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Friday July 25, 2014
5 minutes
Food Rules
Michael Pollan
Next thing I know he's baking me effing chocolate chip cookies! And he's putting molasses in them. And brown butter. Like. Shut the front door, right? I know. I was losing my effing mind, Kel. Losing it. And these cookies? Better than your Mom's. Better than those old Toll House kind. The best goddamn cookies I'm ever effing eaten. They are not the healthiest things… A whole cup of butter in there, a cup and a half of sugar. Holy shizama, but… Like, who even cares, you know? When something tastes that good? How am I supposed to leave this one? I practically proposed on the spot! I think he's the one. Seriously. He has every Norah Jones album? Even her new one! I didn't even know she had a new one!
All articles filed in July 2014
"The six methods are:" by Sasha at Black River Farm
Thursday July 24, 2014
5 minutes
Ashtanga Yoga Primer
Baba Hari Das
1. Fall into the ground, without a sound. Pretend you always meant to be there. Nothing's wrong. You're like a bulb. You're going to open. It's going to be glorious, a bit painful, and glorious again.
2. Lean back. The air will catch you with her soft hands. You'll wonder where you're going, where you've been, why you're still alone, still dizzy, still laughing.
3. Right or wrong, flying isn't just for birds and airplanes. You fly. You catch a wave going West and you hang on and you go and you land where you've never been and you're full.
4. Draw vines on your legs. Pen, marker, eyeliner – these all work well. Pencil might hurt a bit. Close your eyes and think about your grandmother's hands. Look! You're a tree!
5. The turkey gets you. Don't forget that. The turkey gets how excited you are. She's excited too, but for really different reasons.
6. Forgetting your own obsessions is the freest you will ever be of your legacy.
"I look at the sky recalling" by Sasha at her desk
Wednesday July 23, 2014
5 minutes
A Memory Returns
Bobby Ferguson
I look at the sky recalling Jem's face, beside mine, sharing one pillow like two chickens in the coop. His eyes are like the Big Dipper – sparkling and twinkling and telling stories without any words coming out. I go for walks in the forest by the old house, by the house with windows on all sides. Jem used to say he felt like he was in a fishbowl. "No one's looking!" I'd say. We didn't have neighbours. The only eyes on us were God's.
"I've breathed the mountain air" by Sasha on her couch
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
5 minutes
I've Been Everywhere
Hank Snow
Let me start by saying, I'm terrible at this kind of thing. I'm terrible at saying what I mean and meaning what I say and… You're the one that's good with words. You're the one who knows how to put thoughts together like a… shopping list. No – … I mean… When your mother left I wasn't sure where my own damn bellybutton was. I wasn't sure how to brush my teeth, or make a salami sandwich. I let you down, Tilly. I know I did. I'm – … I'm sorry.
"any kind of company" by Julia at her kitchen table
Tuesday July 29, 2014
5 minutes
She swept the living room floor for the third time that morning. She somehow kept stepping in sand, which she thought she had fully cleaned the day before. She put on The Dirty Projectors and made sure to press repeat every time Impregnable Question came on. It felt like the perfect song to listen as she was feeling alone, yet didn't want to fall too far into a problematic state. This was after eating the raw cookie dough from the tube and drawing a sketch of a bat wearing a clown nose. Every time her phone rang, she leapt from her sprawled out on the floor position to see who it could be. Telemarketing usually. The occasional scam rewards program from Cruises R Us. She was desperate for any kind of company. Any kind that would require a conversation, the outpouring of her emotions and her opinions, and perhaps a hug that would last at least six seconds to ensure a proper connection was established.
"But we will judge you." by Julia at her kitchen table
Monday July 28, 2014
5 minutes
from www.winnipegpoetryslam.wordpress.com
She had a beautiful accent and I fell in love with her voice before I ever saw her face. I was lucky then. Oh I was so lucky my friends used to joke about me having a horse shoe jammed right up my ass. But the difference between me and some of those other lucky ones is that I know damn well how lucky I am. Maybe it was even just luck that the first time I got to listen to her it was at a poetry reading where she read the prose of her favourite poet. It's luck when you get to hear something as intimate as a confession. That's what I heard when she spoke and I could understand her. I could see her. I don't think I ever saw anything after that that mattered as much as her.
"That really hurted!" by Julia at Gimli beach
Sunday, July 27, 2014
5 minutes
overheard at Gimli Beach
Well, I told him not to go into the water but he insisted. He was afraid of it for years so I guess I didn't think I'd have to worry about it, then one day, or one instant, really, he got up the nerve, ran into the waves, and a big one came and smacked him in the belly.
Not life threatening stuff. He was fine in minutes, really. But he was shaken up for a bit, that's for sure. He wouldn't stop talking about how big it all felt. How he wasn't sure if he could do it again today, but maybe the next time we came. I don't know what changed his mind. Could have been just the ways of growing up-or it could have been that cute little thing who was playing with her dinosaur floaty. She might have lured him in with all her joy if I had to hazard a guess. I told him, Bobby, those waves are choppy do you see? Might not be the best for your first time so you have to be real careful. He said, Gramma, I know! I have two eyes in my head just like you do! Then he ran off and within seconds he was right back on the blanket with me rubbing his tummy.
"Destroy the evidence" by Julia on her couch
Saturday, July 26, 2014
5 minutes
Cards Against Humanity
Paper trail, burn it up, up in smoke, burn it up
-How's your book coming?
-My what? I'm not writing a book.
-But I saw your receipts. The ones from the coffee shops.
-Well since when do lattes mean I'm writing a book?
-I know you don't actually drink the coffee.
-Yes I do!
-No you just like the way it looks beside your laptop. That and I know you don't write anywhere else.
-That's not true. I write. I write at parks sometimes.
-Why are you hiding it, you never keep these things a secret.
-Oh my god, fine, it's about you. Okay? Happy?
