Dark rooms and blue flames;
catching pre-morning shadows
and some strange blessings.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Friday, January 28, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Bike Haiku 2, and Reflection
Rupture, tear, puncture;
hiccups, snap, and broken chains:
Learn patient lessons.
Revised (26 Jan 2011):
Puncture, tear, split chain;
learning these patient lessons:
Patch, splice, replace, mend.
~
I think of Brazil and the "bad spirit" I had on my shoulder at every turn. Things are not so bad and, at least, I do not have to argue for the pertinence of transdisciplinary study. Learning maintenance for my bike has also demanded a practice of patience, attention, and responsivity. It has its costs, but I still want to smile at the motorists who think themselves wiser. I wonder: Do they think I'm poor? Without a car? Silly or crazy? Perhaps someday we'll be "mad as motorists" rather than "mad as hatters;" of course, I think most consider me a mad biker these days.
Yesterday, a nice young woman stopped her car at a Lake Mary Road intersection. Late Mary is often a fast-paced road and causes me a some consternation. She slowed and I glanced toward the car. She gave me a smile and a thumbs up. The gesture, small and corteous but apparently enthusiastic, has stuck with me. Especially on that road motorists feel entitled to drive however they wish; that, I suppose, is true which ever road you're on. Cyclists have a lane on Lake Mary, but few need to stay on it for long and many bike on the left shoulder to get into the awkwardly situated neighborhood in which I live. Though not inappropriate, I object because it is narrow in parts and it can confuse other cyclists, pedestrians, and motorists. I think that this young woman was sharing the road well, not just spatially, but mentally as well; a behavior for which I am thankful.
Biking, I am always learning lessons. On one's bike, one is open to the world, uninsulated. Even in the morning when I am all bundled up, I have to pay keen attention to early morning walkers and joggers, the occasional homeless person, the unlit cyclist, the overconfident or groggy driver. Riding in the cold, especially where the temperature changes so drastically, means consideration of only what I need to wear but also what I will need to wear in the early afternoon, the warmest part of the day. I think of work and study and leisure. Though I do not discourage my totemic raven, I often call myself a turtle - thinking fondly of a story of two friends, then in love, speaking in Spanish ("tortuga") to a young boy in the New York City Subway - as I unfurl all my apparent belongings, rearrange, repack, unload, deliver, and utilize them. A turtle on wheels, a raven hovering overhead, a loaf of bread and book near-at-hand.
hiccups, snap, and broken chains:
Learn patient lessons.
Revised (26 Jan 2011):
Puncture, tear, split chain;
learning these patient lessons:
Patch, splice, replace, mend.
~
I think of Brazil and the "bad spirit" I had on my shoulder at every turn. Things are not so bad and, at least, I do not have to argue for the pertinence of transdisciplinary study. Learning maintenance for my bike has also demanded a practice of patience, attention, and responsivity. It has its costs, but I still want to smile at the motorists who think themselves wiser. I wonder: Do they think I'm poor? Without a car? Silly or crazy? Perhaps someday we'll be "mad as motorists" rather than "mad as hatters;" of course, I think most consider me a mad biker these days.
Yesterday, a nice young woman stopped her car at a Lake Mary Road intersection. Late Mary is often a fast-paced road and causes me a some consternation. She slowed and I glanced toward the car. She gave me a smile and a thumbs up. The gesture, small and corteous but apparently enthusiastic, has stuck with me. Especially on that road motorists feel entitled to drive however they wish; that, I suppose, is true which ever road you're on. Cyclists have a lane on Lake Mary, but few need to stay on it for long and many bike on the left shoulder to get into the awkwardly situated neighborhood in which I live. Though not inappropriate, I object because it is narrow in parts and it can confuse other cyclists, pedestrians, and motorists. I think that this young woman was sharing the road well, not just spatially, but mentally as well; a behavior for which I am thankful.
Biking, I am always learning lessons. On one's bike, one is open to the world, uninsulated. Even in the morning when I am all bundled up, I have to pay keen attention to early morning walkers and joggers, the occasional homeless person, the unlit cyclist, the overconfident or groggy driver. Riding in the cold, especially where the temperature changes so drastically, means consideration of only what I need to wear but also what I will need to wear in the early afternoon, the warmest part of the day. I think of work and study and leisure. Though I do not discourage my totemic raven, I often call myself a turtle - thinking fondly of a story of two friends, then in love, speaking in Spanish ("tortuga") to a young boy in the New York City Subway - as I unfurl all my apparent belongings, rearrange, repack, unload, deliver, and utilize them. A turtle on wheels, a raven hovering overhead, a loaf of bread and book near-at-hand.
