Speaking of To The Point

Since we mention being to the point as well as the particular comment that inspired this great motto, let us explore the point(s).

First, however did modern society, in the name of women's liberation, accept concubinage as an acceptible lifestyle?

Second, and more importantly, is this:

The Schiavo case is an extreme, which helps and hinders the exploration of the issue at hand. Obviously most men are not 'enry VIII or Duke Bluebeard. Most attorneys are not George "the impaler" Felos. Most judges are not... well, that is the third issue, since I am afraid most judges are like the weenies (technical term) that have handled this case at every level.

But, have you ever wondered what the young trophy wife is thinking when she "marries" the old coot who left his wife of thirty years? Does she think that she will have thirty years before she is set aside (and hopefully with a generous alimony settlement)? Does she think that this time will be different?

The first explanation is the depressing one, because it shows a willingness to be used as a concubine (and I don't care what the rental fee is, so naturally I apply this explanation for the floozy who thinks, "gee, the old coot will kick it soon anyway"). The second one is naive and misguided, but at least it takes the view that marriage is really something for life (if only every little circumstance is perfect and no little snag comes up at all. ever. Hah!).

I really cannot imagine what Mr. Schiavo's current fling is thinking, but I don't understand it either in the many cases of Mr. Successfulbusinessman who lets his wife raise his children and then goes and "marries" young Miss Peroxide. Does she think that her looks and novelty will be forever? Does she think that the man has changed? I don't understand how the friends of the family are at all surprised when the kids turn to dope and cults, either (of course I have known perfectly sound families that still had a child turn to dope and cults. Such is the way of original sin).

It seems that in either the extreme or the all too normal situation, the problem lies in viewing human beings as things with uses. Everyone knows that things get discarded when they no are no longer useful.

Humans, on the other hand, are worth more than that.

Nasty, Brutish and To The Point!

As of this moment I have a new official motto:

Nasty, Brutish and To The Point.

I am certainly not short, so this is the best way for me to fit into one of my favorite lines.

There are very few times that I do not love being not short. I like being able to stand in the back and still see. I like being able to reach things without asking for a tall person to help. I like grinning benevolently at all the little people who always seem to be swarming around me (family reunions with the Italian side of the family are particularly fun, because my Italian relatives are short and loud which means I have this constant noise coming up from the ground).

And, let's face it. If I were anything less than, say 5' 10" I would be one of those insufferable short people who are constantly trying to take over neighboring countries. Most of the short people I know are not like that, but that is because they are not me.

You see, some of us have to have plenty of room for our egos. If we did not have enough room in our bodies, then they spill out all over Poland or Austria or Ethiopia and that gets messy, and you have to call out armies and then you have to pay for Marshall plans and then I would have to go live on some island, and you all know what I think of islands.

Crazy places, islands. Full of savages and nasty storms. I could probably handle the Azores or Bora Bora or some island like that, but they don't exile you to places like that. With my luck I would end up in Sicily, which would be just too depressing for words, mainly because that last clause would become "whuch wuuld bbu tuu diprussun' furi wuurdo" and there is no way I would ever understand what people are talking about. Vowels do funny things on islands.

So, I give thanks that I am not a short person (although in elementary school French class I chose Napoleon for my French name), and, thus cannot be called "Nasty, Brutish and Short."

So, there you have it: Nasty, Brutish and To The Point.

Of course after this last post you might doubt the "to the point" part, but the nasty and brutish part will ensure that you will not dare say that to my face.

"Wha? Not to the point? Well, perhaps a castor oil cocktail will make you see the point!"

Anyway, thanks to Don at Mixolydian Mode. This will keep me grinning like an idiot for a week!

Art Show Review

Yesterday we went to see the "Bonjour Monsieur Corbet" show at the Legion of Honor.

It was a beautiful day, with sparkling blue skies and all that. We drove up to the Palace and noticed the steam cleaning truck blocking the entryway. I thought that the museum was closed Tuesdays. It wasn't. It was closed yesterday.

So, you will have to wait for a review. Of course this means that I will not get to it until Thursday, so by the time you read the review you will have exactly one and a half days to get to the show. Sorry.

Happy Easter!

Happy Easter everyone!

Go to mass, even if you went tonight.

Eat:

1. Antipasti of goat cheese with finely chopped green garlic tops, salami, and olives
2. Green garlic soup
3. Balsamico pasta with fresh peas and pancetta
4. Roasted fennel and leeks
5. Roasted leg of lamb with a mustard-herb crust
6. Spring green salad with toasted pine nuts
7. Colomba, fresh strawberries and creme chantilly
8. Espresso

Accompany it all with good wine and finish with homemade limoncello.

If you need any recipes, holler.

Thank God for every morsel, every taste, every bite. And share with friends, enemies (excepting the complete turds among your enemies. Christ says to love them, not necessarily to like them, and sharing a meal with those you really don't like can be more than the average mortal can endure), family, and strangers.

Christ Is Risen!
Christ Is Risen!
Christ Is Risen!

From the Florida State Song...

Ez a Kékszakállú vára!
Nincsen ablak?
Nincsen erkély?

An Open Memo to Mr. Schiavo's Concubine

So, what happens when Mike is tired of you?

Sleep well at nights?

First, for some levity...

A search engine request that brought someone to Erik's Rants and Recipes:

Where to buy cyanide

What? Are you looking for a career in Florida law?

Another:

Simple Rube Goldberg Designs

Hah! I suppose the next person will want austere baroque churches!

"Conservatives"

Thanks to the Summamamas, I read this article on how so-called "conservatives" and evangelical (we must assume Protties here) are opposed to government intervention in the state-ordered murder of Terri Schiavo (on a side note, I am insisting on the proper Italian pronunciation of Schiavo: "skee-ah-vo", as Mr. Schiavo has proven that he cannot be trusted in any matters whatsoever, let alone the pronunciation of the Italian language).