-You're lying.
-What do you want, exactly?
-I just want to know what you're working on. It seems very sneaky all of a sudden and it makes me anxious. It makes me anxious thinking about what it is you could be doing.
-I told you, it's about you.
"The healthiest things" by Julia at Gertrude Park
Friday July 25, 2014
5 minutes
Food Rules
Michael Pollan
Darlin' I'm slippin'. I've been feelin' off these days, you know? Can't help myself from makin' tiny trips to the garage. I hid all kinds of bottles in there, cause you know your mother, she was always all over me for bein' thirsty. One, you know, I don't know how I did it, but I found it way up on the top shelf there right by the trophies. Almost fell right off, I had to climb so high. And I brought that one down, and it took me a minute, but by the time I got my footin' I noticed it was actually empty. Why I was keepin' an empty bottle so out of reach is beyond me, but that's the problem. If I don't even remember why I was hidin' certain things, then maybe I also have more than I thought. More bottles on top shelves. More uncovered memories I at some point in my life tried very hard to bury. But guess what the truth is. I haven't once had a sip yet. I've been starin' at those bottles but that doesn't mean I've been hittin' them. Doesn't mean I don't want to though..
"The six methods are:" by Julia at MAKE coffee+stuff
Thursday July 24, 2014 at MAKE
5 minutes
Ashtanga Yoga Primer
Baba Hari Das
Oh for coping? I guess I have some experience. I usually don't talk about them with anyone though. I don't like sharing that stuff in case anyone finds it disturbing or whatever. TMI, maybe? I usually just avoid people during the coping period all together.
But okay. I could list them out, if that's what you need? If you think it'll help?
Number one…I'm suddenly acutely aware of myself. And my sadness. Because I'm still struggling with these and I'm the one who originated them. Sorry. Number one: Scream. It sounds easy, but it's different than just letting sound out at a high volume. It's a deep one. It's guttural, it's blood curdling, it's hopeless and hopeful at the same time. And it lasts for at least 90 seconds. I do this one first to let it all out. Or try to.
Number two: find a sore spot on your body – a knot, a bruise, a tight muscle, and dig into it. With anything you want, but usually I use my elbows. You want something very pointy. Number three: Finish an entire container of peanut butter. Don't move from your spot until it's completely gone, lid licked. I don't know why this one helps but it does. Maybe because you need something to stick to your bones once you've released all the unwanted parts. Number four: put on a blindfold and walk around your house until you know it by touch. Number five: Paint your mirror around your face. Turn it into something like a face cut out character you'd see at a carnival. Number six: floss.
"I look at the sky recalling" by Julia at MAKE coffee+stuff
Wednesday July 23, 2014 at MAKE
5 minutes
A Memory Returns
Bobby Ferguson
It was my first sip of coffee and I remember thinking it was so bitter I couldn't see straight. Why anyone would ever drink that stuff was beyond me. I saw all the adults drinking it and they seemed to be having a great time. But I was never interested much in the smell, or the aftertaste, or the colour of teeth it somehow also transformed. I took a second sip to show I was big, I guess. Bigger than I was feeling. I wanted to fit in, I wanted them to stop thinking they needed to spell controversial words around me. I was a very good speller anyway. It just made them look stupid if I'm being honest. I wanted to shout from the tiny kid's table that felt like it was a mile away from all the fun that I could understand what they were saying; that I could follow along and offer an opinion every now and again if they'd let me. So I took another sip and swallowed down the fuzz that formed on my tongue when I drank the stuff. I could feel my head start to get a bit light and I remember thinking, huh, this stuff isn't so bad once you get past all the gross parts. Each sip brought me closer to the adults in the room thinking I was beneath them just because I was younger. Each sip made me feel all the more alive.
I still don't drink it. I thought I might be the type to take it up after all, but I wasn't. Turns out I didn't need to do something I didn't like to make me feel big.
"I've breathed the mountain air" by Julia on her couch
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
5 minutes
I've Been Everywhere
Hank Snow
I've been so angry. I have been, it's been a mercury is rising sort of thing, and I swear, that if the real me doesn't happen, I'll be your worst nightmare. I've been that way. Blinded sight, twisted light, couldn't write that way. Where the only thing that calms me is the fight, that way. I couldn't control it, I wouldn't, shouldn't, didn't but I sold it. And it's too late to try and get on its level just to scold it. It's out of me and gone, the anger, the angry, the anger, the angry, the anger in me. That one we've seen. That thing I've been.
"That's very interesting" by Julia on her couch
Monday, July 21, 2014
5 minutes
Overheard at ideal coffee
She was a mad hatter
her feelings didn't matter
she was a mad a mad a
and when she danced
the world was romanced
but she didn't believe it yet
her feelings didn't matter
she was a mad hatter
a mad, a mad was, a mad was
He always did stray
When she looked the other way
His mask a good looking one
And they would talk
But not have much to say
their costume a convincing one
She was a batter
her feelings didn't matter
she was a bat a bat a
And when she sang
The whole world came
but she didn't know how to believe it yet
He always did lie
It was his alibi:
He really just enjoyed telling it.
"That's very interesting" by Sasha at ideal coffee
Monday, July 21, 2014
4:23pm at ideal coffee
5 minutes
Overheard at ideal coffee
"That's very interesting" is Charles' favourite thing to say. It's his go to. I call him on it. "I have no idea what you mean when you say that, Charles! "Interesting" has to be the least descriptive word that there is!" He smiles, like he knows something that I don't. "You're overcomplicating it, honey," he says. When Charles and I first met, I thought he was an asshole. That's usually how it goes with the men I date. When I meet them I think that they're assholes and then something flips and I'm in love. I'm not in love with Charles, but he fascinates me. He's my Toronto boyfriend. I have Ken in Hamilton. It's nice. It helps me focus. Ken doesn't, the sex does. I should be specific about that. "Get specific!" says Ken, biting my toes. Charles weighs about double Ken, but Ken is taller. It balances out.
