the notion of pie

This morning I was at the farmer's market to buy some brown eggs. At this time of year there's only a few farmers out with their trucks because there's not a whole lot of growing going on in Buffalo . The farmers that do show up are selling last fall's leftovers, as well as homemade jelly & jams and jars of honey too. I consider it a small miracle to be able to buy fresh locally grown apples that are still quite juicy and crunchy when you bite into them. I really had no notion to bake a pie today because all I wanted to do was buy a couple dozen of brown eggs. For some reason I like brown eggs. I heard that only certain hens lay brown eggs so the way I look at it, by me going to the market every week, I'm doing my small part to keep a certain species of hen from going extinct. Besides, I'm keeping a local farmer alive too. Anyway, after I purchased the eggs I stopped to look at all the varieties of apples in the baskets. It was then, that the farm lady asked...do you need some apples. And my response was...nah, if I buy apples, I'll just feel obligated to bake a pie. And she said...baking a pie ain't such a bad thing to do. And then, me and this other customer chatted about pie baking. We talked about the type of apples we like to use for pie, the shortening we use and other little tricks
that were handed down to us by other pie masters of our existence. I would imagine though, no matter what we learn from other people or what recipe books we use, each one of us make a slightly different pie from the next. I remember a long time ago looking up a recipe for pie crust in my mother's old cooking book. And I remember reading something like this...in order to make a good crust, you have to be swift and deft. Those two words...swift and deft have stuck with me throughout my life. They have a zen-like quality to me. Once I got beyond the notion of pie all that was left was me, the apples, the flour, the salt, the sugar, the cinnamon, the lard, the oven,the clock on the wall, the aroma and the communion. I like my piece with a scoop of vanilla ice cream too.

what are you afraid of

Let's rule out death right away. We should all know that death will occur regardless how we feel or fear about it. But, what if it doesn't ever happen to you. You, clunky pile of flesh and bones and gushy gizzards and tendons & grizzle and eyeballs too. Not to mention your coveted testicles or clitoris too. You...and I hope you know who I'm talking to. Maybe me. & really me for sure. I mean really, what do I really know beyond myself. And I'm not even sure about me. Do re me me me me me me me fa so la ti do Or is me mi? Hey, I can't even figure this shit out and I went to school. What are we being taught. Columbus sailed the ocean blue. And that dumb mother fucker landed some place other than india. Genealogists know what I'm talking about. Bleak is a word that comes to mind. Transatlantic translation too. Welcome, you are now free of a bunch of letters that once held you together. From Smyczynski to Smith. Was your father a blacksmith? Don't look back. Who are you now. Not ever to be next. & yet, next to next is always next within the flux of the next next. It's your heart beating. or being next in line..or something else. thump, thump, thump

ouch the couch

If you come to our house for a visit be assured that you'll be leaving with more hairs on you than you came in with. We have dogs and cats and no matter how diligent we are with our house cleaning we seem to be in a perPETual shed around here. But so what, pets are good for you. They grow on you and they shed on you too. And, when they end up leaving you, you shed too. Albeit tears that is. The only reason I'm blogging tonight is simply because I wanted to use the word albeit. I think I may have used the word albeit one other time in a blog. I'm not really fond of it but I think by using it, I may stop it from becoming extinct. The other day I read in the newspaper that a particular cougar has now become extinct. And I thought, holy fuck, we have become a careless people. But words are not beings. As many times as I say cougar, cougar, cougar I can't bring that particular cougar back from extinction. Of course, contrary to the scientific article the cougar may reappear some day....albeit unlikely. There was another word I heard today in a song from a currently popular folk group and when I heard the word (giddy) I thought, now there's a word I don't hear that much anymore. And then I thought....it may be more popular in Britain. Giddy is probably a word I've never used until today. It's a word that seems more feminine than masculine, but that's probably a dumb thing for me to say because I think we all know a lot of giddy guys out there. But, I'm quite sure that a lot of medicines out nowadays have pretty much gotten rid of giddy. All this makes me wonder...to make your horse go...do you say...giddy up..or gitty up. And if I were to bring a horse into my house, I wonder if it would shed.

I could sit this one out

It's tough to sit when you're a player. I was going to sit this blog out tonight...but something...possibly the rusty muse...told me to get off my ass and write. Why, I'm seldom sure. I saw a robin today and now I'm wondering if the ground has warmed up enough so that the worms will be able to poke out so that they can become the robin's sustenance. There's so much I don't know. For one, do robin's only eat worms. For two, do worms freeze during winter and then do they thaw out just to become some fat bird's food. For three, what do worms eat. For four, do they really eat shit. For five, why am I thinking about hamlet. For six, is there a god. For seven, do robins and worms go to heaven. For eight, do cannibals after consuming a human being ever proclaim that they just ate a cock. For nine, did the cock ever crow nine times. For ten, I wonder what possesses me to write.
For eleven, is there any pain in being a flower. For twelve, I don't understand how this makes a dozen. For thirteen, do people ever read wallace stevens anymore. For fourteen, why stop. I'm glad you asked, because I was just about ready to tell you to shut the fuck up. I was about ready to say so, but so is so...so predictable. As is anyway. So and anyway are cop out words. So what you may be thinking, or anyway, it must be time for bed. Bed is a cop out too. Unless of course you're a worm frozen beneath a flower bed, or a robin, or a cannibal or an insomniac.