I have to say that I am not surprised one iota. These are the people who were opposed to government intervention in the case of slavery, fer cryin' out loud. What do you expect? They holler for "states' rights" when their states don't do their own part in upholding basic human rights, and I have no use for their blather.

The Subsidiarity argument fails here for the same reason: Florida has failed to protect the life of one of its weakest citizens, and has thus abdicated its rights in the matter. The Federal Government must take decisive action, keeping in mind that the courts do not have police powers.

If the Federal government fails, perhaps Fidel Castro has some crack troops to send in.

What. You are laughing? Fidel Castro protecting innocent life in the United States?

Think of Terri Schiavo next time you get all gung-ho on bringing democracy and free markets, I mean, life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to some hapless savages in the far flung corners of the world.

Because if Terri Schiavo dies in her starvation bunker, the last vestige of credibilty for our legal system vanishes (not to mention the last vestige of credibilty for Republican pro-life credentials).

UPDATED TO ADD:

Here, go read this story (and take a look at the picture). This lad was arrested for trying to bring a glass of water to Mrs. Schiavo. It seems that Judge Mengele Greer has ordered that Mrs. Schiavo not be offered any food or drink orally, either.

Because, you know how eating and drinking are really extraordinary life support systems...

I am thinking about officially boycotting Florida, but it would be pretty useless. As a loyal Californian I already would rather eat wheat bran than allow the juice of a Commie, East Coast orange to touch my lips.

I just got my annual summons to Jury Service. I normally get sent home immediately after I tell them what I think of our justice system. I bet I set a new record this year.

Drip, drip, drip

It is raining again. It was raining in Phoenix. It is raining here. I like the rain, especially strong, wind-driven rain like we are having right now. Driving in this sort of weather, that is another story, but sitting inside listening to it outside, beautiful.

I will be posting more later, when I am wider awake than I am now. The house was successfully tented and bombarded with Vikane, and tomorrow we bring back the rest of our food (pizza tonight). I like pizza, but I really wanted pasta tonight. Homemade pasta with clams and cream and saffron and a shot of pastis. But it was not meant to be. Can't complain about pizza though.

So, expect some post on art soon. And expect my Easter menu to be posted soon. Also, I have a nice little Easter surprise for all of my loyal readers. Also, I will talk about the college drinking culture, something that was entirely different among my friends at UC Santa Cruz than it seems to be in Tempe. I might talk about the Irish and drinking Guiness (or not drinking Guiness if it means going to an Irish pub in a party-school town on St. Pat's). I will probably write about desert flora, and perhaps a bit about desert fauna (no, Amalia doesn't count, although she did seem to fancy herself as a wild animal for our excursion to the Phoenix Zoo). This is all a hypothetical list. If I get to two of these topics before the Triduum, then I will be doing OK.

I will not talk about baseball, though, because I really do not think that I have any more insight on the season now than I did before going on the spring training trip. You see a game where the manager is testing his players in this or that situation, and it really does not make for an accurate forecast. I will say that if I were a player on the A's, I would think that the team's training facility is as close to paradise as you can get on Earth. Stunning.

As to the political topic on everyone's mind:

Mr. Bush. You have an army at your command, not to mention a "moral mandate." The courts do not. While Judge Tweedle Dee sits and thinks and wonders about case law an innocent woman is being murdered by her husband. This is a life and death case, and the American people will back you. And if they don't, so what? Congress will (at least you will never be impeached for taking decisive action now).

I will not be so cynical as to suggest that the whole thing is a Republican set-up to once again betray the pro-life movement, but now is the time for action, not words. If Terri Schiavo dies of starvation and dehydration, it will be time for the pro-life credentials of the Republican Party to be pulled.

Surely, what you have done for the Shiites of Iraq is not too good to do for one of your own citizens?

As for the courts: remember the words of President Jackson. "The Supreme Court has made its decision. Now let them enforce it."

Strawberry Margaritas

I can't believe I am doing this.

Pink food. You must have caught me in an exceptionally good mood.

Start with a strawberry limeade (the other night Melanie, who was the real brains behind this recipe, used Trader Joe's strawberry lemonade): puree strawberries with lime juice and simple syrup (or sugar) to taste.

3 (or 4 or more, to taste) parts strawberry limeade
2 parts 100% blue agave tequila (silver is best for margaritas, but I usually have reposado around, because I prefer that for straight tequila drinking, so we used that. DO NOT use bad tequila (Cuervo Gold and the like), only real 100% blue agave.
1 part orange liqueur. Sometimes I use triple sec, recently we have been using Patron Citronage. Once I was out of all else so I had to use Grand Marnier. It was interesting, but not so interesting as to merit the expense of Grand Marnier, which is best shown off in the sauce for my chocolate souffle)

Shake over ice and serve up in chilled glasses garnished with a sliced fresh strawberry, a slice of lime and salted rims.

If you all want recipes for Cosmopolitans, though, you will have to bark up a different tree.

Anyway, I have spent too much time online just doing this recipe. I have another recipe request in the combox (note to Felicia: I am not the family baker, so I will have to consult with Melanie and/or my cookbook library), but there is no way I can get to it until I get back Sunday night (and the Lepanto League meeting might make much writing on here pretty light until Monday).

Also, for pink food, the topping of tiramisu di tonno (tuna tiramisu) is pink. Search the archives for that recipe. It might sound weird, but it is the best recipe I have ever created. I will try to think of more as I lounge by the pool and watch baseball in the Arizona sun, I mean, work hard this weekend. As in hardy har har!

So, have a good weekend everybody! Go A's!

Uh oh, the baton was passed my way!

You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451. Which book do you want to be?

Dante's Divine Comedy

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

I don't think so.

The last book you bought was...?

A history of brass and woodwind instruments by Adam Karse

The last book you read was...?

Inferno by Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle

What are you currently reading?

The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce (it is the next discussion book for the Lepanto League's look at the literature of Catholic Bad Boys.

