eggbeater

summer in the city. /july.

this is summer in the city.
wanton.
fetid fruit.
salt sweat lick lips
forehead wipe
going commando
sand between toes
watermelon
watermelon
ices, ice melting, sweaty glasses,
one long nap
sheetless sleep
clothesless sleep
mice in the oven
salad for dinner
gazpacho
tomato sandwiches
unbuttoned shirts
ties, despised.

this is summer in the city
teenage sex
drinking on the corner
nights as long as days
days that never end
months that never change.

this is summer in the city
coney island
the boardwalk
raw clams
little paper umbrellas
blow up pools on the sidewalk
unforgiving bodies
every age in every bathing suit
white skin aflame red
black barber shops packed every night
white t shirts
stoop conversations
walking the dog at 3 am.

this is july.

base. bottom. flat.
surely summer even if june didn't put out.
sticky, humid, smoggy, still air, dirty hair,
peeling skin.

JULY.

unapologetic.
no reprieve.
get on the train, get in the car, roll the windows down, flirtatious feet on the dash
show a little skin
let go your inhibitions
steal kisses
rest in the walk in
wrap a towel in ice and feel it drip down your back, breasts
short skirt
stare
catcall
chew gum
play dominoes
salsa music
white sneakers
hidden agendas
take chances
gamble on the unforgiveable
a pinch of this and a slap of that.

summer.

hot as fuck.
hot kitchens.
hot machines.
hot subways.

dogs panting
children passed out in arms, prams, mussed beds.

this is summer in the city
go to the movies
see a film
wear a sweater on the hottest day
in the coldest air conditioning
swim in the ocean
chew ice
fool
you ain't no fool
gooseberry fool
monkey in the middle  tomfoolery.

this is
summer
j u l y
in the city.

sticky pavement
tattoos
reckless
headlights out
bareback
broken glass
hidden in beach sand
dancing in the street
coming out
packing
confident
high heels
sleeveless dress
tank tops
peaches nectarines cherries apricots green herbs
coco helado.

this is summer in the city.
tropical concrete
city pools
city parks
cruising
urban beaches
the ice cream truck
stickball
rollerskates
first love
sleepaway camp
mosquitoes, canoeing, whisper me your friendship
melt me like marshmallows on chocolate
look up at a canopy of trees
focus on the horizon
sleep outside
picnic at the edge of the sea.
fuck me hard
forget me in the morning
leave laces untied
peel a mango back
teeth
face covered in yellow pulp.

july.
gratuitous heat, pie, watermelon seeds, bbq, sea swimming, shave head, ink a needle and push it into skin.

summer.
i hope you get all you can

picnic at the westernmost point, isle of skye, scotland.

all you know is that you want to picnic.


you don't know the land
as it rolls out in front of the car.

you look at the map
of this place you've never been
and you pick up a few nibbles
carrots, flatbread, 'crowdie' a scottish cheese, dark chocolate digestives (he says he can eat too many), blueberries, tangerines, juice. salt & sweet.


all you know
is that you want to eat outside
sit away from the wind
but still in the glorious sun.
you get to the neist point lighthouse. park.
all you can see are cliffs and blue blue sea
land stretches out before you: sharp and steep, rocky and open.


so you walk towards the edge
even though it doesn't look like much
your heart is open
wide open


and what looks like a few boulders
under tufts of grasses
is the place.
and very very carefully,


because the sheer drop is obvious,

you both settle in
completely hidden
embraced by rocks
and unfurl your little picnic
right there
at the edge of scotland.

gorgeous.

summer fruit desserts, in London.

I'm back working in a restaurant after what feels like many years. Moving thousands of miles can do that-- separate you from what you know, and remove the ground from beneath your feet. What was a recent experience can feel far away in lieu of disorientation.

For the last 11 years, the ground beneath my chef feet has been seasonal, local, mostly organic fruit; and my moniker, 'fruit-inspired pastry chef,' has been my guiding force. I have picked fruit, worked for farmers at favorite farmer's markets and eaten my weight in citrus and stone fruit many times over. I said for years anad years that I stayed in California for its gratuitous fruit array.

