Campanella's Corner

♥ Bonvenon! (Welcome!) ♥ My name is Campanella, and this blog of mine has worn a lot of hats- It started as an aesthetic blog, became a journaling blog for learning Esperanto, and now it's something of a hodgepodge- Expect poetry, art, recipes, streams of consciousness, and occasionally some Esperanto if I pick it back up. If you'd like to see only a specific type of post, such as my poetry or recipes, navigate to the "Dossier" tab, and click "Index." Welcome to my tool-drawer! ♥ they/them ♥

[beardedmrbean]

[avant-sad]

Keith Haring - “The Life of Christ”

triptych that serves as an altarpiece in the Interfaith AIDS Chapel at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, which serves as a memorial for those killed by AIDS and a place of refuge for those currently suffering from the disease. Keith Haring’s last piece before his own death from AIDS.

[bisquette]

Gorgeous picture my partner snapped of our adorable baby kitten, Lacey-Lou, all tangled up in our "tree." Happy Holidays everyone.

[bisquette]

Ihatovo Tomato Soup

Hello everyone! Today, I'll be sharing a very special recipe- The amazing tomato soup I developed for my birthday dinner this year. Inspired by the works of Kenji Miyazawa, the flavor profile is atypical - Leaning more into umami and earthy notes, as opposed to the sweet or acidic notes usually associated with the dish. I hope you try it and enjoy it! I love it most with my partner's apple-cheese tart, but it's also nice with egg popovers, or a humble ham and swiss.

Receipt (US Measurements):

Core Soup:

One jar of sun-dried tomatoes, with the oil.

2 and 1/2 cup diced tomatoes. These can be any mix or variety. My partner and I didn't have enough fresh tomatoes, so we used some cherry tomatoes, as well as some canned San-Marzanos.

2 cups chicken stock

1/2 cup chopped fresh basil (yes it's a lot)

1/2 cup minced garlic (yes it's a lot)

3/4 Tbsp fennel seed

Balsamic vinegar (to taste)

Sour cream (to taste, but at least 1 cup)

Seasoning Mix:

1 tsp clove

1/2 tsp nutmeg

1/2 tsp allspice

1/2 tsp Onion powder

1/2 Tbsp white pepper

1/2 Tbsp Paprika

2 and 1/2 Tbsp Marjoram (the herb)

Feel free to adjust these as you please, as long as you have plenty white pepper, marjoram, and clove.

Method:

Start by pouring a small amount of the oil from the sun-dried tomatoes into your soup pot, and heat. Crack the fennel, wilt the basil, and heat the garlic in the oil. Add the seasoning mix, allowing all spices to mingle. Add the chicken stock. Stir and allow to come to a weak boil. Slowly add the sun-dried tomatoes with the remaining oil, and the diced tomatoes. Bring the soup back up to a weak boil. Stir again, and waft the soup to check for the proper herbal, earthy, slightly beefy scent - It should not smell very acidic at all. If not quite there, add more glove, garlic, and marjoram. Slow cook or cook on low heat 3-4 hours. Once everything is softened, pour the soup into a blender and puree, or use a hand blender. The soup should emulsify, lightening to a beautiful rust color. Transfer the soup back into the pot (if necessary) and test the soup again before adding the balsamic vinegar and sour cream. Add only enough balsamic vinegar and sour cream to get the desired level of acidic accord, though bear in mind it should still be gentler and more savory than your average tomato soup. Serve with more sour cream on the side.

[bisquette]

It often feels like childhood wasn't a period in my life, but more of a place I visited sometimes.

[bisquette]

1/10/24

On the street

I saw the frozen body of a Chickadee Wings tight abreast, legs toward heaven. A perfect specimen Taxidermied by ice.

I trembled then.

I heard the maternal wail of Mother Nature. His little life was taken not by her hand, but from. She had given him everything. Chickadee had no funeral.

I will remember you.

He survived by homunculus hands that fed. Promising life in exchange only for his nature. In the echoes of our own lie, Our hands took his everything.

Maybe next time, Chickadee. (Originally written 1/31/24)

[bisquette]

The Good One

I remember you most in the beautiful moments; The picture frames of fluorescence and plastic couldn't forbear the bubbles of your smile, between the choppy waves of digital dust. Bread for a starving man- Yet then I knew not that I was he.

The water touched my toes as they touched your skies- Down the studs, grazing treasure boxes and window glaze.

The heat of blush, beholding the breathtaking terribleness of freedom I no longer comprehend. Our curly hair like blackened halos in the halogen light, we suspended ourselves as mortal angels, plushly regaled, speaking in tender ways of shallow laughter and unknown dreams. I remember that laugh - The gentle, resinous, jittery tenor of a clarinet in the hands of a shy novice.

The water touched my ankles then, and a rot grew there - Splitting wooden hearts and soiling silken ties. Even the best laid houses fall.

How could I ever blame you? We never touched, yet you loved with all you were given. There were men after you, but they never smiled- so effervescent- like you. They never laughed- lilting- like you. Their crowns never caught the icy phosphors of deprecated light in their wiry perimeters. Our love was painted liberation within a nicho- All I could mourn is you closing it's little tin door before I could burn the image in my mind.

November came - The discovery - The streets flooded and the water took all that I was. Boyhood was over.

Something new and warped has grown from the punky remains, but it will never know again The Good One.

[333desire333]

Be gay, trans and alive

[bisquette]

I am only a woman because society will not allow me to become a god.

[roadkillblvd]

im changing

[longplaidskirt]

wip of eyeball tapestry,

macky 2023

[bisquette]

Untitled

Is Barbette a woman in heaven? Is that who she wished to be? Or was the removal of the illusion What made her truly free? My body is a broken doll, Pieces stitched, sculpted with eyes of others Until I'm not myself at all. A name is useless, a label of a place, purpose, a person. What good does it serve an object Whose sacred self besmirched? Perhaps Barbette is lost forever Broadway's gossamer wings taking his final twirl, His art and pain only quietly noted In some corner of the world.

[bisquette]

Pardonu.

Vivo estas tre malfacila lastatempe, do mi ne povas skribi tro.

Mi aprezas viajn paciencojn.

[bisquette]

La Brilas Ampolon!

Hodiaŭ, mi fine lernis uzi la akuzativon!!

Jes, tio estas malgranda atingo, sed al mi, estas tre speciala, ĉar mi eltrovis ĝin mi mem.

Do, nun, mi trinkos varman teon...!!!

[bisquette]

Mi deziras ke homoj volus aŭskulti al mi. Mi sentas ke miaj vortoj ne valoras. Homoj ŝatas rigardi al mi, sed ne aŭskulti al mi. Do, eble, mi ne parolos dum kelka tempo.

[bisquette]

La Leciono de Cokolado (Denove?)

Do… Mi ne dormis bone. Sed, tio estis ĉar mia telefono ringis tre laŭte en la nokto.

Alie, hodiaŭ estis bona tago. Mi donis ĉokoladon kukon al mia najbaro, ĉar li helpis min kun la akvokondukiloj en mia domo. …Estas multe historoj kun ĉokolado en mia blogo!

[thebonedogs]

embroidering on the felt hmm