sniffing a dying hyacinth

I was on twitter a few moments ago lamenting on how I'd like to blog but was also wondering how I could cultivate a following. I was the whore, and I was pimping myself. Two women came back at me and said...write it and we will read. So here I am. Here I am seems so lofty doesn't it. I come to do your will..etc. Like lordy comes to mind too. Earlier today though I was thinking that the spring season is approaching and even though I did what I had to do with the clocks around here I still haven't seen my first plump robin of the year. I've heard their songs during my morning walks with the dogs but I haven't seen them attempting to pluck out big out big fat worms from mother earth. But then again, this is Buffalo and even the hardiest worms have enough sense to stay underground until the mud melts. Only us humans seems to rush the seasons. About a week ago I picked up this hyacinth from the local supermarket because the scent that it emanates reminds me of my mother and easter too. (probably because my mother once said she likes hyacinths and for forty years after she said that she got a hyacinth for easter) And the scent worked, because people in our house picked up on it. They began to feel resurrected ...like something new was going on in their life. And of course, we all know that something new is continually going on in our life, but at times, we think we need a prop or a prod. So, I am actually glad that I did mention that I felt like doing something like this tonight and I'm glad that I got a little poke. Wait a minute...twitter doesn't have a poke button. Anyway, since easter is so late this year and the damn hyacinth is already shriveling up and inching its way towards another season I may have to bring another plant into the house and write about that. When was the last time you picked dandelions.

going with the grain

Because I'm a big pain in the ass I like to go against the grain. I know no one gave me license to do so but I so much love doing so. I love to bust chops, and I'm wondering if that term is ever used anymore. (bust chops) That's probably more politically correct than being a ball buster. The whole vernacular has changed out there. That's good, but it makes me engage the think before you speak button a lot more. I remember when Joan Bozer joined our all male caucus from across the aisle about twenty years ago. She didn't change from Republican to Democrat but she was the most liberal minded republican I ever met. Goldwater today would probably be considered a liberal. Anyway after our caucus, Joan said that she had heard the word "fuck" today more than she heard it her whole entire life. And when she said that, I said to myself, I don't remember using that word at all this afternoon. The word fuck can still go against the grain even today. This all brings me to an old joke. People don't tell jokes any more. Our fast paced society likes only the punch lines. We seem to have lost time for the story. My brother Al and his pal Danny were horrible to be around. They came from another generation than me, so their stories lingered a long while before the punch line hit. And you see, I'm using their ploy right now. I haven't even begun to start the joke. It's not like I'm setting you up...it's more like I'm trying to remember the story and why I even think it's worthy of retelling. But what even would be cooler than me telling you, would you telling someone else...in your own version, and they would tell someone else and eventually someone else would tell you...and you upon hearing it would say...holy shit, this sounds vaguely familiar. A young couple and their seven year old son had relocated from a upstate New York city to a small town in Indiana. After they established themselves in a new church they thought it would be a nice gesture to invite their pastor to their home for an after Sunday service dinner. Through word of mouth they found out that the best ham you could get in their town was produced by the Damm Family Farm. It was known as the Damm Ham. So when the day came and the pastor was at the home of the his new parishioners, the man of the family said to his wife...honey could you please pass the Damm ham.. and.their young son sitting at the table with them exclaimed...geez dad, I didn't know you were so cool, could you please pass the fucking potatoes. If you laughed shame on you. If you didn't shame on me.

Blame

This is for me here on in...not you. I personally will not use the word ego anymore. Or should I say annoymore. Anyway. I overuse the word anyway too. But fuck it...it's less annoying than ego. Lately the word ego has seemed to become more of a scapegoat than anything else. Blame my ego. Hey, I'm sorry I was such an asshole last night...my ego got in the way. I would've danced with you...I actually ached to dance the tango with you, but something kept telling me that I was way much better than you...and you didn't deserve to be on the same dance floor with my ego. I mean...I really wanted to dance with you, but this damn ego kept on saying...hey man, wake up, she's not your style. I just love reservations. I want to call it the filter. So I said...what do you think ego...can you live with filter. Yeah, but be careful, this is alter ego speaking. Well,
what does super ego have to say about all this. I don't know, it's bad enough I have an ego to begin with, but now I have an alter and super one too. Nah, that was forty years ago...nobody pays attention to Freud anymore. Why's that? He always had his finger up his ass. Was it an ego thing? I think it was more of an id thing. Id, what the hell is that? I'm not quite sure, but I think id is short for libido. Yeah, that makes sense. But really it doesn't....that's why I simplified everything lately by attaching all significance to the ego. I had to simplify my world. And I only have me to blame if it goes wrong. Who are you? ...... isn't she a bit like you and we. I make my words and meanings as I go along. ...... .......... Yes, I agree.