ARRIVING in ARGENTINA

Argentina is beautiful. My driver he swerves between lanes, with no caution for the dotted white lines. He points out the futbol fields and the houses of worship with the glee of a school-boy.

It is 8 am and the sun is already dominating. The highway, the airport is flanked by a savannah dotted with a myriad of trees. South America. In minutes the trees are replaced with crude apartments. On the façade of these buildings I can see the handiwork of their creators, hundreds of men who have smeared plaster over concrete. La ciudad. I recognize from my guidebook, the Korean and Jewish neighborhood, my driver points out another church and we zip off the expressway, crossing two lanes at once onto the off ramp an into a city surprisingly awake and about for a Christmas morning.

Men grab their crotches and lean against bus stops to take the place of their spines. Women walk with ferocious vigor and purpose. I am at Todd’s.

“Gracias.”

“De Nada.”

My driver zooms off. I never caught his name.

I am now settled into Todd’s place – we each have a station to work at, at the table by the window, computers mirroring one another. I love the sharing and the autonomy of the moments.

We venture outside, Todd sharing with me his adopted home. Quickly, in the comfort of a massive foreign space — surrounded by another language and protected by a canopy of trees that line every avenue — we begin to return to our familiar proximity, living in and articulating our fears and dreams and the unique anxiety that surrounds us both. I am with Todd. I am at home.

QUOTEd

utterings with which I agree…

“I’ve always said I want the library to be a crossroads in the city’s intellectual and cultural life,” Mr. LeClerc said.

Full story on the Humanities and Social Sciences Library’s crumbling facade here.

1907

The library in progress. When it was dedicated in 1911 after 12 years of construction, the neo-Classical Carrère & Hastings building was the nation’s largest marble structure.
copyright 2007, New York Times

2006

SATURDAYS ARE…

You make it, I take it.

1. Nostalgic TV theme song meets poignant contemporary sensibilities…

2. Underage coed is taught to talk like a sailor in order to save famous dad’s career…

*Most prized pilfered content of the year.

on INSTITUTIONAL HOLIDAY PARTIES

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp unweildy public gatherings make me queezy

wrap me up
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp in old friends
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp or

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp a cup of hot tea

FAMILIA

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp my baby brother is here.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp We watch movies

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp and eat;

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp I enjoy taking him for granted.

mmmm…TASTY

This is my favorite recipe for a Saturday morning breakfast.

The key to fluffy pancakes is not to over mix the batter; it should not be beaten smooth. If serving these pancakes with bacon, reserve half a teaspoon of bacon drippings to grease the griddle instead of butter.

• 2 cups all-purpose flour, unbleached
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 2 large eggs, lightly beaten
• 3 cups buttermilk
• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted, plus 1/2 teaspoon for griddle, plus 1 tablespoon for serving
• 1 cup seasonal berries
• Maple Syrup to taste

1. Heat griddle to 375°. Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and sugar in a medium bowl.
2. Add eggs, buttermilk, 4 tablespoons butter, and one cup of your favorite seasonal berries (optional); whisk to combine. DO NOT OVER MIX. In general just mix long enough, a scant minute, to coat all the dry ingredients. Batter should have small to medium lumps.
3. Heat oven to 175°. Test griddle by sprinkling a few drops of water on it. If water bounces and spatters off griddle, it is hot enough. Using a pastry brush, brush remaining 1/2 teaspoon of butter or reserved bacon fat onto griddle. Wipe off excess.
4. Using a 4-ounce ladle, about 1/2 cup, pour pancake batter, in pools 2 inches away from one other.
5. When pancakes have bubbles on top and are slightly dry around edges, about 2 1/2 minutes, flip over. Cook until golden on bottom, about 1 minute.
6. Repeat with remaining batter, keeping finished pancakes on a heatproof plate in oven.
7. Serve warm. With real Maple syrup.

COLLABORATIONS

Fleas interest me so much
that I let them bite me for hours.
They are perfect, ancient, Sanskrit,
machines that admit of no appeal.
They do not bite to eat,
they bite only to jump;
they are the dancers of the celestial sphere,
delicate acrobats
in the softest and most profound circus;
let them gallop on my skin,
divulge their emotions,
amuse themselves with my blood,
but someone should introduce them to me.
I want to know them closely,
I want to know what to rely on.

SLEEP
Kj Swanson

Trying to sleep; What
happened to those nice things I
used to think about?

SOMETHING ON YOUR MIND
Karen Dalton’s In My Own Time

Yesterday any way you made it was just fine,
So you turned your days into night-time,
Didn’t you know, you can’t make it without ever even trying?
And something’s on your mind, isn’t it

Let these times show you that you’re breaking up your mind
Leaving all your dreams too far behind,
Didn’t you see, you can’t make it without ever even trying?
And something’s on your mind.

Maybe another day you’ll want to feel another way, you can’t stop crying,
You haven’t got a thing to say, you feel you want to run away
There’s no use trying, anyway.
I’ve seen the writing on the wall,
Who cannot maintain will always fall,
Well, you know, you can’t make it without ever even trying.

And something’s on your mind, isn’t it
Tell the truth now, isn’t it
And something’s on your mind, isn’t it

TRANSPARENCY

a little glimpse into my right now…
(click on the photo to make it larger)

THANK YOU ANDREW WYETH