But here in London, fruit is an afterthought. Besides apples and pears in autumn, and gooseberries, elderflowers and strawberries in summer, which few do better than Britain, fruit comes from very far away and few people know when to buy it at its peak. Most fruit and vegetables are here year round, but flown in from various countries and continents catchers-catch can style, making fruit buying confusing at best.

And because few fruits are grown in British soil, they arrive with a high price tag. Using fruit as a primary focus for a plated dessert, here in London, is a bad idea, cost-wise. But also flavour-wise, because seasonal fruit in South Africa or Spain, or even a country as close as France, is probably not picked and shipped as ripe as one would hope.

All this said, I have found trusted places to buy UK seasonal fruit. And the restaurant I work for is produce-centric and we use an amazing produce purveyor, so I feel infinitely grateful/lucky to have well-chosen product close by.

That said, what desserts are on the horizon?

I'm thinking about tahini, white chocolate, bananas, tamarind, black sesame seeds, grapefruit; Thai coconut soup sorbet; manouri, strawberries & pink peppercorns; gooseberries, mint, rosemary, elderflowers & corn; mango inspired gazpacho; buckwheat & chocolate; brown butter, raw sugar, frangipane & nectarines; young coconut, black rice, caramel. For our retail shop I'm contemplating sandwich cookies, chocolate bouchons, Lamingtons, real graham crackers, verbena profiteroles, tart lemon drizzle cakes, peanut financiers, and rich bread & butter puddings.

Moving to a new place means thinking different. Cooking and baking professionally for a new public means learning about their collective palates and historical connections to food, fruit, baked goods, salt. I can still bring me to the table, but I have to compromise too. I can't move forward: careerwise, dessertwise, bakingwise; if I do not take into consideration new soil, new people, new fruit, new seasons, new pace, new price-point, new retail environment, new attitudes about communication/confrontation, new communication styles, new everything, really.

I look forward to changing styles a bit. While I will always be a fruit-inspired pastry chef, I look forward to thinking differently, in a new way, to meet my new surroundings and continue to grow. One can get too comfortable/ too ghetto-ized/ too smug in one's niche/ geographical area/ style. Stuck.

If nothing else, it should be interesting.

Underground Restaurant by @MsMarmitelover. Kilburn, London 13.06.09

you have been on twitter for a while
but when you move 8000 miles away twitter becomes something else, explodes
suddenly it's like when you first met the internet
everything new, you are innocent and trusting
and go to people's houses
you've never met, in Real Life, before.
Oneday
in the land of
nothingness that is neither working nor vacationing
you get a DM
'hey-- you wanna be a guest chef at my Underground Restaurant?' the person's name is @MsMarmitelover.
you say yes and head to her house
even though you have no idea what train you're on and how to get there.

you both talk about a lot of things.
but what catches your breath is that you speak of one of your most favoritest dishes to make and eat
EGGPLANT PARMESAN
you both agree:
when it's Done Right
it takes all day.
and an idea is born.


you know British strawberries will arrive just before June 13
and you don't know what you'll make for pudding/dessert
but you know it will be All About Those Amazing Strawberries.

while you've never been to or cheffed at an Underground Restaurant, you've done a fair amount of onsite catering and know you can handle it. you don't sweat the small stuff and you can pass on a few restaurant tricks. but it's not about any of that. it's about
COLLABORATION
COMRADERIE
COMMUNITY
ACCESS
REVOLUTION
HOME
HEART
GENEROSITY
delicious food.



to see the menu in it's entirety, photographed by the fabulous @MsMarmitelover, go to her blog The English Can Cook. The craziest thing you'll see is me in a dress in the kitchen !

My favourite lines from her inital post on our dinner:
"Shuna Fish Lydon is a specialist in patisserie and custards. What she doesn't know about eggs is not worth knowing."

*

For the photos I managed to catch between prep, plate-up, keeping tidy and generally taking in the whole scene with my heart and mind, check out my set on Flickr.

~

Underground Restaurants -
putting the u back in Guerilla.