"The Psych Ward" by Sasha on the Queen Streetcar going East
Sunday, July 20, 2014
5 minutes
from a Winnipeg Fringe Festival Program
When I made it to the edge I let me legs flop over.
It was a far drop down.
It was a far drop down.
When I made it to the edge I imagined jumping…
But I didn't.
Don't worry.
I didn't.
The sun was starting to set,
which is always a magical time,
which is always when I don't feel lonely.
When I sit there at the edge,
I am tired.
I am tired from a lifetime of wishing I was someone that I'm not.
Do you do that too?
I am a master of pretending.
I am a master of trying too hard.
I'm a professional poser.
And now,
I'm sitting at the edge and I'm wondering.
I'm leaning too far forward,
Catching myself…
Leaning back.
I am at the edge,
I am looking over and seeing clouds, mountains, seagull wings, whispers of the changing seasons, phone numbers, mailboxes, a jeep, my mother's engagement ring.
"No, that was so wide!" by Sasha on her couch
Saturday, July 19, 2014
5 minutes
overheard a Grand Beach
No! It was this big, Mama! It was really this huge! Franklin, stop it! That's how big it was! I'm the one that held it so you don't even know! FRANKLIN SHUT UP! I'm telling Mama. MAMA! FRANKLIN! Mama! Franklin is saying that I didn't know how big the kitten was! That is was smaller! It was a Maine Coon cat! That's what Aunty said! A Maine Coon! They're the size of a dog! Even when they're babies! That's the truth. Mama? Listen to me! I'm talking to you! Can we can a Maine Coon? Papa won't even notice that it's not a dog. He won't sneeze or have itchy eyes or anything.
"YOU A LIAR" by Sasha in her garden
Friday, July 18, 2014
5 minutes
overheard on queen st west
You a liar, Steve! You a friggen liar! I'm tired of it! Not like it's big lies all the time! It's the lil' ones that are the worst! All the damn friggen time! An' I see it, you know. I see it on your face! Like a sign. Like a sign saying "I'M LYIN'!" I think about how you really don't deserve a friend like me, Steve. I'm "enabling" you. That's what Jenni says. She says every time I let you use my ID and borrow my car and take Huckle for a walk that I'm basically enabling you. An'… I think she jus' might be right! I wish she weren'! I wish it! We known eachother a long time, Steve, an' I put up with a lotta what you do in this life. I think I've had it. I think we need to take a bitta space from being friends, Steve. I think you shouldn' come fishin'. I think you should jus' stay here and think about how you can be a better guy.
"The Psych Ward" by Julia at the Winnipeg Fringe Tent
Sunday, July 20, 2014
5 minutes
from a Winnipeg Fringe Festival Program
I didn't say no. I didn't say yes. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Where did you go? Why did you leave? You're here now. I see you. I'm happy you're back.
I didn't say hello. I didn't say goodbye. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
What can I do? What can I say? I'm here now. I see you. I'm with you once again.
I didn't say I'm sorry. I didn't say I wasn't. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Which way is up? Which way is down? You're here now. You see me. We're together for a while.
I didn't say baby. I didn't say friend. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
When can you take me? Where can we hide? We're here now. We see it. We're a we like we were.
I didn't say stay. I didn't say go. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
Where did you go? Why did you leave? You're here now. I see you. I'm happy. You're back.
I didn't say please. I didn't say thank you. But the whole time I knew. The answer was clear.
We're not through, yet, are we? We're not just July? I'm here now. You see me. With you once again.
"No, that was so wide!" by Julia at Grand beach
Saturday, July 19, 2014
5 minutes
overheard a Grand Beach
So those two were shooting a soccer ball, right? Right at us, no less. But we weren't worried, obviously, cause they were kids, you know? Just two little rug rats trying to have fun. But thennnnnn, I'm telling you, it all got weird. Cause Madelyn is laying beside me and she has no idea what could happen, and suddenly, without warning, that damn soccer ball comes flying right at us. Right at Maddy! And Mad's asleep cause that woman can sleep through a tsunami, knock on wood. She has no idea it's coming, but I know she's still sensitive from that jaw surgery she just had. Okay, okay, you got me, it was still sensitive because of the lip injections she had over the weekend. She was trying not to tell anyone about it because she was worried people would start calling her names or saying she was fake. You know how many women get lip injections? More than you would even know, and you wouldn't even know this one if I didn't open up my big ass mouth just to tell you my wife's little secrets. Anyway! So I dive right?
"YOU A LIAR" by Julia on her couch
Friday, July 18, 2014
5 minutes
overheard on queen st west
"September I'll remember" by Sasha in her kitchen
Thursday, July 17, 2014
5 minutes
April Come She Will
Simon And Garfunkel
In September I'll remember the wild call of your heart to mine.
In September I'll remember avoiding your phone call like mono kisses.
In September I'll remember myself, and you, braiding grass and drinking warm beer from cans.
In September I'll remember when you told me and how we cried and how you looked younger than the day you were born.
In September I'll remember when we decided to have sex and how salty it was and how gentle you were and how happy I was to have escaped the mystery.
In September I'll remember meeting Jer, your first boyfriend, the one who taught you everything you know about being with a man, and I'll remember how he looked me up and down and said I was a "fairy queen".
In September I'll remember visiting you in Montreal and eating too much salami and laughing til I peed and I took off my undies and threw them in the woods.
