Joy
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An emotional Yankees Baseball Moment (for my father)
You inhaled last at 6:01 that morning in the month of March, 2001, and yesterday I thought of you. Twenty-three years is a very long time, yet the freshness of you remains, as fresh as the interest for the New York Yankees which you instilled in me. Baseball is such a banal thing but it…
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Prophylactic tears
If one can look at beauty today, and imagine it today disappearing tomorrow, would the tears that come ahead of its disappearance prevent us from allowing it to disappear?
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A complex simplicity in reference to childhood memories on taste
A spiritual and intellectual approach to eating has been a focus as of late. This approach is by no means a new phase but rather a zooming-in by way of reduction being dramatically intensified — more singularity per dish, as opposed to a variety of up to five items on a plate, and items being…
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Cuban, Polish, and Mine
Plantains are familiar to me in the Cuban context. The wish to relive the tastes of my childhood is often not enough, though. I cook them every so often, always combining the taste I know, with the taste I want. Although non-existent in my childhood, I like the wide array of taste in meats. Today…
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Repetition is a form of change
The past, and the next second, the experience, and the hunger, joy, and its intermittent absence, everything, everything seems to be the resilience which demands repetition, not to preserve life but to live it — in composed sounds, in uttered words and their placement, in the gentle push to invest mind, spirit, and flesh, even…
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god missing himself
These days are energy, inspiration —-No! energy —- period! Here is an inner confidence in claiming that inspiration is a constant. It comes from all around, it comes in memories waiting to be re-unpacked, occasionally unpacked for the very first instance. It happens in any moment of passive, and wild, and deep observation of whatever…
Sila Blume 