/this is what i want to say about love.

what is the gift?
is the gift loving another or
just loving.
is love a gift at all
or is just
love.
you should ever put just before love
love is bigger than that.

i feel open
i feel broken
i feel naked
i feel am exposed

the gift of love is feeling love
starting from that place
filling you up
where pleasure starts
abdomen meets thighs
it melts me
melts you
light
it's all light
i can't feel my legs
i don't know where i am
but i'm traveling
rocketing -

you're taking me there
{but are you?}
/or is it me?

/this is what i want to say about love
don't be scared of it
sit inside it
even though
it's absolutely terrifying.

i've fallen in love with you and all you want to do is run away
run
get on a plane
disappear
run through the woods
get deep inside
when even a compass can't find your way out
bury you deep

i hold your face inside my hands
and kiss your eyelids
i tell you it will be alright
i place my hands, mouth between your legs
i pleasure you
i feed you delicious food
i take you to where the sky opens up
and swallows us whole
i pull heavy camera to my eye
and you say no.
i tell you your rules are not my rules
i tell you i will never tell.
secret
you are secret
i am your secret.

what is the gift of love.
i feel love
but i never say it
i know it scares you down to your toes
you said this wasn't real.

but you know what?
fuck you and your borders
my heart is mine
my love is mine
my body is mine

/this is what i want to say about love.
it's mine
and mine to give
and you can never forsake it
reject it
give it back
throw it down
break it

Hello love my old friend
Sure is good to see you again

what is the gift?
the gift is love
the gift is a heart
kept malleable
vulnerable, soft, permeable, punctureable
hand me a scalpel,
i'll show you
there
cut there
my heart's been bruised bloodied forgotten discarded dulled
i've sat in the deep waters of grief
i've held the hand of her dying
i've transformed
i've closed up my heart for years at a time
hidden it on a shelf
and smoothed over the door
shallow grave
walked away.

love.

she says the gift is the feeling of it
not the reciprocation
he says no one can ever love you the way you want to feel loved
i say you can't fall out of love
love ain't no fuckin' tree.

/this is what i want to say about love.
it is terrifying
it changes you
it changes everything
it carries you
aloft
from floating you see the land
color blocks and swirvy lines
deep blue water
flattened, like hammer to nail
and it could
float you down
        glide
wing ed
nothing but the wind in your ears and clouds in your hair
nothing but your whole body melting into ozone, hemisphere
but it can also drop you
baby bird
empty nest
what looks to be a parachute, ballast
all hopes
evaporate
eviscerated
a fish hook enters, sharp as a razor
pulled out the way it went in
stuck
barb
tearing
slow death, painful. jagged.

love.
so many costumes, guises.
a siren's call
kiss and a slap

/this is what i want to say about love.
be not afraid to speak it
be not afraid to tell it
whether it is taken from your hands, out of your mouth, from your sex
whether rejected, tied in knots
whether turned into lies
whether told
'no. this is not love. i don't love you. you don't know what love is. i've never loved you. you're not worthy of love. i haven't known you long enough. but i told you not to fall in love with me. you know i don't have love to give you.'

what is the gift?
is the gift loving another or
just loving.

/this is what i want to say about love.
love is delicious
inspiring, opening
it's nothing i want to be ashamed of
no matter the subject
no matter here nor there
no matter gender chosen or assigned
no matter
even if secret, unattainable, gone

love is at my door again
/this is what i want to say about love.

Neist Point, Isle of Skye - Scotland

My Isle of Skye photos are many, and varied. In only a few days we saw, and drove, the entire coast. I've tried to upload them in order of families--- geographical locations, so as to remember the days, the mood, the varied and foreign land.

The Westernmost Point of the Isle of Skye is Neist Point and there's a lighthouse there. It's a ravishing, steep view of desert like cliffs and sea to the horizon. We walked down the side of one cliff where there are hundreds of stairs, but instead of going all the way out to the lighthouse, we parked ourselves against an old drystone wall and watched the light shift from white to yellow to golden orange, feeling Scotland's late spring air shift from warm to cool.

This day was perfect. These photos show a glimpse of that day, and there's more that will be uploaded this week.

All my Isle of Skye photos thus far can be accessed through the Urquart Castle post. I can't say I did any of the land justice because it was well beyond my visual comprehension and I was humbled by it immensely as a photographer. Please take these photos as a document of my first visit to a land I hope to court in the future. I have still, as yet, to make my pilgrimmage to Shuna.

