May 2013
26 posts
“New York? It was big.”
– Yogi Berra, former Yankee and one of the most famous baseball players of all time, when asked about his first memory of New York.
I’ve mentioned my love for this quote once before, and tonight I’m heading to Yankee Stadium again, two years later, for my second time. It still and always...
Today in amazing headlines
The NYT Dining & Wine section does it again #rkelly
On the occasion of Mother’s Day, I give you one of my favorite pieces of food writing, by the ever-brilliant Tom Junod, unedited, nominated for a James Beard award, and published in our September 2010 issue:
I cook for my family. To put it another way: I am my family’s cook, and so I cook almost every night. I cook three hundred days a year, and have cooked three hundred days a year...
The Mama
Read the rest and get the recipe here.
to the woods
I felt like lying down by the side of the trail and remembering it all. The woods do that to you, they always look familiar, long lost, like the fact of a long-dead relative, like an old dream, like a piece of forgotten song drifting across the water, most of all like golden eternities of your childhood or past manhood and all the living and the dying and the heartbreak that went on a million...
From Cali and mah soul sistah to the country and tha real sistah, just can’t wait to see this one tomorrow night. She really nailed it with the emotis here. Who knew we could be summed up so neatly.
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“Happiness, not in another place but this place. Not for another hour, but this...”
madeleinethomas:
“Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me? Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?”
“This hour I tell things in confidence. I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.”
Here I come California
To the West Coast, to the other bay, the cool Pacific breeze. To adventure. With nothing to expect but everything. To the dwindling evening light and the warm of wine in my belly (and laughter too) and the existential, evoking conversations that those things breed. To bopping around young and electric and free. To best friends and soul-peoples I go.
I’ve said it before but I’ll say...
Packing a suitcase has a way of revealing all the belongings you don’t really need.
April 2013
38 posts
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Pretty much sums it up right now.
“We cast the boat out from the shore without any clue when, or if, we are going...”
– The brilliant Colum McCann, on writing. A little, honest bit of wisdom after a whole day spent experiencing just this.
“It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work. And when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.”
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On the road
So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, all the people dreaming in the immensity of it…and tonight the stars’ll be out…the evening star must be dropping and shedding her...
“Good days. They come around the oddest corners.”
– Colum McCann
“Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it by...”
– More from Whitman, my spirit guide.
Listen
You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life. Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout, and laughingly dash with your hair.
- Whitman