-AND-

The Bed of Sphinxes by Philip Lamantia

Five books you would take to a desert island...

1. The Divine Comedy by Dante
2. Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes
3. At Play in the Fields of the Lord by Peter Matthiessen
4. The Bible not sure which version
5. The Oxford Complete Shakespeare

What three people are you passing this stick on to and why?

Old Oligarch, because his list is sure to be interesting.

Don at Mixolydian Mode, because he strikes me as being less likely than I am to have a crush on a fictional character, and I would be curious to see if I am correct!

Gregg the Obscure, because I am glad that he is back blogging and want to give him some more material to think about and to write about.

Ah yes! Pink Mochi...

So, the main point of that last post was to talk about pink mochi, which I happen to be eating at this very moment.

Sometimes people ask me what pink mochi is and why my site is hosted on pinkmochi.com.

First things first.

Mochi is a yummy rice paste that is used in Asian cooking. My favorite way to eat mochi is stuffed with sweetened red bean paste, then fried and coated with sesame seeds. You can buy little balls of this stuff in Chinatown for about 3 for a dollar. To make mochi pink, add some red food coloring.

The pink mochi that I am eating. Correction. Ate. Just finished it. Yum. The pink mochi that I just ate was part of a strawberry mochi ice cream treat. You can find them at Trader Joe's, and they are good. Very good. Too good for your own good, really.

Now as to why this site is part of the pinkmochi empire is because my friend Ann, who comes up with great names like pinkmochi and great designs like the one for this site, is hosting it. Her actual web design site is quite pink, so it makes more sense. I have no idea why she called it pinkmochi, except that she is the one who turned me on to mochi ice cream, so I assume that she is quite the mochi fan. Pink? Well, Ann is into all of that Hello Kitty stuff, so it just fits.

If it were my webdesign company and I were naming it after mochi I would probably have called it palegraymochistuffedwithsweetenedredbeanpasteandfriedthencoveredwithsesameseeds.com. Now you can see why I do not have a web design company.

Pink Recipes

I have had some folks find this blog looking for "pink recipes."

Now, there are several ways to take this:

1. Recipes that feature the color pink, for instance, grapefruit granita.

2. (really 1a.) Recipes for medium rare meat.

3. Recipes that are slightly left leaning, but not so left leaning as to be called "red recipes." An example would be Healthy Choice premade meals.

4. Recipes that are improper for men: for instance, a Cosmopolitan.

Now, if you are looking for number one or two, I am happy to help. Number three is not really my thing, and for number 4, you have to go somewhere else completely.

Spam with cheese...

The text of a recent comment hawking drugs:

I do like this blog a lot. thanks for keeping all the spammers off it.

No problem. Bye!

It is time, once again, to throw back our heads and let out one of those great lunatic laughs...

We are going on a trip this weekend, and I have been laboring under the delusion that our flight left at 8am on Thursday morning, which would mean being at the airport around 6am to park and check luggage and all of that. Since we only live 15 minutes from the airport, that is not that big a deal. Pack the car before going to bed, etc. (complicated by the fact that our house is being fumigated while we are away, so we have to remove all food and plants tomorrow), which is a hassle, but really not that bad. Right?

I can get up at 5:30. No problem. I used to do that on a daily basis to do my swim workout.

Well, today I looked at our itenerary and the flight leaves at 6:10! Is it even legal for planes to fly that early? Does this mean that we have to be at the airport by 4:30?!? Awake at 4, then? Do I bother to go to bed? Well, since we won't be getting to the hotel until the afternoon, I suppose I should, lest I fall asleep at one of the events we need to be at.

Anyway, I am not really complaining, because I really like that time of night/morning (and not just because of the happy memories of fishing trips that began at hours like that). The air always feels a little charged, while the darkness feels particularly thick. The roads are eerily empty, and the folks that you see out are all out for a good reason.

I remember when I used to travel with a band and we would see some interesting stuff at those hours (some weekends we would have a Friday gig in Sacramento, then a Saturday gig in LA, then would have to get back north on Sunday to be in the studio. You end up driving at strange hours).

Flying at the crack of dawn is exciting, too, especially in the desert. If my calculations are correct, we should get some striking light over the Salton Sea, which is one of the most fascinating things out there.

I will plan on sleeping, because we have a non-stop day scheduled from the minute we land until bed, but the temptation to keep my sketchbook out might just be too much to resist.

And, yes, take this as a warning that blogging might be light to nonexistant until Monday. I will try to post some little tidbits on Lauda Sion, Pange Lingua, or salt-cod and ceci cakes served with horseradish aioli (yes there is a story behind this one), but packing up all the food, carting our houseplants to Melanie's office, etc., might leave me with no time before we go.

Eucharistic Poetry

This evening (Tuesday) I will be giving a presentation on the Eucharistic Poetry of St. Thomas Aquinas at the National Shrine of St. Francis of Assisi on Vallejo between Grant and Columbus in North Beach, San Francisco. The talk will begin at 7:15 and will focus on Lauda Sion, the sequence for the Solemnity of Corpus Christi and Pange Linga, the hymn that will be sung on both Corpus Christi as well as when the Eucharist is removed at the Mass of the Lord's Supper on Holy Thursday.

The talk is free and should last about an hour, depending on the enthusiasm of the question and answer section. So if you are in the Bay Area and want to sing some beautiful plainsong and hear a little bit about a side of St. Thomas Aquinas that is not as well known as his prose work, be sure to come!

Philip Lamantia 1927 - 2005

Please pray for the soul of Philip Lamantia.

I have been avoiding writing about this sad news, because I had only heard about it second hand. While there is just about nothing worse for a journalist than running a retraction of an obituary, when the obituary is of a friend, you really would rather face the journalistic egg on the face than have the rumor turn out to be true.

However, I read the Chronicle obit, found here, and want to offer some personal reflections on the passing of a friend.