London, Walking the Thames.

Urquhart Castle, Scotland {Loch Ness}

No, I did not see the monster.
Yes, of course I looked.
No, I was not driving.
Yes, I spent the whole time looking out the window, spotting castles and new little lambs and sheepy sheep and fuzzy cows.

But the castles. That was it for me. I loves me some Castle. Big ones, hidden ones, ones in ruins, ones still inhabited, forest castles, cliff castles, sequestered castles. O castle, I heart ye.

Urquhart Castle was perhaps the first we saw. I recognized it from having seen a number of amazing shots through kayaking sites. Those people get the best views, I must say.

For the full walk-through of Urquhart Castle, feel free to check out what I've placed on Flickr.

This castle has the best location. It sits right at the edge of Loch Ness, has an amazing view of a body of water as far as the eye can focus, and, as you can see, I saw Scotland in full sun for four days! For which I am most grateful. If you have an in with the Scottish Gods be sure to thank them for me.

The other Scotland photo sets thus far ~
Isle of Skye: Northeast, North, Northwest
Portree, Isle of Skye. Harbor Boats
Faerie Pools, Isle of Skye - Scotland
Scotland, North West
Duisdale House Hotel Isle of Skye, Scotland
Dun Telve Broch, Glenelg near Kyle of Lochalsh
Westernmost Point of Skye, Scotland

How Do I Get a Professional Cooking/Baking Job in a Restaurant?

As you know, I get a lot of questions from cooks or future cooks from all over the world. When I started eggbeater I didn't really understand the internet, and I didn't know people from everywhere would be reading it, or even that they would get to it from someplace other than the exact location I was writing it from. You could say I was naive. You'd be correct, and diplomatic.

People want to know how they can become a chef, pastry chef, or even start cooking professionally. People want to know what to do when the kitchens they work in suck. Female cooks want to know exactly how much harassment they should take. Everyone wants me to tell them which is the best culinary school. A lot of people want to know what the pay scale is. Many people ask Google how many hours they should expect to work as a chef/cook.

But the question I get most is how to land the very first job, stagiere, apprenticeship.

How do I get my first cooking job?
What will the interview be like?
How long does it take to become a pastry chef?
Can I work for you?

I write, and have written, the same email response over and over and over. You'd think by now I'd have a form-letter, but I'm still a little naive, so I don't.

And because I have recently started pounding the pavement again, I can say that my own advice, after 17 years, still works.

Here are my standard tips for getting into your first kitchen, and maybe some more, if you so choose to make kitchens your life, love and home.

1. Eat out as much as you can afford. Bring a little notebook and pen with you wherever you go. Take notes. When you find a menu you love, ask your waiter for the full name of the chef and pastry chef. Ask what the hours of said restaurant are.
2. Print out your resume/CV and bring it, in person, to this restaurant and ask for the chef/pastry chef by full name. Only go to a restaurant before services. If a place is open for lunch and dinner it's best to show up between 3-4 pm. Never ever ever ever call or go to a restaurant and ask for anyone managerial while service is going on.
3. Flattery will get you everywhere. Tell said chef you loved her/his food when you ate there and that you would love to work in their kitchen. Questions to come out of your mouth sound something like this: 'Are there any entry level positions open?' 'Do you have room for a stagiere?' 'Can I come in for a stagiere?' You are humble. You will take any position. You know little. But you are firm and have conviction. You go to that back door every day and ask for the person you need to speak with if it's the place you want to work.
4. Do not wait for a phone call back.
5. Do not email your resume/CV as an attachment.
6. Do not take rejection as such until you have exhausted all your options.
7. Do not take rejection personally. Do not take acceptance personally either. Most chefs love free labour and if you land an entry level position, you will still have to work hard to earn respect in the kitchen.
8. Read as much as you can about said chef/restaurant. If you make it into the kitchen spend all your waking hours reading local papers, food magazines, blogs, and cookbooks covering said cuisine.
9. IMMERSE YOURSELF. In all things food, cooking, baking, ingredients, agriculture, butchery.
10. Take notes.
11. Buy these things for every job and never go to work without them:
12. Thick Sharpie, A little notebook that fits in your back pocket and 1 indelible pen that is not a thick sharpie.
13. Always leave a little time before you enter the kitchen for Mental Mis en Place. This is as important as your physical tools like knives, off-set spatulas and shoes you can stand for 16 hours in.
14. When you are in the kitchen, learn everyone's {full} names and histories. Get their information and keep in touch with them long after you leave said job. It is from my relationships to other cooks that I have gotten 98% of my jobs.
15. Your knives should always be sharp. You do not need a lot of them.
16. Get to work early and stay late. Watch and learn from the best people in the kitchen. Fellow cooks don't talk or give advice a lot in the kitchen but their movements, set-up, and how they fare during service will tell you more than they could.
17. Stay humble. People who have been cooking for decades and decades will die knowing less than most people think they know in their first few years cooking/baking. Cooking is a craft, not an acquisition.
18. Stay in every kitchen for at least 1 year in your first 5 years.

