May 27, 2009

Big steps

Had another marvelous weekend in Grand Rapids. Weather was beautiful, got in thirty-six holes of golf, played some good poker at Soaring Eagle, observed sister's college graduation, ate well, travelled easy. ConGRaDulations LVD.

san chez tapasAt San Chez tapas restaurant on Fulton Street. A fine, if not over-indulgent, meal. Here's shots of a few courses:

goat/heirloomHeirloom tomato salad with goat cheese.

stuffed poblanoStuffed poblano pepper with raspberry salsa. I want to eat this every day.

ginger tunaGinger tuna.

May 26, 2009

Mmmm, thirty-rock

Tracy Jordan: I'm going to make you a mix tape. Do you like Phil Collins?
Jack Donaghy: I've got two ears and a heart, don't I?

thirty rock
best show out..... photo: paris street apartment

May 17, 2009

Pizza one

Ingredients: garlic, onion, artichoke heart, broccoli, jalapeño, roasted red pepper, chèvre, olive oil, parmigiano-reggiano, crust from the Sbarro at the Concord Mall.

May 15, 2009


Last week Alex Cejka (chay-ka) was leading The Players Championship by five strokes going into the final round. He wore all black to the Stadium at TPC Sawgrass on Sunday, playing under a hot Florida sun, which prompted this statement from NBC commentator Johnny Miller,
"Well, you've got to suffer a little bit in golf."

Cejka shot seven-over-par, finishing in a tie for ninth place.

It reminded me of a PGA promo commercial from a couple years ago. It had a vintage motif; a stylistic montage of famous heartbreaking moments. The words "Love" and "Hate" emerged in vintage, sylistic fonts amongst the gut-wrenching medley. The last clip was a moment of pure crystalline redemption, Payne Stewart winning the 1999 U.S. Open, followed by the text,

Golf is a four letter word.

May 13, 2009

1800 cocktail

1800 cocktail
1800 Tequlia, lemon juice, gomme syrup, dash of Tanqueray Rangpur (lime) gin, club soda (seltzer). Shake with ice, pour over rocks, add soda, admire, consume.

May 12, 2009

The wall, part two

the wall 2

Ingredients: Pennsylvania fieldstone, crushed gravel, landscape fabric, ibuprofen.....

The Lego Days
Spar Cove Rock Balancing
Brandywine Creek State Park
ENGR 305: Mechanics of Materials

May 11, 2009

Me vs. me vs. them


Phil Hellmuth is lucky, his talent compensates for his personality. Most of us just have the bad attitude, sans eleven World Series of Poker bracelets.

I wish for my potential to be recognized, my persona forgotten.

Never think, "I deserve better" - you don't. Only, employ the traits assigned to you with a heart for the world, of which you are but an infinitesimal agent.

May 10, 2009

The wall, part one

Dry-stacked stone retaining wall being built for garden bed alongside house, more to come - eventually. Happy Mothers Day.

the wall 1

May 9, 2009

Phillies vs. Braves

phillies vs. braves
Citizens Bank Park, Section 416, 09 May 2009, 3:35 start, L: 2-6, pic'd: Davy C

May 7, 2009

Rolling stone

Sisyphus is the absurd hero.

One does not discover the absurd
without attempting to prescribe

Does realization of the absurdity
of man's state require suicide?

"No. It requires revolt."

The Myth of Sisyphus
by Albert Camus

The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They had thought with some reason that there is no more dreadful punishment than futile and hopeless labor.

If one believes Homer, Sisyphus was the wisest and most prudent of mortals. According to another tradition, however, he was disposed to practice the profession of highwayman. I see no contradiction in this. Opinions differ as to the reasons why he became the futile laborer of the underworld. To begin with, he is accused of a certain levity in regard to the gods. He stole their secrets. Egina, the daughter of Esopus, was carried off by Jupiter. The father was shocked by that disappearance and complained to Sisyphus. He, who knew of the abduction, offered to tell about it on condition that Esopus would give water to the citadel of Corinth. To the celestial thunderbolts he preferred the benediction of water. He was punished for this in the underworld. Homer tells us also that Sisyphus had put Death in chains. Pluto could not endure the sight of his deserted, silent empire. He dispatched the god of war, who liberated Death from the hands of her conqueror.

It is said that Sisyphus, being near to death, rashly wanted to test his wife's love. He ordered her to cast his unburied body into the middle of the public square. Sisyphus woke up in the underworld. And there, annoyed by an obedience so contrary to human love, he obtained from Pluto permission to return to earth in order to chastise his wife. But when he had seen again the face of this world, enjoyed water and sun, warm stones and the sea, he no longer wanted to go back to the infernal darkness. Recalls, signs of anger, warnings were of no avail. Many years more he lived facing the curve of the gulf, the sparkling sea, and the smiles of earth. A decree of the gods was necessary. Mercury came and seized the impudent man by the collar and, snatching him from his joys, lead him forcibly back to the underworld, where his rock was ready for him.