Maple-Pumpkin Muffin Cookies
This is much delayed. I made these for my birthday dinner a month and a half ago. Either way, here is a pretty tasty - a nice balance of savory and sweet - recipe. They may have turned out muffin-y because of the high altitude; adjust leavening as needed.
Maple-Pumpkin Muffin Cookies
2 cups creamed, baked pumpkin (can use canned or alternative squash)
1 tsp nutmeg
1 Tbsp cinnamon
1 tsp dry, ground ginger
Mix together in an electric mixer. If given to you by your mother, they'll turn out even better.
1 c butter, cut into small cubes
1 c maple syrup (or honey, if maple syrup is out of the question, can augment with extract)
1 egg
1/2 c honey
1 tsp vanilla or almond extract
Add to mixture and blend until smooth.
2 c white flour
1 c whole wheat pastry flour
1 tsp salt (omit or half if butter is salted)
1 c thick oats
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tbsp baking powder
In a separate bowl, mix dry ingredients and then gradually blend into pumpkin mixture.
1 c chopped pecans (optional)
1 c diced apple or pear (optional)
These ingredients may be altered or omitted if prefered.
Stir in by hand. Spoon onto lightly greased baking sheet. These bake nicely as larger cookies or as very small cookies depending on batch needed; makes about two to four dozen depending on size. Bake at 375 F for 13-15 minutes, until lightly browned. Note: Honey and syrup like to burn, so use an insulated pan or bake on one rack with an insulating tray immediately below to prevent blackened bottoms.
The leftover dough froze wonderfully and provided a great morning sweet when I got around to baking some of the leftovers. One can also make a sweeter cookie by adding a 1/4 cup of sugar or slightly more honey.
~~~
Also, I have been baking biscuits in the morning. Yes, mornings before I go to the bakery. I am working out a roughshod recipe, but have not had buttermilk around because I am actively moving. Once settled again, expect to hear about a buttermilk-cornmeal biscuit recipe sooner or later (within two weeks). I have access to fantastic blue cornmeal from the CSA store and can often find buttermilk on discount. I also want to start culturing kefir and yogurt once I've moved, especially with the fantastic kefir starter gift from my brother and sister(-in-law). Expect posts of such exploits as well.
Maple-Pumpkin Muffin Cookies
2 cups creamed, baked pumpkin (can use canned or alternative squash)
1 tsp nutmeg
1 Tbsp cinnamon
1 tsp dry, ground ginger
Mix together in an electric mixer. If given to you by your mother, they'll turn out even better.
1 c butter, cut into small cubes
1 c maple syrup (or honey, if maple syrup is out of the question, can augment with extract)
1 egg
1/2 c honey
1 tsp vanilla or almond extract
Add to mixture and blend until smooth.
2 c white flour
1 c whole wheat pastry flour
1 tsp salt (omit or half if butter is salted)
1 c thick oats
2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tbsp baking powder
In a separate bowl, mix dry ingredients and then gradually blend into pumpkin mixture.
1 c chopped pecans (optional)
1 c diced apple or pear (optional)
These ingredients may be altered or omitted if prefered.
Stir in by hand. Spoon onto lightly greased baking sheet. These bake nicely as larger cookies or as very small cookies depending on batch needed; makes about two to four dozen depending on size. Bake at 375 F for 13-15 minutes, until lightly browned. Note: Honey and syrup like to burn, so use an insulated pan or bake on one rack with an insulating tray immediately below to prevent blackened bottoms.
The leftover dough froze wonderfully and provided a great morning sweet when I got around to baking some of the leftovers. One can also make a sweeter cookie by adding a 1/4 cup of sugar or slightly more honey.
~~~
Also, I have been baking biscuits in the morning. Yes, mornings before I go to the bakery. I am working out a roughshod recipe, but have not had buttermilk around because I am actively moving. Once settled again, expect to hear about a buttermilk-cornmeal biscuit recipe sooner or later (within two weeks). I have access to fantastic blue cornmeal from the CSA store and can often find buttermilk on discount. I also want to start culturing kefir and yogurt once I've moved, especially with the fantastic kefir starter gift from my brother and sister(-in-law). Expect posts of such exploits as well.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Nicolai: My Nishiki
[I plan on posting pictures taken with my phone at a soon but later time.]
