Poetographi

One of my photos with poetry, almost every day.

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There is such a thing as catastrophic longing . . . 

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sick

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For me, a rose is an insurrection . . .

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“Blackest Day”

Give me all, got my blue nail polish on It's my favorite color and my favorite tone of song I don't really wanna break up, we got it going on It's what you gathered from my talk, but you were wrong It's not easy for me to talk about A half-life in lost dreams And not simple, it's trigonometry It's hard to express I can't explain

Ever since my baby went away It's been the blackest day, it's been the blackest day All I hear is Billie Holiday It's all that I play

It's all that I playBecause I'm going deeper and deeper Harder and harder Getting darker and darker Looking for love In all the wrong places Oh my god In all the wrong places Oh my god

Carry me home, got my new car and my gun Wind in my hair, holding your hand, listen to a song Carry me home, don't wanna talk about the things to come Just put your hands up in the air, the radio on 'Cause there's nothing for us to talk about Like the future and those things 'Cause there's nothing for me to think about Now that he's gone, I can't feel nothing

Ever since my baby went away It's been the blackest day, it's been the blackest day All I hear is Billie Holiday It's all that I play It's all that I play

Because I'm going deeper and deeper Harder and harder Getting darker and darker Looking for love In all the wrong places Oh my god In all the wrong places Oh my god You should've known better Than to have to let her Get you under her spell of the weather I got you where I want you You did it, I never I'm falling for forever I'm dying again since I got you where I want you I got you, I got you I got you where I want you now

Ever since my baby went away It's been the blackest day, it's been the blackest day All I hear is Billie Holiday It's all that I play It's all that I play

It's not one of those phases I'm going through Or just a song, it's no one else's I'm on my own On my own On my own again I'm on my own again I'm on my own again I'm on my own again I'm on my own again

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Still Waiting. #pascalcampion

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it’s not how, but when we remember what we have lost

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I haven’t posted anything in a while for the simple reason that I’ve been locked out of my own account for a while. I contacted Tumblr to try to get access to my account and it was a total nightmare. I was finally able to get back into my account this morning

That said, thought I might post a bit of winter magic

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Lighting Our Jack O’ Lanterns :)

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“Metaphysical”

In Canada today visiting Niagara Falls.

The first time I went to Niagara Falls was with my boyfriend Luke 15 years ago. Still blown away by the feeling you get when you first see these two falls. It feels like I’m being confronted with the Wordsworthian sublime. In Romantic discourse, “sublime” is a way of describing one’s confrontation with something that is both awe inspiring, but also frightening because of the sheer size and force. For Romantic poets, the sublime is a way of speaking about a metaphysical experience in nature—of something that is beyond religious, and has careened dangerously into the mystical.

I only have this kind of feeling when I’m looking up at a Skyscraper in San Francisco or looking down at the Grand Canyon in Arizona. I also get it looking at massive rocks in Yosemite like Half Dome. It occurred to me today, that Niagara Falls is one of the few natural places where you can be confronted with the sublime.

I took this photo of the Horseshoe Falls after twilight tonight.  

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The fire of early fall

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I’m not sure where to start this post except to address the obvious, which is that I’ve posted a bunch of photos of food. Why did I do this? Well, I’m not sure why except to say that I made a promise to myself that I was going to start cooking and eating better this year, not just for myself, but my children.

I’m good at a lot of things, but cooking has never been one of them. There was even a family joke about the fact I’m a bad cook. Like, “Oh Lynn, she’ll burn water” kinda stuff. And yes I’ve burned a lot of things J And I’m actually a vegetarian who really despises vegetables. So there are just not a lot of options for me.

But here’s the deal. I never really tried to be a good cook. Eating was always my thing. I didn’t want to make food, I just wanted to eat it. My twin sister’s partner is a former chef. And he always tells everyone how much he likes to cook for me because I just love eating what he makes and I am so enthusiastic about it.

But this year, I asked myself this question: Is it true—I mean really true—that I’m bad at cooking? I decided to find out the answer to this question. So I committed to making 2 or 3 homemade meals a week. I started this back in January but I didn’t start to think about the fact I should be documenting what I make with my camera until April. So these photos represent some of the homemade meals I cooked for my family for dinner since that time. The complete list I provide below

And I guess I should report that the answer is no, I’m not bad at cooking. In fact, I’m rather decent at it. Sure I started out a bit wobbly. And I even burned a few dishes. But as each week progressed, I actually saw myself getting better at it. Instead of waiting for others to make me food, I’m now making my own food and savoring it. And I’m happy to report that although I started this as an experiment to see just how bad I was at cooking, I learned something about myself in the process which is this: that I really do love making stuff that nourishes the people I love. It’s actually quite bizarre. I have this crazy feeling when I get home from work and I stand in the kitchen while my kids play for over an hour and half cooking them something that I know will make them happy, healthy and strong. I just love, love, love doing this now. I love making art for them to consume.  I love the way their eyes light up with pleasure when they taste something or the way they say “Thank you mommy. This is really good!”  I love it when they start racing each other to see who can eat it all first and ask for seconds.