Of course Philip always held himself at arm's length from the title "Beat Poet." If he was proud of literary ties, it was his ties to Andre Breton and the surrealists. Sure, he still kept in touch with fellow Beats, but he had a more detached view of the whole thing.

I had seen this fellow at mass all the time. He had a friendly face with almost a Russian look. He helped take collection at daily mass, and always said "hello" when I saw him in front of the church or in a local caffe. I had no idea who he was until I was working the door at a church event, checking off the people who had prepaid for the dinner. This fellow who I had seen many times announced his name, as if it were just another Sicilian name that he would probably have to spell, and I was stunned. Philip Lamantia. One of my favorite poets of the Beat Generation. Wow!

For the first time I talked to him. Later in the evening Melanie was talking to him and let it slip that he was one of my favorite poets. "Oh, my. He doesn't really have very high standards, does he?" grumbled Philip. Just about every Sunday after that we would have lunch with Philip, followed by coffee. It turned out that he was a bit of a fan of bullfighting, although he had not been in years, so Philip became one of my bullfighting buddies, driving off to remote parts of the Central Valley to watch bulls and to eat pork (one of Philip's many charming eccentricities was the fact that he would not eat beef for fear of mad cow disease).

Philip, as noted in the Chronicle obit, was a great conversationalist. Somehow a mid-afternoon espresso would morph into a walk around North Beach, a quick bite, then, several hours after the first, "I should probably be heading back home" another round of espresso. Sometimes we would return from the bullfights at 1am and Philip would insist that I have a last cup of coffee so that the conversation (on anything from music to birdwatching to art to alchemy (a favorite topic) to San Francisco politics) could continue.

A mutual friend once described Philip as a "temporal vampire," telling me, "we were up til three am, and I had to teach today!" That is the way it was. Post-mass lunch could wind up in the middle of the night, without you even realizing it. Phone calls could last for hours, and even when he left a message on the machine, it seemed to stretch the capacity of the circuitry.

Being a Sicilian, Philip had a stubborn streak. I remember one conversation on color theory where he was ASTOUNDED that I said that Goethe's color theories were wrong. Eventually I got a concession, but with an escape clause having to do with alchemy.

Unfortunately Philip suffered from severe bipolar disorder. Lows could last for years, and were miserably low. Around the middle to end of the summer of 2001 he could tell that another low period was on the horizon. After mass he would head straight home. Then September 11 hit, and the low period set in with a vengeance.

The last time we saw Philip was the beginning of 2002. The nature of his depression was such that being around friends was the hardest thing he could do. "Mass is nearly unbearable," he said, almost in tears, "because who could possibly be a better friend than Jesus? Pray for me."

Once in a while neighbors would see Philip in a quick trip to the grocery store, and he always managed a quick and friendly "hello" but would not linger and would not say much.

We got the news of his passing from one of the friars, who had only heard second hand. There was nothing in the papers until Friday's obit. Part of me hoped that the news was wrong, that it was merely some Beatnik groupie who misheard something at City Lights.

The last thing that he published, besides Bed of Sphinxes: New and Selected Poems 1943 - 1993 were two poems that appeared in Communio as well as in Jubilation, a compilation of New Catholic Poetry edited by Stephen Ronan. "Ultimate Zone" was written on the Memorial of St. Pius X and is addressed to Pope John Paul II.

"You know," said Philip over one of countless cups of espresso, "I am pretty sure that the Holy Father reads Communio. I wonder what he thought of that poem."

Ultimate Zone

"the most modern European is you Pope Pius X"
Guillaume Apollinaire: Zone

Also around 1910 Apollinaire wrote: "The new spirit
which will dominate the poetry of the entire world
has nowhere come to light as it has in France."

It can not be said that you Pope John Paul II are the epitome of
post-modernism
since for two decades you have been one of its most responsible
critics
Now after so many changes so many revolutions so many
end worlds
poetry itself pronounced dead in these disunited states
whileyou head of the quanitatively greatest of world religions
travel this world as its supreme nonconformist
announcing humanity's ultimate terrestrial hope
"the civilization of love"
silently gathering a serene somehow possible/impossible
miracle
to overcome "the culture of death"
I imagine the cosmic heart of Omega point
breaking against the cutting edge of all pseudo-paradises
whoe technoscience conducts hedonic/euthanist man-un-kind
to some final evil nihil
garbage chemistry/morbid physics
and on to the latest insane project
the slavocracy of biogenic clones
demons from the petri dish
recklessly to shore up a pseudo-future
at the service of high-tech information machines
maintaining progreammed nihilism in continuous global progression
against all possible/impossible resistance
sure to rise from the least heart of humanity against
the rule of mechanical phallus
invisible central transhumanic idol
perceived on altars of neopagan death.

The Alcohol Knowledge Test

Via Eve Tushnet:

Bacardi 151 Congratulations! You're 134 proof, with specific scores in beer (80) , wine (100), and liquor (121).

All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient.

Friday Feast (a day late)

Friday's Feast

From The Summamamas via Sotto, sotto, from Friday's Feast website!

Appetizer - Where do you go when you want to relax?

Caffe Greco in North Beach.

Soup - Tell about something that made you laugh this week.

There were these three guys who walked into a bar... and the many other jokes told by my friends late Wednesday night at Ocean Beach as we watched the storm waves crashing into the sand.

Salad - What is your favorite texture?

Right now it is meat.

Main Course - If you were to publish your autobiography, what would the first sentence be?

I never write the first sentence first. The lede must be the last thing I write, even after the first few edits.

Dessert - Do you celebrate St. Patrick's Day? If so, how?

Sort of. I drink Irish stout, eat corned beef and cabbage, listen to the Pogues, avoid overcrowded Irish pubs like the plague.

More on Body Burden Story

One thing that I forgot to mention in the post about ANG's upcoming "Body Burdens" story is that it is a three part series, running on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.

