11.5.2022 – then ate flavors so

then ate flavors so
direct every annoyance
just melted away

when you are eating
something like that, then there
are no bad tables

Adapted from the restaurant review, Claud, a Basement Dining Room With Much Higher Aims, by Pete Wells who wrote:

Then I ate. The flavors were so direct, the point of each dish so lucid, that every minor annoyance melted away.

The dish listed on the menu as “Red shrimp, garlic, olive oil” turned out to be a version of Spanish gambas al ajillo that cooked itself. The shrimp had been raw moments earlier, and they hissed in the hot oil that came halfway to the lip of a small cast-iron skillet as their creamy pink flesh turned to bright coral. Once they were gone, I had pieces of good sourdough to dip into the oil, which now tasted of the garlic clove and dried chile that had been shimmying in there all along. When you’re eating something like that, there are no bad tables. And “something like that” applies to almost everything Claud serves.

I want to write:

Then I read. The words were so direct that the flavors were so direct, the point of each dish so lucid, that every minor annoyance melted away.

The words described a dish listed on the menu as “Red shrimp, garlic, olive oil” turned out to be a version of Spanish gambas al ajillo that cooked itself.

The words described shrimp had been raw moments earlier, and they hissed in the hot oil that came halfway to the lip of a small cast-iron skillet as their creamy pink flesh turned to bright coral.

Once the words were gone, I had pieces of good sourdough in my brain to dip into the oil, which now tasted of the garlic clove and dried chile that had been shimmying in there all along in my thoughts.

When you’re reading something like that, there are no bad tables.

And “something like that” applies to almost everything Claud serves as described by Mr. Wells.

Mr. Hemingway wrote something once along the lines that if you could write in such a way that what you wrote about became a part of the conscious memory of the reader, then you were, indeed, a writer.

Most likely I will never eat at Claud.

But I can recall the dish on the menu named Red shrimp, garlic, olive oil as if I ate there yesterday.

11.4.2022 – to world’s end I went

to world’s end I went
in my torment and music
dawned above despair

Adapted from the poem, Secret Music, by Siegfried Sassoon as published in Collected Poems, Faber and Faber Limited, London, 1947.

I keep such music in my brain
No din this side of death can quell;
Glory exulting over pain,
And beauty, garlanded in hell.

My dreaming spirit will not heed
The roar of guns that would destroy
My life that on the gloom can read
Proud-surging melodies of joy.

To the world’s end I went, and found
Death in his carnival of glare;
But in my torment I was crowned,
And music dawned above despair.

Mr. Sassoon was a war poet.

A World War One poet.

A British World War One poet.

According to Wikipedia, one of those poets, whose work combined stark realism and bitter irony with a sense of tragic futility.

Stark realism.

Bitter irony.

Sense of tragic futility.

I recently came across of discussion of the World War One poets that included the observation that the sky had a very prominent role across the body of work of these poets.

The point was made that when you are in a trench 15 feet wide and 15 feet deep, the sky is the only thing you see.

It is easy to imagine how such a view, which combined with stark realism and bitter irony with a sense of tragic futility led to the dark poetry of the war.

The view though, did not create those feelings of stark realism and bitter irony with a sense of tragic futility.

I put it out there that neither did the war nor the war in the trenches, create the feelings of stark realism and bitter irony with a sense of tragic futility.

The war experience most likely put those feelings into bright contrast and made them stand out.

I hear though the words of Mr. Thoreau when he wrote that Most men lead lives of quiet desperation.

All those thoughts together, the quiet desperation, the stark realism, the bitter irony with a sense of tragic futility.

Those thoughts and feelings are there.

I have no answers.

And there are no words.

To the world’s end I went, and found
Death in his carnival of glare;
But in my torment I was crowned,
And music dawned above despair.

Please read my Nephews memorial – click here.