You have already grasped that Sisyphus is the absurd hero. He is, as much through his passions as through his torture. His scorn of the gods, his hatred of death, and his passion for life won him that unspeakable penalty in which the whole being is exerted toward accomplishing nothing. This is the price that must be paid for the passions of this earth. Nothing is told us about Sisyphus in the underworld. Myths are made for the imagination to breathe life into them. As for this myth, one sees merely the whole effort of a body straining to raise the huge stone, to roll it, and push it up a slope a hundred times over; one sees the face screwed up, the cheek tight against the stone, the shoulder bracing the clay-covered mass, the foot wedging it, the fresh start with arms outstretched, the wholly human security of two earth-clotted hands. At the very end of his long effort measured by skyless space and time without depth, the purpose is achieved. Then Sisyphus watches the stone rush down in a few moments toward tlower world whence he will have to push it up again toward the summit. He goes back down to the plain.

It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me. A face that toils so close to stones is already stone itself! I see that man going back down with a heavy yet measured step toward the torment of which he will never know the end. That hour like a breathing-space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.

If this myth is tragic, that is because its hero is conscious. Where would his torture be, indeed, if at every step the hope of succeeding upheld him? The workman of today works everyday in his life at the same tasks, and his fate is no less absurd. But it is tragic only at the rare moments when it becomes conscious. Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of during his descent. The lucidity that was to constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory. There is no fate that can not be surmounted by scorn.

If the descent is thus sometimes performed in sorrow, it can also take place in joy. This word is not too much. Again I fancy Sisyphus returning toward his rock, and the sorrow was in the beginning. When the images of earth cling too tightly to memory, when the call of happiness becomes too insistent, it happens that melancholy arises in man's heart: this is the rock's victory, this is the rock itself. The boundless grief is too heavy to bear. These are our nights of Gethsemane. But crushing truths perish from being acknowledged. Thus, Edipus at the outset obeys fate without knowing it. But from the moment he knows, his tragedy begins. Yet at the same moment, blind and desperate, he realizes that the only bond linking him to the world is the cool hand of a girl. Then a tremendous remark rings out: "Despite so many ordeals, my advanced age and the nobility of my soul make me conclude that all is well." Sophocles' Edipus, like Dostoevsky's Kirilov, thus gives the recipe for the absurd victory. Ancient wisdom confirms modern heroism.

One does not discover the absurd without being tempted to write a manual of happiness. "What!---by such narrow ways--?" There is but one world, however. Happiness and the absurd are two sons of the same earth. They are inseparable. It would be a mistake to say that happiness necessarily springs from the absurd. Discovery. It happens as well that the felling of the absurd springs from happiness. "I conclude that all is well," says Edipus, and that remark is sacred. It echoes in the wild and limited universe of man. It teaches that all is not, has not been, exhausted. It drives out of this world a god who had come into it with dissatisfaction and a preference for futile suffering. It makes of fate a human matter, which must be settled among men.

All Sisyphus' silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is a thing. Likewise, the absurd man, when he contemplates his torment, silences all the idols. In the universe suddenly restored to its silence, the myriad wondering little voices of the earth rise up. Unconscious, secret calls, invitations from all the faces, they are the necessary reverse and price of victory. There is no sun without shadow, and it is essential to know the night. The absurd man says yes and his efforts will henceforth be unceasing. If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny, or at least there is, but one which he concludes is inevitable and despicable. For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days. At that subtle moment when man glances backward over his life, Sisyphus returning toward his rock, in that slight pivoting he contemplates that series of unrelated actions which become his fate, created by him, combined under his memory's eye and soon sealed by his death. Thus, convinced of the wholly human origin of all that is human, a blind man eager to see who knows that the night has no end, he is still on the go. The rock is still rolling.

I leave Sisyphus at the foot of the mountain! One always finds one's burden again. But Sisyphus teaches the higher fidelity that negates the gods and raises rocks. He too concludes that all is well. This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

The Myth of Sisyphus
by Albert Camus

May 6, 2009

Yard golf


May 4, 2009

Raw material

recipe for survival, active ingredients, and the blender of the absurd

note the sexist aesthetic of the ladies home journal flour tin. what - and how - one eats identifies the person. renegade baking explodes frozen genderization.

the active ingredients pictured here were for two separate recipes, but why not an apple-squash-parsnip-bacon pie?

May 2, 2009

Morning initiative

red fox
spring rain
black crow
neil young
mossy hush
gentle drizzle
casual trot
attentive aware
pause linger
move along

red stem dogwood

May 1, 2009

Celebrity kitchens

Last night we had the opportunity to sit-in on Celebrity Kitchens. This local enterprise brings top chefs from around the region to prepare a meal for a small group of guests. Very personal and interactive.

The format was similar to a televised cooking show. Yesterday's chef (Rehobeth Beach restauranteur Jay Caputo) assembled four courses for us while answering questions and demonstrating techniques. There was even a (small) monitor displaying the view from above the range.
  • Porcini Mushroom Soup with Grilled Scallions
  • Arugula & Fennel Salad with Blue Cheese Emulsion
  • Clams & Mussels Risotto with Chorizo Sausage
  • Meyer Lemon Tart with Marinated Berries

My first Celebrity Kitchens experience - ★★★★ - highly recommended.