seventeentimes

Choices

htm — Fri, 13 Feb 2009 06:33:18 +0000

I’m giving up sugar - because of the way it makes me obsess about needing something sweet, and makes me feel sick, and makes holes in my teeth, and because it might eventually stop my body from fighting disease.
I’m taking up the clarinet - because I love the idea of being able to play exciting music myself, and it sounds beautiful.

I’m giving up palm oil - because orangutans are losing their homes and dying as a result of of the production process.
I’m taking up eating mostly unprocessed fruits and vegetables and grains and beans - because eating this way makes me feel so happy and alive.

I’m giving up feeling stressed for not being able to live up to standards I set for myself that are too high - because stress suffocates my joy and I’m scared it will cause me damage to keep living with it.
I’m taking up going on dates with my husband (usually accompanied by the dog) - because it reminds me to enjoy the most important things in my life on a daily basis.

Snorgling

htm — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 05:18:42 +0000

Afternoon

htm — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 19:41:51 +0000

I dream of quiet places, of vast places.

I dream of mud clinging to my boots, of frost on my breath.
I dream of looking out over miles and miles and miles and miles and miles and miles.
I dream of so many trees, of rocks and cliffs, of lakes.
I dream of skies above bigger than everything else, so big I might fall through them.

I love the face of my dog, the eyes of my cat, the words of my family, the arms of my husband, the laughter of my friends.

I love stories and music and paintings and films and good television and good wine.

Nothing else seems real or important.

I smell of Green Tea body lotion, my room smells of Amber incense. Both are gifts. My stomach is empty, my tea is cold, the washing is drying on the line. I am alone and it is quiet and these things are just what I need.

The best job in the world

htm — Sat, 10 Jan 2009 00:02:22 +0000

The Relationship

htm — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 17:12:02 +0000

I beg you to read part of this New York Times article by Rebecca Skloot featuring a wonderful story about a man and his parrot. The section with Jim and Sadie is on the second page of ‘Creature Comforts’

“A few months ago, in a cafe in St. Louis, I met a man named Jim Eggers, who uses an assistance parrot, Sadie, to help control his psychotic tendencies. Eggers looks like a man who has been fighting his whole life. He is muscular, with a buzz cut, several knocked-out teeth and many scars, including one that runs ear-to-chin from surgery to repair a broken jaw. Eggers avoids eye contact in public — he walks fast down streets and through stores staring at the ground, jaw clenched. “I have bipolar disorder with psychotic tendencies,” he told me as he sucked down a green-apple smoothie. “Homicidal feelings too.”

Eggers’s condition has landed him in court several times: a disturbing-the-peace charge for pouring scalding coffee onto a man under his apartment window who annoyed him; one-year probation for threatening to kill the archbishop of St. Louis because of news reports about church money and molestations by priests in other cities (which the archbishop had nothing to do with). In describing his condition, Eggers says it’s like when the Incredible Hulk changes from man to monster. His vision blurs, his body tingles and he can barely hear. According to his friend Larry Gower, who often serves as a public liaison for him, in those moments, Eggers gets extremely loud. They both agree that Sadie is one of the few things keeping Eggers from snapping. (more…)

Happy New Year

htm — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 16:03:36 +0000

túrána hott kurdís by hasta la otra méxico! from Till Credner on Vimeo.

Lunch

htm — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 20:00:54 +0000

Chickpea Fritters with Zingy Tomato Sauce:

1. Blend chickpeas, walnuts, capers, shredded carrots, flour, salt, pepper, cumin, hot sauce (or any combination of chickpeas plus whatever happens to be in your fridge)
2. Make into small patties.
3. Fry until golden brown - don’t overcook, delicious even when quite soft.
4. To make sauce crush cherry tomatoes and add a good amount of lime juice (I also added Yeast Flakes).

Serve with brussel sprouts

Milly Maybe - Part Five

htm — Sat, 27 Dec 2008 19:58:45 +0000

Just then the water in the pot began to boil, making the top jump up and down with a comforting sort of clattering sound, and Millicent shifted her gaze. That was when she saw the second distracting thing. That was when she saw the painting. Torn between a gasp, a splutter and a shriek, she attempted all three simultaneously and the resulting sound caused Marama to look up sharply from her preparations. After seeing Millicent’s ashen face, as frozen in shock as if it too had been caught up in an ice storm, Marama followed her gaze to the face in the small painting hanging on the wall and said, “Ah, yes, I’ve been wondering about that”.

