A nice simple one.
Invitation (7/10/04)
The past
is a homeless cat on the doorstep
sleeping over the w-e-l-
As if -
it were calling to me
over the expanse of the threshold
It comes into the house
sneaking when the screen door
is left open
Showing posts with label personal history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal history. Show all posts
26 July 2016
09 May 2013
Tattoo
On Friday the New York Times published the latest entry in their My Story series. It was by Louise Rafkin and called Forever, The Girl With The Unicorn Tattoo. Basics out of the way. She regrets her poorly drawn, ill-placed tattoo. Here, the ending of her essay:
1) So tired of people pointing to tattoos and saying they are 'bad'. Just. YAWN.
2) She got a tattoo of a UNICORN that was traced from a coloring book. And she got it in GREEN on her ASS.
Of course your ass tattoo deformed with age. Of course it faded into a blobby thing. DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH. I am sorry that you and your friends got trampy overly girly tattoos that you regret. But. You do not know my life. Or anyone else's.
Rafkin projects her personal experience really out past the point of sense. She says that these 'youthful indiscretions' are not a good idea. That universally tattoos are bad decisions. Because she got a unicorn on her ass.
Yes, getting stupid tattoos is a bad decision. Just ask the folks with butterflies on the small of their back. Or the dude with a Tasmania Devil on his shoulder. Or...that guy up there with the Romney logo on his face.
But if it is meaningful, well done, and placed right - a tattoo can be amazing.
This woman had breast cancer and decided against implants. Instead, she opted for an amazing representation of beauty in the face of great personal loss.
Interestingly, Facebook took the photo down claiming it was 'offensive'.
And maybe I'm being hard on the cartoon tattoo folk of the world. Maybe Taz means a lot to some people.
I have 3. They all have great personal meaning. A story to with them.
Two I got in my early 20s and one in my early 30s. I plan on others. With time, the edges have softened and the color has faded. But I love them.
People are dumb. They do impulsive, irrational, hard to explain things daily. That some seem incapable of critical thinking is my take away from this essay and from pictures like the man with the Romney logo on his head.
That is the lesson that Rafkin should have learned. For the record, I think you could easily get a great unicorn tattoo. I don't know what that would look like and this Google search is a hot mess.
A tattoo should be like those of the Illustrated Man in Ray Bradbury's classic book of stories. Each with a tale to tell. A future and past to showcase. Even a bad one. Those stories are important too. And wishing them away is missing the point.
We make decisions. They impact us. We cannot erase or eliminate ourselves in this way. And even if it gets all discolored and blobby. That history got us here. We can point to it, even if it is on our ass, and say "I did this. This is when, where, how, and why." Even that guy with the Romney tattoo can look in the mirror and know what 2012 meant for him. That's more than a lot of people can say.
Beyond my self-appointed mission to thwart young people from joining the tribes of the inked, my tattoo underscores a lesson I’ve had to learn time and again: some things in life are hard to undo.
And for those who glibly claim that youthful indiscretions fade with time, I say this: sometimes not enough.You don't really need to read the rest. Two things:
1) So tired of people pointing to tattoos and saying they are 'bad'. Just. YAWN.2) She got a tattoo of a UNICORN that was traced from a coloring book. And she got it in GREEN on her ASS.
Of course your ass tattoo deformed with age. Of course it faded into a blobby thing. DUH DUH DUH DUH DUH. I am sorry that you and your friends got trampy overly girly tattoos that you regret. But. You do not know my life. Or anyone else's.
Rafkin projects her personal experience really out past the point of sense. She says that these 'youthful indiscretions' are not a good idea. That universally tattoos are bad decisions. Because she got a unicorn on her ass.
Yes, getting stupid tattoos is a bad decision. Just ask the folks with butterflies on the small of their back. Or the dude with a Tasmania Devil on his shoulder. Or...that guy up there with the Romney logo on his face.
This woman had breast cancer and decided against implants. Instead, she opted for an amazing representation of beauty in the face of great personal loss.
Interestingly, Facebook took the photo down claiming it was 'offensive'.