Also, my concerns about whether or not this story was going to be a propaganda piece for the California Body Burdens Campaign were brought up to the editor, who has assured my inside sources that the piece is going to be balanced, not just a panic piece about "chemicals."

I have not read it yet, but can't wait.

Just today I encountered another bit of "chemical" paranoia. It makes me think of the oldest people in just about any old printshop: the linotype guys. It always struck me as funny that the fellows in the industry who seemed to live the longest were the guys who played with pots of molten lead all day long (and this back in the days when safety concerns were much lower than today).

Watch this become the next fad: lead as longevity enhancement. Perhaps it had something to do with the potato (inside remark. For those of you who never experienced linotype, there was a practice of tossing a chunk of potato into the pots of lead. It was supposed to remove the impurities from the used slugs. I have no idea how it did this, but potatoes were always a part of the typesetting arsenal).

I really do miss the days of hot type. Those machines were magnificent. They were loud and had a bit of the Rube Goldberg look to them. My godfather made a recording of a linotype in operation. Last time I was at his place in Fiddletown, we sat sipping port and listening to it with the intensity that is normally reserved for The Art of the Fugue. Beautiful stuff.

Chemicals

The Oakland Tribune is doing an interesting piece on accumulated chemicals in our bodies. It will run this Sunday (also in the Argus, the Daily Review, the Alameda Times Star, the San Mateo County Times, the Tri-Valley Herald) in the Trib. Basically the author has been following a typical East Bay family and has found some surprises in the chemicals in these people.

There has been quite a buzz about the story and it should be quite interesting. I am pretty confident that the writer has dug deeper than simply repeating what he read in the California Body Burden Campaign's press releases.

You can even go to Inside the Bay Area to take the test (then come back). Of course this version does not really test your blood and all that, but uses statistical means to determine how much stuff you are carrying around in you.

This is an issue that is difficult for the public, because on the one hand it deals with measurable science: yes, indeed, this person or that person has X amount of this or that chemical in his body.

But on the other hand, even words like "chemicals" are fraught with emotional charging.

One thing that drives me absolutely batty is the use of the word "chemicals" as some sort of currency for an immediate reaction. There really are folks who think that all "chemicals" are ghastly acids that ought to be kept in stored vaults or else some hapless child will stumble on them and immediately turn into a Republican or something else.

Going beyond the notion of chemicals as being inherently terrifying, we run up to the notion that somehow synthetic chemicals are the bad ones, because we all know that natural means good, right?

Oh, sorry, I wasn't listening. Sucking on a hemlock stock. What was that?

Ah, yes, natural is good. Synthetic is bad. Fine, just as long as you don't make me ingest any chemicals.

But seriously, scientific illiteracy is rampant in this country. Talk to someone about DDT and they start throwing out vaguely remembered statistics that actually were about lead anyway.

Now, in spite of my general cynicism towards Naderites and their ilk, I am aware of the dangers of certain accumulating compounds. As a painter I have to be very aware of this, because I use a lot of lead, cadmium, and various toxins that make lovely greens and have cyanide, aresenic and copper compounds in them (for those of you wondering, lead paint is still available for artists, just not for house paints), not to mention various solvents, synthetic and natural resins, solders, glues, inks, dyes, and oils. Add to the fact that I use these things around heat and power tools (including such things as using a router on finished wood and the like), and it comes down to a pretty significant exposure.

Artists' materials have been pretty well studied. We know which metals are the dangerous ones, which solvents are neurotoxins in which concentrations, etc. (OK, peanut gallery, I'm waiting). So far I have not had any symptoms, at least any of the short term symptoms, but I tend to be careful. You have to be when you use some of the stuff I use.

When we get into the topic of household chemicals, the jury is out. The way to find out is to measure and observe, but there is a problem. There is a significant malicious bunch of folks out there who have an agenda (and a not very hidden one, really), and they know that all they have to do is throw around some buzzwords and the scientifically illiterates will climb over each other to bring in new regulations and to ban new things (hydrogen hydroxide anyone?).

They take advantage of the fact that people really don't know what dosage means, so they say, "look, seventy percent of all toddlers have measurable amounts of X in their system." We are supposed to panic, to climb over ourselves worrying about the X that is leaching into the water table, even as we speak! Especially if X is something that we have heard of in some negative context (often in the form of a totally different compound, but to the chemically inept, that means little).

Sure, there may be some long term consequences to the accumulation of fire retardant in our bodies (although it could come in useful for many folks later on), and, quite frankly I would not be surprised if we found some pretty nasty connections between some compounds and some diseases. I would also not be surprised if those connections were between naturally occuring compounds and said diseases. Furthermore, I would not be surprised if the connections were revised several times.

Human life is complex. We live in a land that is powered by a gigantic hydrogen-bomb reactor, a world full of stuff that will kill us. We take some of that stuff and make it into other stuff. And then that stuff is mixed with still more stuff and then taken to different environments and so forth and so on. The control part of the experiment gets trickier and trickier to manage. Unfortunately scientists are subject to the same hubris as psychologists, so pronouncements are made that have to later be retracted, revised, or taken out back and shot.

So, while we certainly should be measuring and studying this stuff, the way is fraught with wolves in sheeps' clothing who have already come to the conclusions that they want (second hand smoke, anyone? How about DDT? Oh, you are too busy suffering from malaria to think about this stuff? Hug a liberal. When West Nile Virus reaches epidemic proportions in California's Central Valley this summer, hug a liberal).

Expect more from me on this topic, as I predict that it is going to be the tobacco-battle of the next ten years.

Robert Bechtle at SFMOMA, SECA, and so on and so forth.

Yesterday Amalia and I met a friend and paid a visit to SFMOMA for my first viewing of the Bechtle retrospective. I am WAAAAAAYYYYY to busy to give a detailed review, but here are my quick impressions:

1. Forget the theory. Bechtle is a Californian painter who is basically doing the same thing as Thiebaud and Diebenkorn, which is capturing the light and physical topography of the region, as Cezanne did in his. However, this only applies to when Bechtle's works work. The other thing that Bechtle does in all of his good works is to create mood. More on this later.