This reaction was almost as incomprehensible to Millicent as the face staring back at her from the painting, and it shook her out of her trance, “What do you mean you’ve been wondering about it?” she cried. “Where did you get that painting? Why do you have it? How did it…” she trailed off as she rose to her feet, lost for words. “How did….” she tried again, but it was too hard to know where to begin. How could there possibly be an explanation for the fact that hanging in Marama’s cave was a picture of Millicent Mint of Muckleberry-Down-The-Lane? Millicent decided that there couldn’t be, and although she had never fainted before, she also decided that now was as good a time as any to give it a try. So she did.

She came to what felt like hours later. The cave was much darker than when they had entered it, although there was a candle burning somewhere behind her, casting flickering shadows across the ceiling. She guessed she must be lying on Marama’s bed. There was a cool cloth draped over her forehead but it didn’t seem to be making any difference to the horrible pounding in the back of her head. The brooding notes of Marama’s violin came from close by, but when Millicent tried to lift her head the pounding exploded in unbearable pain and the playing stopped.

“Lie still”, said a soft, rumbling voice from somewhere beside her. “Now that you’re awake I can give you something that will ease the pain”.

Marama’s huge, furry paw appeared above her and dropped something cold and slimy into her mouth. Under normal circumstances Millicent would never have swallowed something without a proper inspection - it was something she was always getting into trouble for at the supper table at home - but she quickly gulped down the tasteless globule without a word of protest. Her thoughts were fuzzy, but they were still in order and she didn’t want to waste any more time.

“Marama”, she began through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the pain, “The painting… How did you come by it?”

Marama sighed deeply. “It was painted a long, long time ago”, she said, as if that was all that needed to be said on the subject.

“But it can’t have been!” exclaimed Millicent. “I don’t look a day older today than I do in that picture!”

“You?” said Marama, the tone in her voice quite altered from a moment before. “But it isn’t a painting of you”.

“How can you say that? I saw it with my own eyes”, said Millicent, pushing herself up in bed to look directly at Marama despite the shooting pains this caused, “It was like looking into a mirror!”

Marama stood up and walked into the darkness, but she returned almost immediately and held out the painting so that Millicent could see it up close. Millicent held it up to the light and scrutinised it carefully. She had to admit that while the resemblance was striking there were details about the face that did not match her own. For one thing the scar on her left temple was missing, as was the little brown mole on her cheek. Also the collar of the dress of the girl in the picture, just visible at the edge of the frame, was of delicately embroidered lace and far finer than anything Millicent had ever worn.

“Who is she?” she asked, convinced now that Marama was telling the truth, but Marama didn’t reply. She was sitting perfectly still, and Millicent could see that all the hairs on her back were standing perfectly on end. Millicent felt a shiver go down her spine.

“Marama”, she whispered, “What is it?”.

Marama raised a paw to silence Millicent, then she rose to her feet and moved soundlessly towards the cave entrance. Millicent struggled down from the bed and followed after her but the pain from her head made her sway awkwardly and she bumped into Marama’s music stand, sending a flurry of papers flapping to the ground. Marama wheeled around on the spot, her eyes burning, and in the same instance the howling started and Millicent knew she had made a big mistake.

My author went away for two months and all she brought me back was this lousy video…

htm — Sat, 20 Dec 2008 00:44:22 +0000

Actually, it’s an amazing video… Please watch in High Definition for full amazingness…

Captain Bellamy

htm — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 02:27:08 +0000

Captain Bellamy made this speech to the captain of a merchant vessel he had taken as a prize. Bellamy had wanted to let the captain keep his ship, but his crew had voted to burn the sloop. The captain of the merchant vessel had just declined an invitation to join the pirates.

“I am sorry they won’t let you have your sloop again, for I scorn to do any one a mischief, when it is not to my advantage; damn the sloop, we must sink her, and she might be of use to you. Though you are a sneaking puppy, and so are all those who will submit to be governed by laws which rich men have made for their own security; for the cowardly whelps have not the courage otherwise to defend what they get by knavery; but damn ye altogether: damn them for a pack of crafty rascals, and you, who serve them, for a parcel of hen-hearted numbskulls. They vilify us, the scoundrels do, when there is only this difference, they rob the poor under the cover of law, forsooth, and we plunder the rich under the protection of our own courage. Had you not better make then one of us, than sneak after these villains for employment?”

When the captain replied that his conscience would not let him break the laws of God and man, the pirate Bellamy continued:

“You are a devilish conscience rascal, I am a free prince, and I have as much authority to make war on the whole world, as he who has a hundred sail of ships at sea, and an army of 100,000 men in the field; and this my conscience tells me: but there is no arguing with such snivelling puppies, who allow superiors to kick them about deck at pleasure.