A few months back I bought a used bike off of craigslist for, what I supposed, was a pretty barebones price. It is an extra large, (likely) early 1980's, blue Nishiki. I planned on learning something about bikes in the process of cleaning it up, customizing it, and fixing it. Following the immediate needs of a new tube and tire, and new chain, I took the opportunity to augment it with new toe-clip pedals, new handle bars and tape, lights (a must, really), a back-rack, and a much needed cassette cleaning. Most of this work was made possible with Mr. Tim Haynes's assistance, but I did most of it myself. The new chain did break once and, since I was away from home, was mended at Single Track bikeshop, and many of the pieces were purchased from Bike Revolutions and Absolute Bikes - the rack, an outlier, was purchased from Bike Hub.
In November, I believe, the stem of the bike (what attaches the handlebars to the headset and frame) began to wobble in a persistent and obvious way. I suspected some looseness in the headset, something requiring the tightening of a wrench and some grease, but it worsened and not until mid-December did I tend to it. The day I purchased a wide-mouthed wrench, thanks to birthday funds from my father, I refused to bike up the hill to deliver a finals paper in fear of catastrophic damage given the state of the stem. That evening, upon loosening the headset and pulling out the stem - an entirely novel experience for me - I discovered that the base of the stem had broken off. Had I attempted to bike up the hill, the journey may very well have released the stem entirely from the headset and sent me reeling. The bike was unusable until I could replace the stem. Unfortunately, doing so required the removal of the handle bars and tape I was so proud of installing on my own in the first place.
Before leaving for the holidays, I bought a new stem and cleaned out the headset pieces. Unfortunately, by this time, Tim had left for Lawrence and had taken his tools and grease with him. It wasn't until returning to Flagstaff a few weeks ago was I able to install the stem, reassemble the headset, rewrap the tape, and make the Nishiki serviceable again. I obtained new tools and bike grease to do so unsupervised. Though I was forced to undo steps two or three times to get the installation correct, I managed to do so on my own. (Assisted, again, by the ingenius multi-tool my father had gotten me for Christmas.) The next day I hesitantly rode the bike around town and, sensing no rambles or uncertainties in the reassembly, felt satisfied with my work. Tim even commented on the apparent soundness of the bike shortly after his return.
This endeavor had been a frustrating, insightful, and somewhat costly affair; all to a degree greater than I had expected. The process has also endeared me to the bike more than I feel I have ever been connected thereto. I feel that the bike has also become itself, recovered from misuse and disuse, by my hand and mentorship both digital and interpersonal. The Nishiki is also the most ideal fit to me of a bike I have owned. Though I still ride the Cannondale, occasionally referred to as Silver, and the Raleigh that stay in Lincoln, I can sense the imperfections of my frame as I ride them. With Nicolai, the name I feel the bike has given itself, I struggle with it, not because of it. Its gears still click from time to time and its friction shifters require tightening now and then to prevent unwanted gear change, but these are characteristics of the bike itself, quirks that one abides to maintain a relationship.
Back in December, before the damage revealed itself in full, from outside Mia's my compatriots and I discussed bicycles and bike theft with a passer-by. He commented that theft of an identifiable bike, one that is distinctly someone's bike, is foolhardy because, once a bike is clearly yours and not someone else's, you can identify it anywhere. I asked, then, how he felt about the Nishiki; to which he responded that it was an obvious bike, a clear and identifiable one. I took the comment to heart, especially after doing more work on it. A comment like that toward my bike, after so much work has been applied to it, reflects on me as well; just as a compliment to a close friend is complimentary to you as well. I am proud of recuperating and riding Nicolai, and I hope that Nicolai has similar, corollary sentiments.
A few months back I bought a used bike off of craigslist for, what I supposed, was a pretty barebones price. It is an extra large, (likely) early 1980's, blue Nishiki. I planned on learning something about bikes in the process of cleaning it up, customizing it, and fixing it. Following the immediate needs of a new tube and tire, and new chain, I took the opportunity to augment it with new toe-clip pedals, new handle bars and tape, lights (a must, really), a back-rack, and a much needed cassette cleaning. Most of this work was made possible with Mr. Tim Haynes's assistance, but I did most of it myself. The new chain did break once and, since I was away from home, was mended at Single Track bikeshop, and many of the pieces were purchased from Bike Revolutions and Absolute Bikes - the rack, an outlier, was purchased from Bike Hub.
