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2009
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February
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- total eclipse of the crepe
- jaws
- eye
- claw
- Wodechuck~
- Vinagarette's Story
- Lampost Intervention~Garfield Street Ghosts
- ball point blankets
- a coupla ol' painting zooms
- stuffed companions
- Booze Mucha Scam~
- bread rising
- ghost of past
- mummies
- playing with damar
- nice thoughts
- (Zombi) Nuns Having Fun, jan.-april
- (Zombi) Nuns Having Fun, may-august
- (Zombi) Nuns Having Fun, septemer-december
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February
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1 comment:
sister vinaigrette
children you have been warned this story will partly take place on a farm of sorts so if you despise chickens and tomatoes, corn and peas and farmers in jeans and the plowing machines they ride up and down long rows of things that end steaming on a table as you pray thank you for my teeth that chew my eyes that sea my legs that fly and none of it you know or why we do things how we do well this will not cure your bewilderment and there will be some talk of growth I warn you.
maggie lived in an almost comfortable house on an almost friendly street in a neighborhood of schools libraries and parks. Her parents were nice enough. She sort of had friends and a pet that knew her. And here I am less than heroic telling her story in this library of a strange small town I pulled into rather than scribble in my car in the hot parking lot of a dairy queen.
when maggie started liking things, something always came along to break the spell: a bruise on the peach, two angel sisters cavorting like dolfins beneath the monstrous harpoon of a disapproving mother,..and so she wanted to run.
then the newspaper announced Vinegar Festival run by monks who called each other Brother and were not permitted to speak to outsiders. She just had to go.
but there were lot of weeds and no monks in sight. so one by one she began to pull weeds out of the dry ground. while the animals watched. a curtain in the farm house stirred and a man in brown robes stepped onto the porch. and he watched.
vinegar has a reputation for tasting sour but this is not quite the same as bitter. there is a sweetness to the best of batches that lingers behind the initial sourness. time creates this kind of surprise taste. like certain good things that follow from bad circumstances. like a story that emerges from being stranded somewhere unpleasant. after a few years of bitter imprisonment the harsh liquid develops a rewarding sparkle of sweet depth. like a reward for patience. for waiting in a dark barrel. for having the faith to believe that someone was thinking of you while you suffered in the lonely cell of a dark vat. like a monk.
this is how the monk put it when he walked out to talk with the girl pulling weeds. it seemed the monks were permitted to speak after all. how had that rumor come about? you could make as many vinegars as there were flowers on the earth. for the herbs flowers and spices were what gave color to the formula. hunting for exciting combinations was the alchemy that drew people in to the world of brewing vinegars. And maggie really liked flowers. their shapes and names. she liked ….. and …… and …… and …. and ….etc [list]
after school she went to the vinegar farm. don’t ask how she got there after school, whether by bus or mom or pony,..this is a story.
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