Sunday, June 29, 2008

Sundays
It used to be that Saturday was my favourite day of the week but I think I've changed my mind. It must have something to do with the omniscient thought that all this glory is going to end in just a matter of time. Tomorrow I will have to work. Its sort of like a great love story that comes once a week. You know how when a love is over, you always wish that you'd cherished it just a little bit more, argued less, treasured the stupid and seemingly insignificant but beautiful moments because in the end, those are the things you remember? Three weeks from now I won't remember that I cleaned the guest bedroom today or that I watched 3:10 to Yuma at 1:00 am this morning. No, I will remember the feta-infused pasta salad I made today, the hazelnut coffee that I consumed too much of, the angrily hungover texts I'm getting from Kristina in Chicago (for that matter, I'll remember that I thankfully do not have a hangover), the music I download today will become permanent memories, the books; oh the books I read will stick with me like all these other little things. I like catching myself in moments when I realize I am truly happy.
image: James Merrell
The Books: this morning, post brushing of teeth and washing of face, I made coffee and then hurled the massive array of books I'm currently devouring onto my unmade and disheveled bed. The erroneous pile looked like this: I say erroneous because this pile can only be (at least in part) described as mistaken. Let's begin with the 100 Best Poems of All Time. When I found this in the library I turned to one page and since that page was in the middle of the book and not at the front where the contents are, I truly thought because I did not recognize that poem or that writer that this book was gonna be different. Sadly, it was the same old thing. You know what I mean: Ode to a Grecian Urn, The Raven, and some mildly depressing thing by Sylvia Plath. Its redeeming qualities were Harlem by Langston Hughes, Still I Rise by Maya Angelou, and To Jeoffry His Cat by Christopher Smart. However, sadly I have previously read and dissected all of these before. Then, I came across this:
About Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:-
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the presence in the room he said,
"What writest thou?" - The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still; and said, "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."
The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.
Isn't that lovely? Leigh Hunt gets created for that one.
Anyway, on to my other stories. So that whole Mystical Life of Jesus thing was crap. You see it was written by that psychic that used to be on Montel Williams show. I know I know, I should have known better. I didn't think she was going to give me some divine word from God or anything, I just thought her outlook would be a little interesting. But I tell you this now, the woman may be sweet, she may be clairvoyant (whatever that actually is), she might even really love God with all her heart (I'm not judging that) however, her "spirit guide" Francine really freaks me out. I got about 1/2 way through this one and literally thought that if I read one more line I was going to have to change my name to Delilah, rap my head in a silk scarf turban, buy a caravan and a crystal ball and start charging my friends for the advice that I give even when they don't ask for it. So I put it down. I immediately felt less crazy than I had only moments before.
But then I picked up Anthony Bourdain's Kitchen Confidential. Guys, I have to tell you: I have the biggest crush ever on this man:
image: found here
Seriously, his wit is contagious. I feel myself writing better than I have for ages just because I have his sarcastic jolts in my head as I type (feel free to burst my bubble though). No, really, I love him so very much. Who else could crack me up with a line like this: "With all the rock and roll, good stuff to eat and high-explosives at hand, I was reasonably happy". I'm on page 41 and I had to force it out of the explosive grip of my own hands so that I could actually get something done today.
But then I picked this up:
image: amazon
The sad part about this is that I've already finished it. Listen, I DIDN'T REMEMBER FINISHING IT! Once I started trying to find the doggy-eared page that I'd last read and got really confused, I went to the very last page and it dawned on me that not only had I completed this novel, but I'd even blogged about it! This is not a good sign guys. Not a good sign for this book at all. I do not recommend.
However, I finished it. Which is more than what I can say for that Soul Mates thing that you saw in the first picture.
Next comes this delightful book:
This one you just must must must picked up. I actually sneaked a peak at my friend Kate's house a few months ago and it really is simply lovely. I feel like such less of a dope reading this than I would had I actually purchased The Idiot's Guide to Sewing. Plus, in this book they teach you how to make sassy aprons like this:
In addition, they also teach you how to torture your children by making the headdresses that look like this:
You think I could make one for a dog too? Buster would look hilariously stupid in this cap, don't you think?
Ok, now that I've contained my laughter I must urge you to read Becoming Jane Austen. It is a lovely autobiography that the movie Becoming Jane was based on. Also, if you haven't seen the movie you must watch it TODAY! I'm not kidding. Perfection it was - James McAvoy perfection.
images: wikipedia and people
No need to assert to you people that I'm in love with this man as well. I actually don't think he could be more perfect if he tried. I take that back, he could have convinced the director of Atonement to make that library scene last a little longer, but I'll forgive him for that just now. Mostly, he deserves my forgiveness because I think he looks like a young version of this man:

image: Cindy Pearlman
I should note here that 3:10 to Yuma was FABULOUS!
Ok, so I'm off now to clean more of the disastrous apartment. I might even make some more pistachio pudding today, resulting in heavenly photographs like this:
I leave you with wisdom from Maya:
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Have a glorious Sunday!

3 comments:

Ashley L. said...

i love that first picture! what cute cooking utensils! :)

Kristin said...

Is there nothing worse than investing time in a book only to find that it's awful? I just finished "The Birth House" by Ami McKay. Loved it. And I think you might too.

Brilliant Asylum said...

Bourdain always has me running for a pen to record his witty sayings on No Reservations.