No matter your age, gender, sexual preference, religion, and class, when you are at the bottom of the brigade/totem pole, you are truly at the bottom. Learn how to wash dishes even if it's not your job title. Be available for anything.

Even if you are a stagiere, act like the job is a job. If all the chef has available is a stage, make a serious intentional arrangement about time. Just going in when it suits you will not build enough of a rhythm to learn from, at least not in the beginning.

If you really want to cook professionally, and all the restaurants in your area are chains or run by Shoemakers, you will have to move.

People keep writing to me about their horrible kitchens. Chefs with little to no integrity. Dirty disgusting kitchens. Kitchens putting their workers and diners at risk with food and safety issues.

If you work in a kitchen that is not safe for anyone working or dining there, leave. If you want to make a difference, access your local authorities. You can not make an anonymous claim, though. If you're going to advocate, you have to be brave.

I took Whole Foods to the National Labor Relations Board {NLRB} and filed a claim with OSHA when I was about 22, so I don't want to hear you're too young or scared of your job or whatever when it comes to reporting the kitchen you show up every day to.

If you want to cook professionally you may want to stop watching kitchen reality shows.
If you want to cook professionally you should have money in the bank or very cheap rent or a spouse to support you.
If you want to cook professionally you immediately give up having a 'normal' life with 'normal' working hours.
If you want to cook professionally you will have to really want it. Above all else.
If you want to cook professionally go after it like nothing else. Stop at nothing.
If you want to cook professionally you will, if it's all you can think about. If you can afford to do so. If you set your mind to it.

When will you be a chef?

That I can't say. For that there is no bullet point list, no advice, no recipe.

I didn't start cooking profdessionally to become a chef or be a chef or arrive as a chef. I started cooking professionally because it was all I wanted to do at a very particular time in my life. I didn't go to culinary school, I did not own a single knife, I did not know what an 'all-day' was.

I learned everything on the job. And so can you. Or you can go to school. Or take all that money you would sign over to a school, put it in the bank, and go work for someone whose food you love for free and live on that bank account.

I'm here to say that flattery is the best way to get your foot in a seemingly solid steel door. I recently took a CV to a restaurant I like a lot. I said these words,

"Hello. I've only been here to eat a few times but I love it. I'm in the industry-- I'm a cook, and I happen to have my CV with me. But I want you to know this: even if you never call me, I am going to come back. I have recommended __________ to many people and I will continue to do so. Just in case the chef needs any help, I'm available for any position."

And I got a phone call. And a trail/day stage.

While I have no idea what will happen, a lot has happened already because I was able to work for 12 hours inside one of the most inspirational kitchens I have ever had the priveledge to be in.

When the chef asked me why I had given the restaurant my CV even though no position was being advertised, I said, "Where I come from, if a resume comes to me and I can not utilize said person, I pass it along to someone I respect who can. If I gave you my CV, and I love your food, and you did the same, I would trust that my name would be passed along to someone else I would want to work for."

Rule of thumb: the more people who see your resume/CV, the more likelihood of getting a job. And if you never burn any bridges it's great because the cooking world is small. I recently traveled 8,000 miles only to work with a pastry chef who had gone to school with and worked for some of the very same people I had, in the exact same kitchens!

And now I'm in a completely foreign city, connecting with cooks and bakers, following the same advice I'm giving you.