2. When Bechtle falls flat, read the theory. When the theory of photorealism wins, the art loses. If you cannot improve on the snapshot, why waste my time and a lot of canvas?

3. Bechtle is at his weakest when painting automobiles or outdoor snapshots of people.

4. Bechtle is at his best when he lets the mood of the place come through, particularly in his interior spaces. He is also quite good at painting streets, so long as he doesn't get all hung up on automobiles.

5. Bechtle's works on paper are fantastic. Much better than his works on canvas. He does stuff with charcoal that is breathtaking. Note that I have not yet gone to the Crown Point Press exhibit.

For more on Bechtle, read what Tyler Green has to say or what Anna L. Conti has to say (she really has a thorough look at these, including some images).

As for SECA, I was pleasantly surprised. I did not get to spend the time that I wanted, because Amalia was asleep in the stroller, and I wanted to keep her that way for another half hour, at least, which means that the stroller cannot stop too long. I will try to get back next week to take a closer look.

And, finally, the power of the critic: awhile back Tyler Green pointed out that SFMOMA neglected to have ONE painting by Wayne Thiebaud in its second floor rehang. I was ashamed to admit that I had not noticed, particularly since Thiebaud is one of my biggest influences (and a fellow Sacramentan). Well, someone at SFMOMA must read Mr. Green, because they had a lovely Thiebaud delta painting up.

I can't remember what was in the spot before. I am afraid that it was another Diebenkorn, though. Too bad. They should have removed (and sold) a Warhol.

Why Women Can't Cook and How Stinging Nettles Can Help That

I should probably subtitle this "Why Men Can't Cook Either," because the flip side of saying that (most) women can't cook is NOT that (most) men can. The sad fact is that most people can't cook to save their lives.

Now, I know some optimistic sorts who say, "well, if they can heat up a hotdog, why, they are cooking!"

Nope.

Cooking, to mean anything, must involve the transformation of raw ingredients into satisfactory edibles.

Cooking prowess can be divided into stages:

1. Following exact directions with a basic command of culinary technique.

2. Modifying existing recipes based on experience with a variety of ingredients.

3. Creating brand new recipes.

4. Improvising brand new recipes.

5. Total culinary virtuosity: improvising brand new recipes with improbable ingredients (if you have read Tony Bourdain, foie gras with a Starburst candy reduction should immediately come to mind).

Now, the reason that most people cannot cook is that they have no interest in it. Fair enough. I have little interest in matters of cloth. It was a milestone for me to be able to sew on a button. Therefore I don't do it. I don't have to do it. Melanie is much more skilled at this stuff, and if the project baffles her, her Grandma Helen can fix just about anything. And, as those who know me can testify, I am not above wearing clothing that should have been given burial at sea years ago.

So, I have never really had a need to learn to wield needle and thread, and, until I do, I will never get to step one.

However, all men must eat, and few men can afford (or should want to) eat at restaurants three times a day. Women often get the job of cooking out of default, and they do the best they can, which is about as good as a sewing project of mine is.

Men will simply not bother, figuring that if the Chinese can live off of Chinese food, why, so can they. And at $1.50 for a good tub of chow mein, who can blame them? But women will try to do it, even if they are not good at it.

Which brings us to the problem of armies of bad cooks in dresses.

But you press on, you read recipes, you learn to fold and dice and so on, and you get about seven dishes down, and, with one day a week eating out and one day a week getting someone else to make one meal, the family can eat reasonably well.

This is a recipe for getting more and more bored with cooking, and starting to resent the whole thing (unless you can cultivate a proper sense of duty, which can overcome a lot of boredom).

However, in cooking, duty is second best. The best is to learn to love the adventure of combining ingredients, to get to step four (let's face it, few will ever become virtuosi, and how often do you find yourself with only foie gras and Starburst Fruit Chews anyway?).

I have been thinking about how to instill the love of raw ingredients in people who are not by nature foodies, but would like to see cooking as something other than a chore. My first inclination is to suggest shopping at farmers' markets, but there is a problem with that. First, it does not take long to run into the initiated elite at the farmers' markets, especially in areas like the Bay Area, and that is intimidating. You don't want to cheerfully explain a modest discovery you have made to a co-patron only to find that you have been instructing the head buyer for Chez Panisse how to make a turnip puree.

It is not that the initiated elite foodie will be necessarily rude, but often foodies are on a mission and may be short (I generally try to be as helpful as possible when encountering the weekly, "what is that and what are you going to do with it?" which is a question that can be a lot of fun to answer, unless I see said Chez Panisse buyer moving towards a favorite vendor, knowing full well that we will be after the same ingredient).

Also, farmers' markets can attract hippies, and hippies smell of patchouli, which is definitely off-putting.

So, my advice to those wanting to move to the next level of cooking (and to have some fun at it, too) is to forage. First, you get to learn some botany, which is a blast. Second, nothing is quite as satisfying as miners' lettuce salad that you picked yourself in the woods. Third, it is free. And I like free.

So, with that in mind, and having been in the woods recently, let me introduce the theme for the week: stinging nettles.

Stinging nettles, as their name implies, sting on contact. They have little micro-thorns (that are more like hairs) that are armed with formic acid. The micro-thorn gets under the skin and delivers a nasty, albeit short-lived sting. The good thing is that the sting goes away when the nettles are plunged into boiling water. Just a minute and the sting is gone.

So, don some gloves, bring a bag and some clippers and head to the woods!

Plunge those babies in boiling water and start to get a feel for their taste, their texture, their smell.

Then, make a simple risotto:

1. Heat 2 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil with 2 Tbls butter and 2 Tbls goose fat (or just do 3 and 3 with the butter and olive oil).

