Posted by: crispygoldenflaky | March 28, 2010

a long run

I spent most of this morning closing out one of my classes – my poetry class!  I had an oatmeal mess this morning with greek yogurt, peanut butter, agave, and lots of ground flaxseed.  And an yummy apple (finally!).  Sam and I made an HT trip yesterday, which means I can finally break the cycle of taking a bite out of chalky braeburn and throwing it away.  LOVE Fuji apples!

Yesterday, Sam and Stephen wanted to make fried pickles.  And I have never deep fried anything, so it was quite the adventure.  I happened to have buttermilk, cornmeal, and cajun seasoning that I had made for roasted sweet potatoes we made when Shay and Doug came over (sweet paprika, onion salt, garlic, cayenne, black pepper, white pepper, and some other things – look a couple entries down if you want the full deets), so we added the cornmeal and cajun seasoning to water for the dry ingredients and used buttermilk and an egg for the wet ingredients.  They actually turned out pretty good when Sam and Stephen figured out that we should probably turn down the heat because the pickles were coming out black and the apartment was covered in smoke.  Good thing central smoke detectors work.  Nat.

Yesterday, I ran 10 miles.  Ran to Karan’s house and pounded on his door but Karan’s room is in the back and Abel sleeps through anything, so nothing ended up happening.  Then ran to find Konrad, whose voice was DYING and seemed so sad… hopefully his day got better!  Love that family.

alterations of memories
in elementary school,
I had a solo in the choral arrangement of “Both Sides Now”
now Joni Mitchell’s eerily drifting voice
is the one that sympathizes with the wife’s melancholy on “Love Actually”
I still know all the words to the song
but now hearing it conjures up images of adultery and distrust
where trust should be the undisputed, steadying glue of our relationships

in middle school,
my indulgences in half-gallons of Breyer’s with the caramel ribbon
have developed into a hatred for my inability to shut off the sometimes
obscenely barbaric amount of time I spend with my new boyfriends, Ben and Jerry
knowing that each fistful worth of our canoodling
will inevitably end up shaping my thighs

when I was five,
my mama brought home a tub full of beads,
sky blue, yellow, orange, and red,
adenine, thymine, cytosine, and guanine.
The last time I was home, I scoffed at those beads.
What was she thinking not having a fifth color?
What if I wanted to make RNA?
What a useless set of nucleotide beads if you can’t even make RNA.

when I was seventeen,
I tried to convince all my friends that
In reality, there was actually very little we needed to make us happy
The comforting hug of rays of sun on a productive afternoon,
The delicate folds of an origami crane – and the simplicity of origami
The birth of an animal with the touch of finger to paper
they laughed at me and told me I was crazy
but they needed booze, excessive amounts of money, and cutthroat perfectionism
a kind of world that seems sensational and glamorous
something that almost seems worth yearning for.
Folded paper will end up in a landfill anyway.

Sometimes I wonder if change to memories could be reversible
but questioning the irreversibility of memory recall is like
trying to tell my hippocampus that
it would be practical for it to forget
“bows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air”
the extraordinary amount of brain space we use for lyrics is frustrating

love

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