"mostly tiny sungrazing comets" by Sasha at her desk
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
5 minutes
from the Sun Wikipedia page
When we barbecue on the porch in the rain, it reminds me of being ten on the Island. My grandmother would send my sister and I bus tickets. They'd come the week before we were set to leave. There'd be handdrawn postcard with the three of us and her husky, Farley. She'd meet us at the ferry dock, raspberries and dark chocolate in her hands. She'd kiss us on the mouth and hold us at arms length to take in each of the changes. "Nadine, you've got an extra freckle on your cheek!" "Odessa, you're one eighth of an inch taller!" Farley would lick our toes as we giggled and shook our heads. She'd leave her old station wagon on the other side, and when we piled into the back there'd always be a fresh beach towel and a peach for each of us. We'd drive, windows down, Bruce Cockburn on the tape deck, until we arrived at her cottage by the sea.
"Submit where you can" by Sasha at her kitchen table
Tuesday July 15, 2014
5 minutes
from a scrap paper
At "Surf N' Snurf" Internet Cafe the owner is Jorge. He makes this clucking sound and I'm disoriented. I don't know what time it is. I don't even remember whether my mother has green eyes or brown. Jorge only takes cash for the candy bars. "Two dollars!" Can't give him my credit card. Can't give anyone that. Finding too many treasures on The eBay. Too many treasures down there. What would you do if you found a first edition Jose Delgado baseball card on there? Huh? I mean, my hands were tied, man! "Two dollars!" Says Jorge when I get hungry. "Justa bag of Miss Vicky's!" I say, and it's louder than I mean it to be. I haven't spoken in awhile. I forget how strong I am. That's nice.
"Feed your creative juices" by Sasha on her bed
Monday, July 14, 2014
5 minutes
from a pencil case
You're a dick. I love you, but you're a huge asshole dick. Sorry. I'm not sorry. I am but I'm… not. You come in here and you haven't shaved so you know I'm going to be overwhelmingly attracted to you and you smell like pinecones and tobacco so really? Actually? Fuck you.
And then? Then, you have the nerve to pull out a guitar? Nope. Sorry. Not gonna fall for that.
We've been here, Scott. We've been down this road. It didn't work. Remember? You called me a "cow" and I called you a… dick. Wow. Nothing's changed. Or, it has, but… I haven't. Damn it! I have! I have changed! I'm so much more… well adjusted. This city has a way of really bringing out the worst in people, have you noticed that?
"they are content with burning my books" by Sasha at the International Plaza Hotel
Sunday, July 13, 2014
5 minutes
Freud, 1938, Vienna
Lou Lipsitz
See, my Dad isn't the kind of guy who'll kiss you on the forehead and tell you that he loves you. That's just not who he is. He's more slap you on the ass and call you a "shit". He was raised my an Army General. He'd moved fifteen times before he was eighteen. It does something to you, moving so much. I remember when I graduated from High School and he and my Mom came down from Georgia. "Well son, you've gotten yourself this far. Don't mess it up now…" he said. My Mom brought me flowers and there was a cheque for five hundred dollars in a card that she'd signed for both of them.
"September I'll remember" by Julia on her couch
Thursday, July 17, 2014
5 minutes
April Come She Will
Simon And Garfunkel
Having met you that one day, it uh, it really rocked me. It was like meeting the moon. Does that make..I'm just. I'm trying to sound honest, I guess. Or uh, expressive. You made me realize how closed off I'd been. I'm, I know you're with someone, so I'm not, you know, I don't want you to think that I..I'm just. Maybe you were right. Can barely get a thought out. I think you made a good point. And, you know, maybe you were right about me. I don't know if I had uh, met you the day before or the day after if I would feel the same way I do now..Maybe I wouldn't have been able to hear you at all if it, uh, were, you know, in any other minute than when it was. Your words. They were buzzing, uh, you know sort of resonating I guess, with my whole. Yeah. I. Thank you. I am so bad at this. Wow. I'm trying not to sound like the biggest idiot and yet that's all I seem to be able to do. I'm glad it happened. Meeting you. I really am.
"Hear all year" by Sasha at the International Plaza Hotel
Saturday July 12, 2014
5 minutes
from a banner at Winnipeg Folk Fest
I love the three blonde hairs on each of my big toes,
Marking the place where the under meets the world.
I love the strength of my calves,
Pedalling me from West to East,
Leading me to you,
and to God,
and to the lavender.
I love the width of my hips,
perfect for leaning,
perfect for holding,
perfect for stretching and carrying.
I love the round of my belly,
full of abundance,
full of arugula salad
and the legacy of the women that have come before.
I love the small hands,
able to stretch across piano keys,
across keyboard keys,
able to hold a pen like none other,
able to alchemize stories into gold.
"Ha parlato troppo" by Sasha at the International Plaza Hotel
Friday July 11, 2014
5 minutes
overheard on Corydon
You call me and you're breathless
You're sobbing
You're hiccuping.
I say,
"Breath Betsy, breath…"
And you try to listen
But it's hard.
You tell me that they've been killed
the little girls you nanny
five and nine
brown hair in braids you tied.
I say,
"Breath Betsy…"
And you try.
"They haven't found who did it…"
You repeat
as if it might help.
"Come over," I say,
And you silently decline.
You'd been there five hours earlier
And then their mother had come home
had forgotten something at the grocery store
"Zucchini," you say.
She'd gone out to get it
Leaving the girls alone.
She'd done it before.
When she got back
the house was quiet.
"mostly tiny sungrazing comets" by Julia on her couch
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
5 minutes
from the Sun Wikipedia page
And we lay there in the grass, picking bushels of it out of the earth to sniff them, or to play them like flutes in the middle of the night. We waited for the sun to pop up again. We were waiting on its predictable rotation. The way we wait for a mother's call, a friend's best wishes when we're near the death of someone close. We wait in the stillness gazing up at the sky, wishing for the night to retire gracefully to its bed so we could watch the warming of the sky take over. And we lay there in the grass, picking moments to kiss each others' hands and necks and lips. We played those moments over and over again in our heads, recognizing the opportune times to touch one another not out of obligation but out of necessity. The orange was peeking up from beneath a distant hill as we wished.