2. Gently fry 3 oz of pancetta and two peeled garlic cloves.

3. Fry a finely diced onion (or large shallot) for a minute or two.

4. Add a finely diced carrot and a finely diced stalk of celery. Fry gently for a couple of minutes.

5. Add two cups of arborio rice and stir until the grains look pearlized.

6. Add a cup of dry white vermouth and cook down until the moisture is out.

7. Add ladlesful of hot broth, keeping the level of the liquid above the rice, until the rice is al dente.

8. Just before the rice is done, add the nettles. Warm them through.

9. Finish with 2 or 3 more tablespoons of butter, salt, pepper, and pecorino romano cheese.

10. Serve with fresh shavings of pecorino romano and a light young red wine.

Next up: nettle frittata!

Bob Wills at 100

Can you believe that I beat them to this one?

Of course we have a claim to Western Swing legend Bob Wills almost as much as Texas.

From 1943 to 1949 the Texas Playboys were in California, first in Santa Monica and Fresno, then the Wills Point Ballroom near Sacramento. After that he moved on to Oklahoma City.

But Bob Wills' California connection does not end there. In 1971 Oildale's own Merle Haggard reunited the Texas Playboys and was responsible for "For the Last Time" recording session.

Of course, the truth be told, Bob Wills was one of those people who brought a little bit of Texas with him wherever he was.

So, in honor of today, his 100th Birthday, let's hear a loud "EeeeehYAWWWW!"

DeSpamization

I recently ran into a problem with MT Blacklist. It would not take any new entries. I emailed my designer, who dug around and found that there is a maximum number of entries on the blacklist (around 3900). So, for those of you using MT-Blacklist, you might want to check your housekeeping and be sure to get rid of things that are covered already (for instance, no need to have commies.jerks.org if you already have jerks.org). Since the stupid thing would not let me check off the offenders and delete them en masse, I had to take a long time to pick out each individual one. So far I am halfway through the "b's."

Now, to be more efficient in my Blacklist utilization, I added some a-bomb type strings, for instance, ".info" and ".us" since I have never found a real domain worth going to with either of those. Unfortunately I need to learn some syntax, because it seems to have attacked anything that has "us" in it, which was certainly not my intent. For example, "music" gets nixed. So I dropped ".us" but there might be some other strings that I did not drop, so if your comment gets rejected for something seemingly innocuous, please drop me a line at EKeilholtz [at] aol [dot] com.

Speaking of which, I got the following comment, but it seems to have been zapped, which is too bad, as it is a rather thoughtful one. Obviously, I think that the commenter has some errors in his thinking, but there is something of a grain of truth in it. He (or she, I don't know) was commenting on my post on the problems of canonizing the deceased at funerals:

Agree completely with Erik. Modern Catholic funerals (not Requiem Masses any more, mind you, but "Masses of Christian Burial") have become pretty much a testimonial, show-and-tell and gabfest about the deceased, rather than a genuine opportunity for mourning and grief before burying the dead, commending their souls to God and moving on with our lives. Anyone who has ever lost someone close knows that the real, bone-numbing grief goes on for a significant period -- sometimes years. Only with the passage of time do we come to balance our sense of loss -- and sometimes anger -- with a reasuring sense of satisfaction and completion over the endearing and enduring memories we have of the deceased loved one. But today's Catholic funerals try to make everyone recall jolly incidents about "good old Joe" and enjoy several good rounds of laughter at his expense just days after losing him. This is forced, unnatural and contributes to our frustration at the lack of being able to genuinely grieve without looking like a party pooper or a weak person emotionally. This is completely foreign to the centuries-long purpose of Catholic Requiems. If one goes to a grief counselor after a loss, no such trained person would make one feel bad about breaking down into hysterical sobbing, because that is often an important part of the process of overcoming and recovering from grief and loss. But Catholic funerals are now supposed to be times for "celebrating so-and-so's life." There's plenty of time for that once our grieving process starts to heal and we can carry on with a less raw sense of loss. There will be black vestments at my Requiem, and no happy-talk story-telling. They can do that at my wake or at a non-religious memorial service, of those left behind are so inclined. The Catholic hierarchy wonders why they can't enforce their "culture of life" on millions of Catholics, who shun church doctrine on abortion. Maybe it's because the church has abandoned it's own teachi
ngs on what death is all about, and how solemn and dignified an undertaking is a Requiem Mass. If every death is just an opportunity for "celebration" and merriment, how do they think they can get the faithful to take too seriously opposition to abortion and the death penalty. Don't they get it? (That's one of the reasons I'm not a Catholic, in the interests of full disclosure.)

To this commentator, I must point out that the reasons to be Catholic far outweigh the nonsense that one too frequently encounters in the liturgies. I would rather endure a century of hippy-dippy liturgies, guitars and pianos and "On Eagles' Wings" over a minute of beautiful High Anglitic liturgy, even if the High Anglitic liturgy were breathtaking in its grandeur and solemnity.

Yet another game

This is from OGIC.

What are the first five movie quotes that pop into your head? They must be from different movies.

1. "Als das Kind Kind war..." from Wings of Desire

2. "Froderic? Froderic Frankenstien?" from Young Frankenstein

3. "Ever seen a Commie drink a glass of water?" from Dr. Strangelove or How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Bomb

4. "And I was well paid for it" from Casablanca

5. "Sometimes you bite the bar, and sometimes the bar bites you" from The Big Lubowski

Another game

You have seen it going around: you are supposed to list ten things that other bloggers/readers probably have never done.

1. Played the Theremin under the eye (and hands) of its inventor.

2. Have memorized Kurt Schwitters' Ursonate (and will perform it if either paid enough or given enough martinis, although it might be a bit rusty, but only a bit).