Be brave. Be bold.

This industry isn't for the faint of heart. It's for the passionate, the crazy, the driven, the competitive.
This industry is a knitted series of networks of people who are like tiny cities/families unto themselves.
This industry is my home, my heart, my love, my people, brethren.

But it's not a part time job. And it's not impossible to enter.

Perhaps I have now finally created my form-letter response...
I do hope this helps.

Fellow cooks/chefs/bakers/pastry chefs-- any more advice to add to the list?
People entering the industry-- what has worked for you? What hasn't?

Portree Harbor, Isle of Skye. Scotland

if you know me, you know i have always had a thing for the sea.
anything maritime is a friend of mine.
whether it be fish or sailors, the navy or coast guard, whales & sea birds, octopi or coral; it's all my love.
like kitchens, i can never get enough of photographing water, and all its related themes.

in fact, i hope you'll join me in seeing and spreading the word about The End of the Line, a brutally honest film about overfishing the world's oceans and waterways. while i agree it won't be pleasant to see and learn about this devastatingly sad subject, i know it's immeasurably important to be fully aware. we make choices all the time, both intentional and passive, with our money & voices, as it concerns the food we are eating now and the food we are planning to eat in the future.

but until then, feel free to see a tiny sampling of photos i took at Portree's harbor just a few days ago. i took a lot of photographs all around the Isle of Skye, but I am gathering them into specific sets on flickr. for ease-- less of a chance to overwhelm.
thank you for going on the journey with me.
it was an amazing one.

Scotland, Isle of Skye. The Fairy Pools.

i have no words yet.
there are too many, and yet none of them work.
so i've begun with the photos. in groups. by place.
it's the best way i know how.
to give it all the room.
it deserves, needs, requires.
i was humbled and awed
opened and touched
nourished and inspired.

Isle of Skye, Scotland.
The Fairy Pools in Glen Brittle, The Cuillin Hills.
about 20 photos here, including a few of me dipping my face in very cold and absolutely delicious water!

Petersham Nurseries for lunch at the Tea House.

I just wanted to remind you, and you know who you are, to go to Petersham Nurseries if you have not yet been. I realize that it's quite dear to eat in the restaurant. And that it's a bit far away.
But you know what?
There's nothing like it.
It's gorgeous, enchanting, delicious,
and you can get there by boat or Overground, not just Rail. So there. Easy-peasy.
Need a photographic prod? Here, take a gander.



As a reminder, the cafe serves food just as delicious as the restaurant, but not nearly as expensive.
It's open Wednesday - Sunday 12 Noon - 2:45 pm

I realize there's a notion that expensive eateries are more firmly grounded than more reasonable ones, but I am here to state for the record, as a chef and friend of many a restaurateur, places like Petersham Nursuries need continual support to remain who they are striving to be. The food here is clean, bright, fresh, hearty, nourishing and made with love.
And the Eccles Cakes are not half bad either. {I have knowledge from the inside.}



I hope you make it out here. If you go for the first time because I've leaned on you, can you let me us know what you thought?

Paris Spring Photos, all.

{all} my paris photographs on flickr.
best viewed as slideshow.

Scotland Bound ~

Not to make you jealous or anything, but London has been experiencing, for some weeks now, a glorious sun, skies empty of clouds, the occasional grey day to stay in and get cozy, and an amazing warmth that has all manner of British and EU'ers in shorts, sunglasses, flip-flops and tank tops.
Everyone appears happy, content and generally talkative.

Perhaps this is why I am feeling a strong tug from the ocean, from a quiet, natural, old landscape. I wanted to go to Shuna Island, but it's a bit too far for my first Scottish journey. Instead I am off to the Isle of Skye. I'm utterly excited. It's been a long time since I traveled to a place I've never been before.