In November, I believe, the stem of the bike (what attaches the handlebars to the headset and frame) began to wobble in a persistent and obvious way. I suspected some looseness in the headset, something requiring the tightening of a wrench and some grease, but it worsened and not until mid-December did I tend to it. The day I purchased a wide-mouthed wrench, thanks to birthday funds from my father, I refused to bike up the hill to deliver a finals paper in fear of catastrophic damage given the state of the stem. That evening, upon loosening the headset and pulling out the stem - an entirely novel experience for me - I discovered that the base of the stem had broken off. Had I attempted to bike up the hill, the journey may very well have released the stem entirely from the headset and sent me reeling. The bike was unusable until I could replace the stem. Unfortunately, doing so required the removal of the handle bars and tape I was so proud of installing on my own in the first place.
Before leaving for the holidays, I bought a new stem and cleaned out the headset pieces. Unfortunately, by this time, Tim had left for Lawrence and had taken his tools and grease with him. It wasn't until returning to Flagstaff a few weeks ago was I able to install the stem, reassemble the headset, rewrap the tape, and make the Nishiki serviceable again. I obtained new tools and bike grease to do so unsupervised. Though I was forced to undo steps two or three times to get the installation correct, I managed to do so on my own. (Assisted, again, by the ingenius multi-tool my father had gotten me for Christmas.) The next day I hesitantly rode the bike around town and, sensing no rambles or uncertainties in the reassembly, felt satisfied with my work. Tim even commented on the apparent soundness of the bike shortly after his return.
This endeavor had been a frustrating, insightful, and somewhat costly affair; all to a degree greater than I had expected. The process has also endeared me to the bike more than I feel I have ever been connected thereto. I feel that the bike has also become itself, recovered from misuse and disuse, by my hand and mentorship both digital and interpersonal. The Nishiki is also the most ideal fit to me of a bike I have owned. Though I still ride the Cannondale, occasionally referred to as Silver, and the Raleigh that stay in Lincoln, I can sense the imperfections of my frame as I ride them. With Nicolai, the name I feel the bike has given itself, I struggle with it, not because of it. Its gears still click from time to time and its friction shifters require tightening now and then to prevent unwanted gear change, but these are characteristics of the bike itself, quirks that one abides to maintain a relationship.
Back in December, before the damage revealed itself in full, from outside Mia's my compatriots and I discussed bicycles and bike theft with a passer-by. He commented that theft of an identifiable bike, one that is distinctly someone's bike, is foolhardy because, once a bike is clearly yours and not someone else's, you can identify it anywhere. I asked, then, how he felt about the Nishiki; to which he responded that it was an obvious bike, a clear and identifiable one. I took the comment to heart, especially after doing more work on it. A comment like that toward my bike, after so much work has been applied to it, reflects on me as well; just as a compliment to a close friend is complimentary to you as well. I am proud of recuperating and riding Nicolai, and I hope that Nicolai has similar, corollary sentiments.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Tea, scone, haiku
Pinpricks and kind words,
infusions and diffusions,
flavor dusk's coming.
...
Trying to write something empirical, direct, and clear today. The sun has fallen behind a small building and the night's oncoming chill takes its place. Tea and friends and taste hang still in my mouth, my mind, my spirit. I am happy, but the cold and evening are taking my persistence from me.
infusions and diffusions,
flavor dusk's coming.
...
Trying to write something empirical, direct, and clear today. The sun has fallen behind a small building and the night's oncoming chill takes its place. Tea and friends and taste hang still in my mouth, my mind, my spirit. I am happy, but the cold and evening are taking my persistence from me.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Haiku & Reflection
Dream architectures --
lighted, rhythmic, suspended --
melt in winter's heat.
...
Coming from a few inspirations, I am going to try to regularly write reflective haiku and post them on the tumblr. If I have the time, which is unlikely, and the ability, which is questionable I hope to provide short reflections on the subject of the haiku. To some of you, this may sound like something out of The Elegance of the Hedgehog, which it is, though I only realized that after considering it this morning during sunrise. Paloma Josse has a related project having to do with moments of beauty in the world, especially if they have to do with people. Miss Lauren has also pledged herself to poetic responsibilities on the blog which she stewards, Space to Simplify, a project I endorse.
It has been a long time since I have written much in the way of poetry, and rarely with any particular focus. This initiative is in response to my own shortcoming in maintaining this blog or the tumblr especially well. The haiku format, though demanding, is brief in quantity but demanding of attention, concision, and insight. Therefore, I can allow myself a great deal of consideration but can manage to write the outcome from my phone or write it by hand and transcribe it later. In addition, I hope it brings clearer moments of beauty, awakening, and reportage to the Philosophy that Bakes Bread. Finally, my previous experience with haiku resulted in some, shall we say, problems and this, therefore, demands of me a certain reconsideration of the format and how I might use it. These are muscles underused and I hope that whatever can be crafted with them is at least pleasant to read.