And maybe I'm being hard on the cartoon tattoo folk of the world. Maybe Taz means a lot to some people.
I have 3. They all have great personal meaning. A story to with them.
Two I got in my early 20s and one in my early 30s. I plan on others. With time, the edges have softened and the color has faded. But I love them.
People are dumb. They do impulsive, irrational, hard to explain things daily. That some seem incapable of critical thinking is my take away from this essay and from pictures like the man with the Romney logo on his head.
That is the lesson that Rafkin should have learned. For the record, I think you could easily get a great unicorn tattoo. I don't know what that would look like and this Google search is a hot mess.
A tattoo should be like those of the Illustrated Man in Ray Bradbury's classic book of stories. Each with a tale to tell. A future and past to showcase. Even a bad one. Those stories are important too. And wishing them away is missing the point.
We make decisions. They impact us. We cannot erase or eliminate ourselves in this way. And even if it gets all discolored and blobby. That history got us here. We can point to it, even if it is on our ass, and say "I did this. This is when, where, how, and why." Even that guy with the Romney tattoo can look in the mirror and know what 2012 meant for him. That's more than a lot of people can say.
25 August 2011
Marchpane
Marchpane 8/25
Marzipan is the German word for marchpane. Marchpane is the old English word for marzipan. The German word won the battle of lexicon. This is an Elizabethan recipe for it :
Take two Pounds of Jordan Almonds blanch them beat them in a mortar with rosewater
Take one Pound and half of sugar finely sifted and knead the paste with it
Then leave it to rest for one hour in a shady place in a quiet place
Then roll it as thin as you would for a tart
Use a medium-sized china plate with a smooth edge to cut it in a perfect circle
Then set an edge about it and pinch it into a seam
Then layer a pan with crumbled wafers and the marchpane and bake it a little
It will set but remain soft and smooth to the touch
Then ice it with rosewater and sugar and the beaten white of an egg
Place it into the oven until the ice rises white and high
Allow it to cool a moment to set gently
Use beaten egg white to lay golf leaf with the wing feather from a swan
The first time I had marzipan was at a birthday party in England when I was 9 or 10. The village we lived in was very small and the people across the street invited my sister and I over. We had all just had chicken pox and it was fall and had just been Halloween which the English kids in our neighborhood celebrated because why not? I remember the little sculpted animals out of the paste. I remember the soft marshmallow texture and almost non-existent taste. I remember the mother talking to another woman about a made for TV movie about a kidnapping and how she had watched it. The movie was called 'I Know My First Name Is Steven'. I interrupted to tell them I had seen it and they were horrified my mom let me watch it. I remember their faces and the sideways look they gave each other. I hated them for it.
Marzipan is the German word for marchpane. Marchpane is the old English word for marzipan. The German word won the battle of lexicon. This is an Elizabethan recipe for it :
Take two Pounds of Jordan Almonds blanch them beat them in a mortar with rosewater
Take one Pound and half of sugar finely sifted and knead the paste with it
Then leave it to rest for one hour in a shady place in a quiet place
Then roll it as thin as you would for a tart
Use a medium-sized china plate with a smooth edge to cut it in a perfect circle
Then set an edge about it and pinch it into a seam
Then layer a pan with crumbled wafers and the marchpane and bake it a little
It will set but remain soft and smooth to the touch
Then ice it with rosewater and sugar and the beaten white of an egg
Place it into the oven until the ice rises white and high
Allow it to cool a moment to set gently
Use beaten egg white to lay golf leaf with the wing feather from a swan
The first time I had marzipan was at a birthday party in England when I was 9 or 10. The village we lived in was very small and the people across the street invited my sister and I over. We had all just had chicken pox and it was fall and had just been Halloween which the English kids in our neighborhood celebrated because why not? I remember the little sculpted animals out of the paste. I remember the soft marshmallow texture and almost non-existent taste. I remember the mother talking to another woman about a made for TV movie about a kidnapping and how she had watched it. The movie was called 'I Know My First Name Is Steven'. I interrupted to tell them I had seen it and they were horrified my mom let me watch it. I remember their faces and the sideways look they gave each other. I hated them for it.
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