"Submit where you can" by Julia on her bed
Tuesday July 15, 2014
5 minutes
from a scrap paper
Lady at the counter said she saw me slip the lipchap into my bag and I told her, I said, no that wasn't me, I don't steal. And she cocked her head to the side all judgy and she said that she knew what she saw and that liars are the worst kind of thieves. I said, no, maybe you need glasses or something, but it wasn't me, and i didn't do what you think you saw me do. So I tried to walk out because this lady was just sitting there acting all tough, and trying to intimidate me. And then, the next thing I know, she's got her hand on my shoulder and she's firmly pressing in. I was like, look lady, I don't want any trouble. And she said, well if you know what's good for you, you'll let me search your bag. And I hated her even more then because it wasn't her right to do that, and I knew it. But I didn't want her to win, so I threw my bag onto the ground. Make her work for it, I thought. Make that damn lady bend over and throw her back out just trying to prove a point. Teach her something today, maybe. Then she grabs my bag and dumps it on the ground. Just everything comes pouring out and I'm standing there hunched over, watching all my stuff fly. I know it's in here, she said while she emptied it. I know I saw you put the damn thing in.
"Feed your creative juices" by Julia on her couch
Monday, July 14, 2014
5 minutes
from a pencil case
First things first-hi, how are you, don't answer that, are you well, don't answer that. Second things second-did you return that dvd to that damn store that is always trying to take our life savings, don't answer that. Seconds things should maybe be first things. Whatever. Hi. How are you? Respect, respect. Did you-okay, sorry. I'm a nag. I was born that way. I have a lot of questions, mostly about things I suspect you've failed to do so asking really doesn't change anything, but god, yes, I want it to. I was born that way! It's in my blood, my ingrown hairs– Well, if I had ingrown hairs. I know what you're going to say, blah blah, nobody will want to marry me if I have scars all on my arms, but I don't have ingrown hairs because those things, those itty bitty life problems are now solved because I wouldn't settle for leaving them where they belong. I am acutely aware that I have nagged my ingrown hairs so much so that–hi. Hi! I'm sorry. First things first! Rewind! Hi. I've missed you. Did you clean the litter box? OH MY GOD. WHO AM I. Don't answer that.
"they are content with burning my books" by Julia on her couch
Sunday, July 13, 2014
5 minutes
Freud, 1938, Vienna
Lou Lipsitz
So I come home (hard day), the radio's blasting (of course it is), and Jeremiah is sitting cross-legged on the cold linoleum (of course he is) surrounded by a perfectly stacked circle of all my books. I stand there in the doorway (leaning) just looking at him (confused), while he hums the alphabet song (leaving out J and S, I can only assume), and touches each book as if for the very first time. He's deciding (magically) which ones he'll discard (burn) at the final moment (3:33pm), while I question every single reason (mole, laugh, orgasm) why I'm still with him.
"Hear all year" by Julia at Burts Hill Provincial Park
Saturday July 12, 2014
5 minutes
from a banner at Winnipeg Folk Fest
That's what they want you to say. They want you to say, no problem, no worries, it's all good, blah blah blah. But really they're right in the middle of taking advantage of you when they get you to utter anything like those stupid things they're banking on. It's like a weird tribe or cult that they obviously have training in and are therefore prepared for whatever answer you give, but I'm telling you, from experience or whatever, that you don't have to feel tricked or bullied. Don't let them get in your head and remember what you did when you were a kid and you got asked point blank if it was you who stole grandma's perfume out of the drawer. Try and remember that exact response. The look of shock and maybe hurt that someone could even think of doing something so awful to your dear dear grandma, then the no that says, if you don't find who did this, I will. That's what I need you to summon from your bones cause I know you didn't throw that feeling away. I know you still have it living inside of you for times like these. Don't get soft and give in. I don't want you running down the stairs crying cause the guilt of actually stealing her perfume made you feel so bad that you had to confess. There's no room for that here, understand?
"I am not sure at all" by Sasha in her garden
Thursday July 10, 2014
5 minutes
from a quote by Erica Jong
You think you're so cool with your street art and your tattoos and your ironic name. "Joan". Your parents didn't know that you were going to get that haircut, okay. They didn't. When you were a baby they probably thought that "Joan" was a sophisticated, pant-suit kinda name. They definitely didn't think about the fact that, twenty three years in the future, you were going to take MDMA like calcium, and forget the difference between "high" and "low". I'm sorry, I know I'm being aggressive, but… I'm so fucking angry at you! You come in and you say, "Americano," but I know what you really mean is, "I'm better than you." And, you are. Or, your art is. How street art can be in a gallery, earning you sixty G's a year is really beyond me, but… So are a lot of things. Joan. Next time, say "please" or "thank you" or chuck a quarter in the tip jar. Please. Thanks. Oh, and my name is Andy. Like, Warhol.
"I watch a news clip of" by Sasha in her garden
Wednesday July 9, 2014
5 minutes
We Should Do Something
Laurel Leigh
I watch the news clip again and again and I can't believe he said it and I can't believe it's real.
"Are you sure?"
"How sure?"
"I went to the fucking doctor."
She's crying and he's on the other side of the road, wringing his hands, hanging his head, shuffling his feet.
"Rebecca, you've gotten yourself into a very delicate position…"
There are other ways I can think of putting it. There are others ways I can think of. There are other ways that a man can turn away, can run, can forget to return your phone calls or your iPhone charger.
"I'm sorry. We should've been more careful…" Is what he says.
I'm drowning.
"Why don't you meet me at Frans for breakfast and we can talk this out in person?" He's whispering, which means she's close by.
"No I will not fucking eat pancakes while you tell me to get an abortion!" I scream and I feel his silence like a knife in my ribs. I hang up the phone.
I call my mother.