So anyway, this post is really about self-redefinition. When we’re children, our parents label us. (And sometimes we label ourselves) And with those labels, they place limits on who we are and who we can grow to be. I was told I was an “intellectual” and my mom frowned upon any activity I did that was remotely domestic. I somehow felt I would be dishonoring my mother not only if I had children, but if I started really caring about being a mom or being a great mother. And all of that is just stupid. Really effing stupid.  As a mom, I get so much pleasure making food for my children. So I’m going to say it at the risk of upsetting my mom: I love to cook now! Woo hoo. I said it J And I’m not going to let other people’s labels continue to define me or limit me.

So I ask you? Is there something you always thought you couldn’t do and wanted to do? Then do it. Do it today. Is there something you always wanted to get better at, but never have the time? Why not start practicing now? It’s never too late to grow—to continue to fill your potential and become the person you were meant to be. Lately when I have those small moments of contentment it’s because I am continuing to grow and this growth allows me to feel delight again, the kind of pure delight I had when I was a child.

So sorry this was a long post, but, well, it really was about something much larger than cooking. Thanks for bearing with me. Also I apologize that the photos are so bad. After cooking for an hour, you just don’t feel like plating and staging :(

Here is the complete list of vegetarian meals I’ve made or at least can remember making:

Vadouvan-Spiced Parsnip Soup with Homedae Croutons & Greek Yogurt

Apple & Blue Cheese Panzanella Salad with Smashed Purple Potatoes

Broccolini & Goat Cheese Polenta with Soft Boiled Eggs & Red Onion Jam

Curried Cauliflower Steaks with Black Rice & Thais Basil

Butternut Squash & Poblano Chili with Toasted Pepitas & Charred Lime

Baked Jerk Tofu & Smashed Plantains with Garlic-Ginger Collard Greens

 Winter Squash & Baby Kale Quesadillas with Queso Oaxaca & Suny Side Up Eggs

Three Cheese Calzones with Kale & Tomato Sauce

White Pizza with Baked Eggs & Angula-Brussel Sprout Salad

Red Quinoa & Black Bean Enchiladas with Roasted Tomatillo Salsa Verde

 Fresh Fettucine Past with Porcini Mushroom Bolognese

Falafel Pitas & Tzatiziki with Pea Shoot Salad

Fontina & Preserved Lemon Grilled Cheese Sandwiches with Endive, Clementine & Mint Salad

Fresh Soba Noodle Salad with Asparagus, Cucumber & Soft Boiled Eggs

Brown Butter Gnocchi with Summer Squash, Almonds & Soft Boiled Eggs

Enchiladas Suizas with Summer Squash, Poblano Pepper & Creamy Salsa Verde

Green Shakshuka with Eight Ball Squash & Spiced Pita Chips

Summer Bean & Goat Cheese Panzanella with Garlic Croutons & Toasted Pistachios

Spinach Pesto Gnocci with Sautéed Asparagus & Brown Butter

Summer Squash Tempura Tacos with Pickled Red Onion & Cucumber Jalapeno Salsa

Mushroom & Potato Pizza with Fontina Cheese, Spinach & Garlic Oil

Grilled Brie Cheese & Strawberry Jam Sandwiches with Arugula & Walnut Salad

Zucchini & Parmesan Quiches with Red Leaf Lettuce Salad & Pink Lemon Vinagrette

Huevos rancheros Quesadillas with Tomatillo Salsa & sunny Side-Up Eggs

Singapore Curry Noodles with Snow Peas & Yellow Squash

Potato & English Pea Samosas with Saag & Cilantro Chutney

Greek Pizza with Kalamata Olives, Feta & Pea tips

Cheese Enchiladas Rojas with Mixed Mushrooms & Spinach

Vadouvan Chickpea Burgers with Roasted Sweet Potatoes Rounds & Yogurt Sauce

Cavatappi Pasta & Arugula Pesto with Summer Squash & Ricotta Salata

Fried Green Tomato Sandwiches with Aioli & Potato Salad

Romaine, Potato & Zucchini Salad with Buttermilk Dressing & Goat Cheese toast

Asparagus & Arugula Pesto Pizza with Pink Lemon Ricotta

Spicy Vegetable Tteokbokki with Asparagus, Soft Boiled Eggs & Ginger Cashews

Creamy Lemon Pasta with English Peas, Mint & Garlic Breadcrumbs

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Together, by the sea

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Masquerade party

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Bent but not broken

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do not forget the small things

for there is solace in silence

and sanctity in self-reflection

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In spring, there is a path to all things . . .