another delight

 

Dear Listener,

Here is a thing that you might enjoy:  Digging with Flo.  In this episode she is talking with the marvelous Laurie Anderson, who perfectly describes the work of being an artist as simply "noticing."  This is something I believe at a cellular level, and yes, what freedom!!  I think I have said it before, and I know, dear one, that you are doing this already, but, join me!  Come, be an artist, notice & observe!  

PS  Ok, you don't have to be an artist; maybe you'd rather grow some saffron; that's good too!

it's a sky blue sky

 

Threadbare/Fadenschein, Helena Hafemann.

Dear Y'All,

Did you know there was such a thing as a Horrible Mean Bad Woman?*  (I found it on the internet, of course; just like Woolworth's, it has everything!)  It's like a Feminist Killjoy but even more transgressive.  It's right up my alley.

My feeling right now is this:  ah, I see you have something there; a little crusted piece of societal expectation?  Why, I'd be delighted to smash it for you!  It's no trouble at all.  

Here is a song we can whistle while we smash; won't you join me?

*I found it on the internet, of course; just like Woolworth's, it has everything; you should try it!

voice & notice

 

Buzzard, from Dog Ear series, Erica Baum, 2016.

Dear Reader,

Why, or how, are there voices in written words?  I was reading an article, and I recognized the voice, or maybe style?  It's not the one I hear in my head, it's not just the sound of my own lips moving.  I was taught to read silently, and not to move my head across the page- why the fuck, anyway, I wonder?

I am moving my lips like mad these days, and yes, I am pretty sure it is The Texbook Indication of The Right On Time Signs Of Dementia*, but what matters now is that I even catch myself making sounds- I have been a talk to myselfer for as long as I can remember... and when my brain talks to me, it says things like:  get a horse.

So, what gives a series of words, a sentence, a particular voice?  And another thing, I know you don't need me to tell you what the genius of a song is; I know you have noticed it too; so why tell you?  I guess because the verb to notice, the word notice as verb is a kind of affirmation;  I sometimes worry I won't get it all noticed in time.  In time, you know, to die.  It's a kind of weird and personal form of reverence, but for me, just noting it isn't as good as writing it, too, and what about the voice of that written noticing?  I wonder.

*  The Signs of Dementia is a pretty good band name!  "SoD" printed on the bass drum!

gentrified crackers

 

Dear Curious,

Looking around, I found this recipe for fried saltines, and of course, I asked myself:  yes, but is it good?  And here at the Dodo Test Kitchens we work to answer that question for you, dear reader.  I could tell you, like many blog recipes seem to, in twelve pages of photos and dubious prose, gushing relentlessly.*  But no, I am going to tell you clearly and decisively in a very short sentence:  make them, eat them, they are great!  They transform your  workhorse, blue collar saltines to Boutique, Artisanal, Small Batch!

Fried Saltines with Cheddar and Onion:

1 pound Cheddar

1 small white onion

About a cup and a half of oil (I used light olive oil)

1 sleeve saltine crackers

Yellow or brown mustard, for serving

Slice the Cheddar in neat tablets slightly smaller than the saltines. Slice the onion into thin crescent moons (not half-moons), cutting from root to shoot ends so the ribs fall apart more easily, are shorter and, therefore, more manageable to chew and swallow.

Heat the oil in a deep-sided sauté pan over medium-high to 350 degrees. Stick a wooden chopstick in the oil to see if it sizzles. If it does, it’s ready. Fry the saltines in 3 quick batches, adjusting the heat as needed, using a spider or a slotted spoon to swirl them around a little and to make sure they cook evenly to golden brown, 2 to 3 minutes per batch. Drain on a wire rack until cool. They keep for a week in an airtight container.

Set the crackers, cheese and onion on a platter to serve with mustard in a ramekin.

*  I sometimes wonder, when I read these kinds* of recipes, scrolling finally down to the actual nub of the thing- the ingredients and instructions- are they being paid by the word or page?  Is 'content provider' lucrative if you get over the ten page mark?  Right again.  Let X = X.

* Technically, more than one recipe, I know.  Also technically, barely a recipe in the first place.

Chalkroom.

Dear Scribblers,

Of course, I was in love with this project at the mention of the name: Chalkroom.  What could that be, I wondered.  A room which can be marked and erased?  A dusty interior?  I spent several month wondering about it, savoring its possibilities, until I finally pushed the button. 

It's a treat to hear Laurie Anderson talk about anything, so don't worry, you will enjoy the film.  The idea of walking into the words of a story is a compelling and enigmatic notion.  It might be that I like the idea of the Chalkroom more than the reality of its virtual reality.  I will need to go and 'experience' it in person someday.  I wonder if virtual flight might be a little dizzying....

This channel is often tuned to Laurie Anderson; here at the Dodo we don't believe that you can have too much of a good thing.  More is more, so to speak, and here is a song for today by Laurie Anderson and the Kronos Quartet.

Not to worry.

Dear Worried,

Be thee of good cheer.  We don't know where we come from and we don't know what we are.  We do know that there is an awful, terrifying, and sublime amount of beauty, love, and truth.  Speak it, see it, feel it.

New Music.

Dear Radio Listeners,

Here is a piece from an album that I cannot play often enough.  In my usual remarkable good fortune, a kind fellow at the place I work introduced me to it.  If you need to arrange forms in appealing patterns, or compose little bits of dark on pale fields, then Landfall is your music.

Crash Club

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Crashed Aeroplane,

John Singer Sargent, Gouache &Watercolor, 1918

Imperial War Museum, London.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Troubled Mind, 

 

 

I was listening to some people I hardly know, strangers, chance encounters really.  They had all kinds of sorrows;  I wanted to pack them up for them, and I had only "oh!" and "I'm so sorry" as salve.  Which isn't much.

 

Laurie Anderson mentioned on the radio joining a crash club.  In this club you tell about your crash until it bores even you, until the story loses its power, its energy. 

 

Let's meet here anytime, it will be our own little virtual crash club, for the emotional accidents, for falling out of love, or falling out of favor, or landing hard any old place.  Bring your struggles, your mishaps, your heartbreaks, your deaths, and we will tell the story until our ears bleed together.