heinekencarolinabrick

Don’t think that I am unbothered by my lack of communication.
Even I get tired of these loose threads.
Puzzled by the way the dusk push a lifeless trolley slowly thru a corridor
then close the door behind it.
I resist finding anything in the finishing darkness, the collecting clouds.
I wait.
This frozen time once flowed like water.
Enthusiastically I can wait with my iPod.

Don’t think that I am unbothered not to be able to take time or think clearly.
A single drop of water repeats its mantra, effortlessly.
Don’t think I don’t want to picture gardens,
hanging trees and cherry blossom buds, while drinking a Tamaryokucha tea.
Tea into water, water into tea.
Time into water waits effortlessly.
Old tradition circling in the cup manifest itself on my coffee table
with the settled dust and 3 remote controls.
I wait.
Enthusiastically I can wait with the Tamaryokucha.

Don’t think I am not prepared to take flight to relatively clear time.
Even I can see how it replicated; this hammering, chaotically settling in my brain.
I find the amateur attempt of power lines invading the sky a charming companion.
Like a wire nest.
Eleven past eleven; frozen time once flowed like water.
I only say what I do not know.
I wish I can suspend in a room with an open window.
Or say something fearful.
I wish I can rotate in mid air; fleeting light enters my eyelids.
I wish I can wait there; part me, effortlessly.

Don’t think that I have not read Viktor Frankl or One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich.
Don’t think Aria de Capo doesn’t bring me close to collapse.
Do not think I don’t want to establish fine conclusion, breathe deeply and left an audience impressed. Do not think that I am not tired of explaining.
Sitting on the bench watching the rain patterns and the slight cracks
I don't find the finer fabric connecting the black lines.
It stretches but forlorn alongside a worn out sky.
It is the physical growing absence of light as the planets circle that interests me.
The unease and the tolerant expectation of earth when clouds cross;
How I wait for it to collect and turn into water.
A single drop of water keeps its surface effortlessly.
The abstract coming into being of shadows and line,
the paced interrogation I assert on it.
I wait. Enthusiastic I can wait with my camera.
Enthusiastically like a crane circling a vacant lot.

Sunday morning breakfast! Soft-boiled egg, English muffin, coffee courtesy Chemex (in the back). Egg cup is pretty but of the breed of egg cups I really don't like: Easter temporary. I think we are supposed to just put them out as table decorations filled with jelly beans, because even gentle hand-washing flakes the paint right off the rim.

Hey! This is the first appearance on Flickr of the Revol coffee cup and saucer from my folks for my birthday! I think she's a beauty! Thanks again!

Irma's first recipe for tomato juice is the real deal: it starts with 12 medium sized fresh tomatoes. Unfortunately for me, the farmers market is full of cherry tomatoes at this time of year, so I had to buy them full price in the grocery store. I had wonderful neighbors bring me five or six at the last minute, but even so, 1 1/4 quarts of tomato juice made this way cost almost $8.00. Was it worth it? Ohhhh, yeahhhh.... Very light, bright, and perfect consistency. Irma uses a mixture of tomatoes, onion and celery and herbs simmered together and then forced through a strainer. Chill thoroughly and you have a little bit of heaven at breakfast. Truly. If you can find reasonably-priced real tomatoes this fall, try this recipe.

Irma, by-the-way, offers this and the tomato juice-based recipes that follow for "those who wish to appear convivial" at cocktail parties without drinking alcohol! I have to say, it perked me up!