...
Now, to the reflection: I have just finished my lunch, following a change after work this morning at the bakery, and am enjoying the crisp air and midday warmth. My awning is decked with long, skeletal icicle dangling from a slowly shifting curtain of snow that has been melting and refreezing for the last three weeks or so. Icicles are connected by the rims of now vanished curtains, and the icicles themselves suggest cavernous depths or inverted towers. Drops fall perpetually in a musical way that oddly reminds me of a BBC story from early this morning about a Norwegian crafter and performer of musical instruments made of ice. I am underdressed for the chill, especially as it is on the northwest side of the building and is in shade, but love the now fading delicious contrast of food-warmth in my belly with the lasting body heat of bakery work, with the wintertime ice show and cool air. Oddly, though, the icicles suggest light by their very structure the way they carry images in themselves, and the thinness of their bodies. I am also thinking more and more of the work I hope to do on my detective story with Lorenzo Vincenzi and the role of dreams therein, not to mention the difficult or altogether absent sleep of my own nights these days. Following the reading material of this past semester, and having quickly read Ursula K le Guin's The Word for World is Forest, I perceive dreams to be increasingly substantial, foundational, constructive; they are not ethereal or passing, but potent manifestations that carry with them some sense of the world that requires our attention, or some focus by which our attention can be guided. These ideas, though, clash or contrast at least with the melting, the dissipation of those icicle, their metaphors, and whatever it is we can glean from them. The respond demands immediacy, interpretation, and remembrance in no simple way.
lighted, rhythmic, suspended --
melt in winter's heat.
...
Coming from a few inspirations, I am going to try to regularly write reflective haiku and post them on the tumblr. If I have the time, which is unlikely, and the ability, which is questionable I hope to provide short reflections on the subject of the haiku. To some of you, this may sound like something out of The Elegance of the Hedgehog, which it is, though I only realized that after considering it this morning during sunrise. Paloma Josse has a related project having to do with moments of beauty in the world, especially if they have to do with people. Miss Lauren has also pledged herself to poetic responsibilities on the blog which she stewards, Space to Simplify, a project I endorse.
It has been a long time since I have written much in the way of poetry, and rarely with any particular focus. This initiative is in response to my own shortcoming in maintaining this blog or the tumblr especially well. The haiku format, though demanding, is brief in quantity but demanding of attention, concision, and insight. Therefore, I can allow myself a great deal of consideration but can manage to write the outcome from my phone or write it by hand and transcribe it later. In addition, I hope it brings clearer moments of beauty, awakening, and reportage to the Philosophy that Bakes Bread. Finally, my previous experience with haiku resulted in some, shall we say, problems and this, therefore, demands of me a certain reconsideration of the format and how I might use it. These are muscles underused and I hope that whatever can be crafted with them is at least pleasant to read.
...
Now, to the reflection: I have just finished my lunch, following a change after work this morning at the bakery, and am enjoying the crisp air and midday warmth. My awning is decked with long, skeletal icicle dangling from a slowly shifting curtain of snow that has been melting and refreezing for the last three weeks or so. Icicles are connected by the rims of now vanished curtains, and the icicles themselves suggest cavernous depths or inverted towers. Drops fall perpetually in a musical way that oddly reminds me of a BBC story from early this morning about a Norwegian crafter and performer of musical instruments made of ice. I am underdressed for the chill, especially as it is on the northwest side of the building and is in shade, but love the now fading delicious contrast of food-warmth in my belly with the lasting body heat of bakery work, with the wintertime ice show and cool air. Oddly, though, the icicles suggest light by their very structure the way they carry images in themselves, and the thinness of their bodies. I am also thinking more and more of the work I hope to do on my detective story with Lorenzo Vincenzi and the role of dreams therein, not to mention the difficult or altogether absent sleep of my own nights these days. Following the reading material of this past semester, and having quickly read Ursula K le Guin's The Word for World is Forest, I perceive dreams to be increasingly substantial, foundational, constructive; they are not ethereal or passing, but potent manifestations that carry with them some sense of the world that requires our attention, or some focus by which our attention can be guided. These ideas, though, clash or contrast at least with the melting, the dissipation of those icicle, their metaphors, and whatever it is we can glean from them. The respond demands immediacy, interpretation, and remembrance in no simple way.
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