 1.
Eventually, I grew to love the Food Network. I look back on those years now and see its true mark on my formative years. I remember the shows that have all but disappeared now (“The Best Of”) and the hosts who moved on to other ventures (Dave Lieberman and Nigella Lawson, whose absences I actually miss). I remember Rachael Ray before she was Rachael Ray!, the larger-than-life figure she is now, but as the spunky upstart with the retro broiler. Times have changed, as they are bound to. The network has adapted, even going so far as to have reality shows — though thankfully they have better, more interesting premises than other networks’ “reality” hits.
In recent years, the Food Network has even been charged in some circles with creating food “celebrities,” as if such a moniker somehow negates their work. In point of fact, yes, the Food Network did usher in the “celebrity chef” but the larger truth is that the celebrity chef is still, in fact, a chef — an educated, talented, worldly person who just happens to teach their craft on TV. In truth, the network’s greatest achievement remains how accessible they make cooking to the average American. By bringing classically trained chefs to the television screen, they made cooking less daunting and more exciting. Beyond that, Ray proved that anyone can learn to cook and cook well with her debut sensation “30 Minute Meals.” Since then, the network has searched tirelessly for others like her and gifted a few lucky ones with shows of their own. Now, the Food Network is a lovely medley of chefs, entrepreneurs, restaurateurs and “regular” people, all helping to teach every kind of modern American.
One of the greatest shows on the network, and my new favorite, is “The Best Thing I Ever Ate,” which brings together Food Network stars as well as other luminaries in the industry including chefs, restaurateurs and food writers like Frank Bruni. As the title suggests, each profiles their favorite dishes, usually corresponding to a theme. It’s a great show, not only because it brings so many of them together, but also because it spotlights restaurants all over the country (as does another great one “Diners, Drive-ins and Dives,” but that’s another story). It’s the perfect demonstration of support from one chef — from one foodie — to another. Funny, light-hearted and interesting, it’s an experience beyond a normal food show, more like watching a conversation unfold over 30 minutes. The camaraderie among the various featured chefs jumps off the screen, particularly when playful competitions erupt. What makes it truly fantastic is how it captures the authenticity and real personality of each person. To see someone talk about what they love is to see who they really are and that is so clearly illustrated on “The Best Thing I Ever Ate.” Their passion for food, both creating and eating it, is evident with every episode.
“The Best Thing I Ever Ate” — or BTIEA as I like to call it sometimes in a moment of laziness or sheer excitement to talk about it as quickly as possible (hey, it’s a long name) — is now DVR television for me. I have an ever-growing list of profiled restaurants that I must eventually go to because someone on the show mentioned this amazing something. Beyond what I hear about is who tells me about it and they, to be honest, are the best part. Alongside veterans like the perky Ray, genius Alton Brown, charming Marc Summers and witty Ted Allen, is the next generation: the delightful Sunny Anderson (literally as cheery as her name suggests), affable Duff Goldman, vivacious Claire Robinson, adventurous Chris Cosentino (he once spoke on prosciutto ice cream, leaving the Italian in me simultaneously apprehensive and intrigued) and hilarious Adam Gertler. They make the most insane dishes sound just insane enough to be completely awesome.
I’d venture to say the Food Network is at a great stage right now. Gone are the days when I would grumble at watching it. The Food Network nurtured my love of food and continues to kindle the fire. Now, I read the Dining section of The New York Times every Wednesday (after waiting in anticipation Mondays and Tuesdays). I look to Yelp and the Zagat guides as partners in food-related decisions. I read cookbooks (some by the Food Network’s own) for fun.
Guess when it comes to the remote control battles, my dad’s leading by 1.
Pink Slip--Ron Mouadeb
Lex,
It has come to my attention that you are no longer providing the service you were hired for.
What I gained from your employment is nothing compared to the irreparable losses you have cost me.
You didn’t provide the protection I needed, and as my refuge from pain, you seemed only to cause more.
For three years you blinded me to the point that I could not tell if you were ever real.
I regret to inform you that our three-year commitment will officially be terminated, effective immediately.
In another world you would have been an angel, hand delivered to me by men in white, wrapped with my name all over you.
I loved you, once.
But now I love that I won’t have to.
It has come to my attention that you are no longer providing the service you were hired for.
What I gained from your employment is nothing compared to the irreparable losses you have cost me.
You didn’t provide the protection I needed, and as my refuge from pain, you seemed only to cause more.
For three years you blinded me to the point that I could not tell if you were ever real.
I regret to inform you that our three-year commitment will officially be terminated, effective immediately.
In another world you would have been an angel, hand delivered to me by men in white, wrapped with my name all over you.
I loved you, once.
But now I love that I won’t have to.
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