"Accountants, Tax Consultants" by Sasha on her couch
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
5 minutes
from a Monahan and Associates sign
"You're gonna inherit this hellhole you know," my sister says. She's sipping on a coffee, so her breath reeks. "Thanks for that. That's really helpful right now," I hiss. It's tax season. We're there, at the family business, helping our mother and father with filing and sorting. Simple. We've taken the day off of school. We've done this since we were able to read. My mother would call the office early in the morning, "Bobby and Imogen Fernandes are unwell today," we'd roll our eyes and eat our Cheerios. My father calls to me from his desk, "Bobby! Bring me the stapler!" I do and I notice, for the first time, that he's an old man. It seems to have happened in a blink – one moment he was the strong man lifting me from the cradle of the tree branches when I was too afraid to jump and the next he's wrinkled and bald, smelling of mothballs and pipe smoke.
"Parking available at the rear" by Sasha at her desk
Monday, July 7, 2014
5 minutes
from a window sign
He wears red sandals, made of leather, and his are trimmed and tidy. You wouldn't know that he spends most of his time barefoot, in the gardens of the Raj. His robes are often muddy, caked with work, with earth, but not today. He wears loose-fitting linen pants and a long chemise. He smiles often, especially at you. You go to him. You say, "Uncle, I'm lost." He takes your hands and he leads you to the roses. You spend hours there, fingering the petals and kissing the thorns.
"Ha parlato troppo" by Julia at her table
Friday July 11, 2014
5 minutes
overheard on Corydon
I haven't told him yet
I'm waiting for the one and only right moment
And when I do I know that he will understand
That life is full of promises that you don't forget
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
Opened up the door to a secret place
I know that if I stayed I'd have to keep it that way
A hundred lies and cover ups on every day
Cause if I didn't know any better then I would say
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
Yeah life
Yeah life
Yeah yeah yeah
"I am not sure at all" by Julia at Dufferin Grove Park
Thursday July 10, 2014
5 minutes
from a quote by Erica Jong
From your shaky hand on my shoulder, marking the birthmark we lovingly call "Africa", I can feel what you want even if it's gentle and smooth. The touch, from another, in any shape or form always reaches the insides more than we think they will. You tell me you're here now and that you will be here tomorrow. I love you for that, and for that alone if I didn't already love you for all your other things. Your skin on my skin makes me feel rare and luminous and open and strong. You look me up and down and you say, "your beauty." And you mean it. And somehow in this shared circumstance "your beauty" is better than "you're beautiful" because you don't think before you say it, and it comes from your truth place.
"I watch a news clip of" by Julia at Jessica's kitchen table
Wednesday July 9, 2014
5 minutes
We Should Do Something
Laurel Leigh
On the radio there is a big discussion about will we go to war or won't we
I sit on the bathroom floor with a towel over my head and a stick of beef jerky in my mouth
I haven't spoken to you in days
I haven't spoken to anyone in weeks
The radio man plays the same songs and the same commercials and the same sound effects
He asks us about our days but doesn't wait for a response
He asks us about our fears but
doesn't give us a chance to answer
I haven't spoken to you in days
I haven't spoken to anyone in weeks
The war is on the war is off
I sit on the bathroom floor just thinking about it all.
"Accountants, Tax Consultants" by Julia on Jessica's couch
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
5 minutes
from a Monahan and Associates sign
-Okay so Ruby called and she wants to know if you want those "files" sent over to the office, or straight to your house.
-Tell her not to phone here anymore.
-I can't really do that.
-Well don't answer the phone when she calls then.
-She's calling from so many different numbers. I don't have all of them memorized.
-Okay well the next time Ruby calls, just tell her you'll pass on the message, but don't actually pass on the message.
-Okay. What numbers has she been calling from?
-Area codes?
-Umm..519, 647, 204
-Really? 204?
-Just the once. That one was a desperate sounding one.
-Should I go back to my desk now?
"Parking available at the rear" by Julia on Jessica's couch
Monday, July 7, 2014
5 minutes
from a window sign
I don't know if you know this, but I just got my license so I am free now and I can ride.
I can be the party bus.
I can be the one you call. Don't drink and drive! So if you want to, I'll take you there.
I'll go anywhere. Just as long as I can get out of the house. It's stuffy inside. It feels like the walls are made of rock crumble and at any moment it could come crashing down on me, burying me alive in all the rubble.
My mother is a sweetheart. She watches TV all day and tells me to heat up the carrots for dinner.
Nobody likes cooked carrots around here. Not even her. But she doesn't know what else to feed me and she's scared if she doesn't I'll go blind.
I heat up the carrots and put them on her TV tray beside the couch. She doesn't even sniff them. They sit there all night. I don't eat mine either so the house smells like warm mushy carrot and I don't know if she knows this, but it's not helping her case against my future blindness.
I want to get out and just drive along the highway.
I want to roll the windows down and breathe in the fresh freedom that I've been so hopeful for.
I want to drive away and never come back.
My mother is a sweetheart, but she won't even know I'm gone.