2a. Have written a coda (or five, to be preciese) for Kurt Schwitters' Ursonate

3. Performed Lou Harrison's music in front of the composer (singing, on percussion, and on keyboards).

4. Saw the Richard Diebenkorn retrospective at SFMOMA twice a week every week during its entire run.

5. Wrote a play that is a ninety minute long review of itself (it is called First Night Review, and has never been performed. If your company is looking for something so-unedgy-that-it-might-be-edgy-if-only-the-audience-could-stay-awake-for-it and obscure to put on...).

5a. Revised said play two times.

6. Invented Tuna Tiramisu.

6a. Never had uneaten portions of said Tuna Tiramisu returned to kitchen.

7. Lived for a week on nothing but kippered herring, matzos, espresso and beer.

7a. Still like kippered herring, matzos, espresso, and beer.

8. Used to swim in cold water rip currents for the workout it offered.

9. Did molten lead splash sculptures before learning that Richard Serra was already doing things like that.

10. Have made my own headcheese from scratch (and you should have seen the look on Melanie's face when she lifted the lid of my stock pot to see what was in it, only to find the contents looking back at her).

Yippee! Yippeee! Light at the end of the tunnel!

Os toiros!
Os toiros!
Os toiros!

Please remember to double and triple check these listings, as they are notorious for changing at the last minute. Also, this is incomplete, because not all of the festas have reported. During the season I check this every week at least to see what has been moved, what has been added at the last minute, etc.

But, without further ado, may I point you in the direction of The 2005 California Bullfight Season.

Vamos al toros!
See you in Abril!

Orange roughy in green curry

Cut the orange roughy into serving size pieces (I shoot for two or three bites per piece). Dredge them in flour, mixed with salt and pepper.

Fry the pieces in batches in peanut oil in your wok. Remove the pieces and drain on paper towels. When the last batch is done, discard the oil and wipe the wok.

In a little more peanut oil, stir fry sliced onions, chopped garlic and crushed lengths of lemon grass. Add the creamy top of a can of coconut milk and cook for another minute. Then add a spoonful or two of green curry paste (if you buy the stuff from Thailand, watch out as it can be super spicy) and cook for a minute more. Add the rest of the coconut milk, a handful of thinly sliced rounds of lemon grass, and a handful of finely chopped cilantro. When the sauce is simmering, add the fish and simmer together briefly.

Serve over fragrant (jasmine or basmati) rice with ice cold beer or Thai iced tea (the only iced tea I really like).

Serve fried bananas or fresh mango slices over coconut rice pudding for dessert.

A Quick Music Post

I am still swamped, not only by the BIG project, but several smaller projects with lightning fast turnarounds that were dropped in my lap on Monday and Yesterday. They are good projects, but they are time drainers. Boom. There goes an hour. Boom. There goes another hour. Boom. Client is on the phone with a list of last minute changes. Boom. Here comes the rush fee! Boom! There goes another hour.

I have the right espresso-to-blood ratio in my veins, and Amalia is busy "cleaning" her room. Harharhar. Let's see....boom! There goes another hour, lost in the vortex of cleaning the cleaning. But I can't discourage this endevour. It is a step in the right direction, and she sings when she gets distracted from the task, and I can listen to three and a half year olds singing all day long.

Anyway, what I am going to give you today is a fantastic resource. I will post specific parts from it later, with my own two cents, but if you want to start building a classical music library, this is a good place to start. I have not read all of it, but from what I have read it seems pretty good.

So, here is The Classical Music Basic Repertoire List. Poke through it, and if you have any questions on anything or want recommendations between this or that, holler.

Right off the top, I do have one quibble: they could have done much better with Lou Harrison. First, he passed away at least two years ago, so they need to update that. Second, while La Koro Sutro and the Varied Trio and one of the percussion suites are outstanding, I would have added Complete Harpsichord Works, Music for Tack Piano and Pianoforte performed by Linda Burman-Hall (disclosure: Linda was my harpsichord teacher) on New Albion Records, as well as Solstice/Canticle #3, conducted by Dennis Russell Davies on the Musicmasters label.

I also consider Hymnen a far more important work of Stockhausen than Mantra.

Anyway, they are really strong on baroque, even listing the outstanding Jose Antonio Carlos de Seixas, who is about as neglected as Padre Antonio Soler.

So, have fun, listen to good music, etc. etc. etc.

Boom! Another hour gone!

Pink Popcorn

I rediscovered a childhood treat today. At the zoo, I used to get pink popcorn, a block of popcorn with some pink sticky stuff that seemed like deflated cotton candy. They sell it at the Oakland Zoo, so I bought a block for Amalia and I to share. It was as good as I remember.

OK, so it has a slightly stale and fake taste, but it is one of those slightly stale and fake tastes that brings back all sorts of fun memories. Do all zoos sell this stuff? Can you get it anywhere but a zoo?

Padre Antonio Soler

I try to give you lots and lots of original content, but the fact is, I am way too busy to provide anything too grand for awhile. Now, don't fret, as the upside of this is that when I am done, I will be posting the results of what I am working on. I will give you a hint: St. Thomas Aquinas, Gregorian Chant, Eucharist.

Basically the situation is simple: I am giving a talk on the Eucharistic hymns of St. Thomas Aquinas at The National Shrine of St. Francis of Assisi on March 15, 7pm. I am doing a lot of detailed analysis work for it, only a fraction of which will be distilled into the talk. The rest of it will find its way here. Perhaps in bits and pieces, perhaps excessively technical, but it will be here.

In the meanwhile, I will try to give you suggestions of other places to visit to learn about early music, bullfighting, etc. I will also continue to post recipes as I invent them.

So, why not take some time to familiarize yourself with one of my favorite pre-classical harpsichord composers, Padre Antonio Soler? A student of Scarlatti, an inventor as well as composer, I am amazed that this remarkable figure is not better known. So, for all of your introduction to Padre Soler needs, might I point you in the direction of this site? I have not explored it thoroughly yet (will have to wait until after Easter), but what I have read looks good.

Enjoy, and happy harpsichording!