I will be without internet, but I have left eggbeater with a few photo series in case you want to know what I've been up to lately.

today, bittersweet. /i hate today.

as the weekend nears
you feel dread
but you can't put your finger on it.
it's in there
at the tip of your mind
tongue, a bitter taste.

but you can't remember
and it bothers you all day, all week, every day
like a scratchy sweater
or plastic on wet skin
sciatica

what day is it
not sure
has it passed, when will it arrive

and yet
it's on your mind
the day that's coming and you can't avoid it
even though if you could take a knife to that place
you would
without hesitation.

but you don't tell anyone
you keep quiet
because you don't want to make a fuss
hey, maybe the day will go unnoticed
because you don't live in america anymore
people here aren't as sappy.
a greeting card for every occasion isn't necessary.
and if you keep quiet
maybe it won't happen maybe no one will know maybe you'll
forget.

forget.
hahahahahahahaha
you're            funny
/in a dark dark dark way.

you never forget
in fact
it never gets better
just different
and you hate
you hate
time

you hate today

you hate the word forget
you hate people who still have both parents

 you hate that nothing can ever take it away
no amount of heroin, hours working, exhaustion, fucking, drinking, razors, inspiring, writing, punk rock, words, miles moved

nothing
will ever take it away.

nothing
will ever
bring her back.

nothing will ever
bring
you
back.

today, bittersweet.
/i hate today.

you hate that there's a name for today.
a demarcation.
you hate that it's all the rage to proudly declare it all over the internet like it's some sort of star receiving statement.

and funny,
because you almost forgot
you wandered into today groggy, spent, sore, listless, happy
you dreamt of the person beside you
naked
doing nothing in particular
just lovely to be near
even though
you are soon to say good bye.
again and again
you say farewell
you let go of someone's hand
because they're no longer
holding your hand back

you leave with you from the bar
you say, 'i make sweet things.'

click
document
memory
click
she's stopped breathing
finally
click
lightswitch
change
click
nothing.

but today is here
and heavy
and you are so goddamned glad
you won't see or hear from anyone you care about today
so you can walk into that space
no one understands
no one
and not come out
until you want to.

because when today is over
you'll be on a plane
you're going to see the ocean
you're going to taste the sea
you're going to see the sky
you're going to be close to your place
your name
you're going to allow someone to touch you
again
and then let-         go
you
are going to let another day pass
are going to live
in the moment
and savor it,
delicious de la.

cold water air
words unspoken
touch light, electric
close eyes
un petit mort
salt, wet.

you''ll come back
envelope sealed
wings tucked.
today, absence.

today, closed.
today, quiet.
today, armor down.

today, bittersweet.

paris. {photos seulement}

gone fishing. {paris}

in a few hours a train station will swallow me like a whale and spit me out in paris.
i'll walk out dazed
and seek butter.
then it will all be fine.
besides what i love, where should i go?
what should i see, who should i do?
all ideas welcome.
x

Hampton Court Palace. day trip from London by boat.

It was very sunny in London on Sunday April 19, the day of our field trip.
At 11 am we boarded a very small boat and sat on the deck, and opened snacks, and had strong tea and watched The Thames go by and listened to the captain point out sights and went through a few Locks and ate crisps and talked to strangers and were giddy and silly and laughed and blushed and got very sunburned.
We also saw a lot of houses we wanted to live in.

At 2 we arrived at Hampton Court Palace, a King Henry VIII residence.

We spread apart and saw different rooms and whispered about history and took photos and smelled lilacs and saw horses and trees shaved to look like hats and secret gardens where we could all imagine many a frolicking and giggleing and chasing and kissing and making love under the blossoming trees took place! I might have a lot of wives too if I had a garden like that attached to my house the size of Rhode Island.


I wanted the maze to be like the one in Orlando but it wasn't because it was dreadful because it wasn't very green and I got out of there as fast as I could. But because it was so sunny and there were wildflowers and tall grasses and lilacs and I was with friends and people I have known and loved for years and years,
this little annoyance soon disappeared.

The light coming through tiny lead seamed windows was gorgeous and subtle.

And it was nifty to touch the stone and to think that something as architecturally sound and full of profound history could still be standing.

A wondrous day indeed.
It was fun to be a kind of tourist or adventurer or get out of the city or sit back and relax for a 3 hour boatride or meet new people or take a tiny picnic of pocketfood or get sunburned.
If you want to see more of the bridges we floated under or the rooms and the tapestries and the light and the stained glass windows and the cobblestone hallways and the massive fireplace for roasting meats or just take a gander at the posse, check out the flickr page.