"I don't buy Made In China," by Julia on Jessica's couch
Sunday, July 6, 2014
5 minutes
I buy nice things and only nice things
I buy something new every day
every day
I buy nice trinkets
I buy nice glass
I buy something new every week
every week
My toenails are always done up with style
I paint them a new colour every time I yawn
I buy nail polish every day, every day
I buy something new every week
I won't buy something that was owned from somebody else first
I won't accept hand-me-downs
I don't even mind if things aren't on sale
I don't even mind
My house is decorated with beige and gold
I don't hang things on the walls that look cheap
The light fixtures are ornate
The bathroom sink is a pearl
I don't even live there
I live at the shops
I buy something new every day
I buy nice things and only nice things
I buy something new so I can feel good
I buy something new so I never feel old
I buy something new so I can boast
I buy something new because it's the only thing I'm good at
"Who names herself "Samantha"" by Julia at Assiniboine Park
Saturday, July 5, 2014
5 minutes
It was a gift from her father, naming all the pretty things he loved. Didn't give her the name specifically, but didn't take it away either. His name was Sam and he was a soul you couldn't help but love. A lot of sweetness in that man. And then when his baby girl was born, we knew. We all knew: She would be an extension. She would be a reminder. He didn't live long into her life. We all thought he'd have more time. One day he mentioned that he could feel pain in his bones; that they felt hollow. It was a sign, and we knew to listen, but we didn't want to stop him from living. She, the little pretty thing, was a spitting image. Close ones called her Sam when they were feeling his presence in the room. She'd respond with a lightness in her face. She was lifted. And we made sure to tell her everyday that Daddy would have been so happy to know you and thank you for reminding us that he's still here.
It was hard at first hearing the name and not seeing his face. But somehow over time, we managed to look past it without looking through her.
"I don't buy Made In China," by Sasha at Lit on Roncesvalles
Sunday, July 6, 2014
4:27pm at Lit Espresso Bar
5 minutes
It's okay to love cake and spirituality. It's okay to sing really loud when riding your bike but not when walking – one's fleeting and one's slow. I get it. It's okay that you visit churches after dark and that you steal a candle, half burnt, heavy with a strangers prayer. It's okay that even at the family reunion you feel lonely – surrounded by people who share your blood but not your ideals surrounding karma or your beliefs about pugs. It's so right that when paint your eyelids with turquoise glitter, it's an homage to your grandmother. When I hear you say, "I don't buy Made In China," I don't think that you're righteous, I think that you have convictions and that they're gorgeous.
"Who names herself "Samantha"" by Sasha at Tarragon Theatre
Saturday, July 5, 2014 at Tarragon Theatre
5 minutes
We were walking down Palmerston and a memory hit me like a meteor, hit me right in the forehead. I was afraid that you might see me bleeding, or that you might know what I'm thinking so I said, "Oh shit! I'm late for… a thing! With… my dog!" "You have a dog?" you said, blinking lots and looking sweet and baby-like. "Yup!" And, I ran away. I ran back the way we came and when I got to Bloor St. my phone was ringing. It was you. "Hi?" I said, out of breath. "What happened?" You asked, filled with risk and love and maybe a two-tiered popsicle. "I just… I got hit and I couldn't keep going and I didn't want to subject you to neurosis or tears or needing to stop and sit on the curb…" Now, I was crying. "Where are you?" You said. "Near the library," I replied, my bum hitting the pavement, my shoes on the sewer grate.
"100th Birthday Party" by Sasha on her couch
Friday, July 4, 2014
5 minutes
A poster at Cafe D'Amour
He stood with his arms open in the lavender field. He forgot about his sore throat from shouting along to the music, his blue toenail (stepped on by a cow), his own impending mortality. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up, towards the clouds, towards the moon, towards the sun, towards where he was going and where he came from. He felt tears. He felt the growing gap of here and there, where he'd been and where we are all going. He heard faint calls, his name, his place. He fell backwards, gently, slowly, it's possible. He opened his eyes.
"100th Birthday Party" by Julia in her bed
Friday, July 4, 2014
5 minutes
a poster at Cafe D'amour
A hundred days even seems longer than a hundred years. I mean, I know it's obviously not longer. I know that. But it feels easier to comprehend, to grasp, maybe. If I have to explain I'd say because a hundred years doesn't even seem to exist at all, therefore in comparison to something that does exist (100 days), it seems like less. You know,cause ghosts are infinitely less human than humans–right? If this doesn't make sense, I apologize. I used to be so good with expression and communication. I guess now that I've been doing this for a hundred years…whoops…there I go, proving my point even there! 100 years in declarations, in hyperbole, does not exist at all–the listener understands it and is not annoyed by it as its usage is wildly celebrated, therefore proving that it's not real. It's the forever amount of time. It's infinity. From here to there-from now to 100 years.
"a few pieces of furniture" by Julia at Cafe D'amour
Thursday, July 3, 2014
2:22pm at Cafe D'Amour
5 minutes
Design UK
Max Fraser
You know it was hard for her, cause she had to fast, but my sister was saying that the colonoscopy results showed nothing. Yes. She's really starting to slide. We're not sure what this is, if it's part of her cancer condition-you know, we keep having to watch her fall a part and it's kind of emotional for us. Okay. Well I would appreciate it if you could pass it on. Like I said, I think it'd be nice to get her a wheelchair just so she can feel like she's–yes. Oh excellent. Thank you so much. But if you can pass on to Doctor Lowen about her physical condition. We're just worried about–yes I know it's not actually officially cancer. But something's in her lung, something's in her brain. We need to have some answers here. No, no, Yana, I appreciate you getting back to me. Thank you so much. They eliminated the lumps in her uterus, they say they're benign, but you know, we have all those other tests to get scheduled. And you know what I've been hearing is that all the guys who run those tests are just out on vacation right now. Well thank you, I'm glad that you–oh sure, we will. We'll be in touch. Thanks again for getting back to me Yana. Thank you for understanding, it's been a bit rough for us. Okay well I'll tell my mother you send your best, of course. Bye now, Yana.
Sorry about that. I just needed to get that call. I don't normally answer. Anyway, what's your timeline today?
"a few pieces of furniture" by Sasha at La Merceria
Thursday, July 3, 2014
11:11am at La Merceria
5 minutes
Design UK
Max Fraser
He sent me a money tree for my nineteenth birthday. There was a note, scrawled on the back of a receipt:
Happy Birthday, Sara.
Love, Your Old Man.
It wasn't in the best shape, the money tree. Who knows how long it had travelled, how thirty it was. I was mad at him for sending me something that was living and needed care and attention. Those things didn't come easily to him.