11.3.2022 – it’s individuals

it’s individuals
Coach can do so much – day’s end
we’re individuals

but each got to just
dig down deeper – be better
that’s just what it is

This two stanza haiku (my blog, my rules) is based on a quote from NBA Star Kevin Durant and the situation with the Brooklyn Nets in the ESPN article Mounting losses and controversies: How the Brooklyn Nets devolved into chaos in a matter of weeks by Nick Friedell.

The article explains, “Back inside the practice facility — before the tumultuous 2-5 start, before Simmons’ poor play, before the players-only meeting, before the controversy over his superstar teammate’s social media posts about Alex Jones and an antisemitic movie and book — Durant continues to try to shape the narrative of the coming season.“

The article ends with the quote.

“It’s on the individuals,” Durant said. “Coach can do so much and tell you what to do, but he’s not playing for us.

I know coaching matters, chemistry matters, but at the end of the day we’re individuals.

So we got to do better as individuals, and then we’ll bring that to the group and figure it out.

But each guy’s got to just dig down deeper and just be better.

That’s just what it is.”

There is a post script to the article.

Editor’s note: The Nets fired coach Steve Nash on Monday, after this story published.

That’s just what it is.

11.2.2022 – do not come to the

do not come to the
streets he said, today is the
last day of riots

Quoting Hossein Salami, commander of Iran’s Revolutionary Guards, saying, “Do not come to the streets. Today is the last day of riots.”

From the article:

Iran: Revolutionary Guards chief tells protesters today is last day on streets –
Hossein Salami’s tough language raises fears security forces may be about to intensify crackdown on unrest

“Do not come to the streets. Today is the last day of riots,” commander, Hossein Salami, said in some of the toughest language used in the crisis, which Iran’s clerical leadership blames on its foreign enemies, including Israel and the US.

“This sinister plan, is a plan hatched … in the White House and the Zionist regime,” he said.

The Revolutionary Guards, which report directly to Iran’s supreme leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, have not been deployed since demonstrations began on 16 September. They are an elite force with a track record of crushing dissent.

The article also states that: Iran has been gripped by protests since the death of Mahsa Amini, a 22-year-old Kurdish woman, in the custody of the morality police last month, posing one of the boldest challenges to the clerical leadership since the 1979 revolution.

11.1.2022 – learn the ballistic

learn the ballistic
specifics that happen when
love meets opposite

I listened to the man who lost six (yes, six) members of his family in one instant and then saw people robbing their bodies within seconds.

They were profoundly ordinary people, all luminously eloquent in their pain and loss.

They were an unforgettable lesson in what it is to be human.

I hadn’t expected to report on a murder trial and learn almost everything there is to learn about love.

And perhaps to learn the ballistic specifics of what happens when love meets its opposite.

So writes Robert McLiam Wilson in the article, In a deserted courtroom, the grim details of the Nice atrocity go mostly unnoticed.

So writes Mr. Wilson with such a beautiful use of words in such an ugly story, that I have to stop and take notice of the writing.

I take notice of the writing and I realize I do not recall the event.

Sub headlined, Eighty-six people died in the 2016 tragedy, yet compassion and empathy have become exhausted, I have to admit the incident is there in the back of my mind but with so much in just this past year, let alone back in 2016, it seems that my compassion and empathy have become exhausted.

Not just my compassion and empathy but everything.

The article opens with this paragraph, In Paris, a trial is taking place concerning the 14 July 2016 attack in Nice when a man drove a truck into a crowd of families attending a firework display. The three-month trial, due to end in early December, is of eight associates of Mohamed Lahouaiej-Bouhlel accused of assisting him in the attack, when a 19-tonne cargo truck was deliberately driven into people celebrating Bastille Day on the Promenade des Anglais. A total of 86 people were killed, including 15 children. More than 450 were injured. You’d think it would be a big deal. You would be wrong.

So much, too much going on that I’d think it would be a big deal.

That this event would stand out.

That I would remember.

And I am so wrong.