I put it in the window of my room. The corner of its leaves started to turn brown so I moved it out of the bright light.
"we dare be brave" by Sasha on her porch
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
5 minutes
Touched by an Angel
Maya Angelou
By choosing this, we dare to be brave. By choosing each other, we dare greater than we ever dared. We dare wide, we dare bright, we dare into the deep bat caves and find clumps of hair and photographs of when we were smaller, less brave versions of ourselves now.
We dare to be brave when we break. We dare higher when we leave what we have loved to find what we will love. We dare when we pack our favorite things in boxes and leave them by the side of the road. We have made so many promises. They sink to the bottom or they float on top. One or two have sprouted lilies. One or three have turned to weeds at the bottom and tickle our feet when we swim.
"get a rise outta you!" by Sasha in her garden
Tuesday July 1, 2014
5 minutes
from the Phoenix Rising espresso bag
Bella: You know what, Heather? You need a reality check. Faster than this fucking heat wave. You're forgetting that floral wasn't what it was this year, last year… Last year we could barely move that whole wall! No one fucking wanted it! And now –
Heather: I know everything you're saying! You're treating me like I'm an idiot!
Bella: I'm simply trying to explain to you that –
Heather: You're trying to get a rise out of me.
Bella: I am. You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just… We are being forced to expand here and if we don't go for it we're going to regret it. For sure. We're going to –
Heather: We are going for it. We just have different ideas of what that looks like!
Bella: We can't have different ideas! We're fucking partners!
Heather: Bella. You need to calm down. We need to talk about this like adults.
Bella: Do you even care?
Heather: What?
Bella: Do you even care about what happens here?
Heather: What are you talking about?
Bella: Ever since you got knocked up you really seem to have your head in the clouds. Or, your womb.
"If you want to change the world" by Sasha at ideal coffee
Monday June 30, 2014 at ideal coffee
5 minutes
from a poster at Second Cup
Sucking on bones from a barbecued chicken, eaten directly from the container, my twin sister Adelaide tries to tell me how to live my life. "Sebastian, you just gotta, like, get over yourself and go back!" She's licking her fingers. I'm three and a half minutes older than her and never has a snippet short period of time mattered more. She's talking about college. I was there on scholarship. I was there to write. I was there because I needed to get out of Prince George and be far far away from her, and our father and our little brother Augustus, who'd just turned seven. I'd come home because our father had a relapse. Adelaide is three hundred and sixteen pounds and can barely get off the rocking chair she lives in. Augustus spends half time with his mother, thank God, but still has needs. Adelaide told me not to come home. The next morning I was back.
"Four letter challenge!" by Sasha at her kitchen table
Sunday June 29, 2014
5 minutes
It was the first time
and the last time
It was covered in green glitter
and honeydew breath
It was the first time
and the last time
It was a four letter challenge
and a three letter dance
It was the first time
and the last time
It left more scars on my than you
but I'm okay with that
Scars are currency where I come from
It was the first time
and the last time
We followed the white squirrel
all the way to the river
We took off our sandals
We waded in
Up to our thighs
They could hear our squeals
"we dare be brave" by Julia on her couch
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
5 minutes
Touched by an Angel
Maya Angelou
We dare to be brave
me writing this in front of you
me exposing my skin
me going in for a kiss when you might not kiss back
We dare
oh we've seen it
on subways
on bilboards
on front yards of your neighbours, your sisters, your dentist's boss
we dare to
with passion
with ease
with openness
we dare to be brave
me letting you hear one of my songs
me laughing so hard while wearing the worst socks
me burning the chicken the second night in a row
we have to. we have to dare to dare.
that's where the truly beautiful parts hide.
that's where the honest, raw, and flawed thing lives.
We want her to feel safe. We want to let her out.
"I don't understand why I sleep all day" by Sasha in her garden
Saturday June 28 2014
5 minutes
No Rain
Blind Melon
When I first met Bobby, we were at a party just off campus. He was tall and muscular and he smoked drum. We talked about not being from this city and what it was like to miss home. He kissed me by the shrubs and asked for my phone number. We dated, on and off, for three years. It was really good for the first year, okay the second year and by the third year I was running to my friend Tina's place with bruises on my ribs and tears on my cheeks. Bobby grew up with three older brothers. They were ruthless with eachother – any time he'd speak about his childhood I would cringe. One night, I went into the den where Bobby was watching TV. I could see the fog over his head, rage was on it's way. I looked at him and said, "I'm leaving you for two months. If you don't get help in that time, I'm gone for good." I packed a knapsack and went to stay with my mother. What Bobby didn't know is that I was pregnant. When I got to my mother's I slept all day for the first week. The second week, I roasted lots of vegetables and cried to my mother about the dream of happiness and health evaporating.
"get a rise outta you!" by Julia at The Forks
Tuesday July 1, 2014 at The Forks
5 minutes
from the Phoenix Rising espresso bag
He started doing it to me when we first met. It was before we were allowed to love each other. Probably because I told a different person and I also told myself that I would be committed to him. The other person. I had met him first, he was my first real relationship. It wasn't a forever thing but it was a then thing. So was he. The other other person. The one I wanted to love but wasn't allowed to yet. I would look at him while he glanced around the room taking everyone in and learning something that even they didn't know about themselves with just one silent look. I would hope that he was looking at me like that. From the inside out. And I would dream about leaving the person I had for the person I wanted but didn't fully know the magnitude of that desire at the time. And he made sure that I kept wanting him. Because he'd tell me things that I'd believe just because it was coming out of his mouth, when really he was just seeing how much I would allow. I didn't know there was such a thing as learning someone from the inside out. He showed me that. He once took off his glasses and convinced me that his eyes were wonky without them. He asked me if I thought he should get contacts. I said no.
"If you want to change the world" by Julia at Second Cup in Winnipeg
Monday June 30, 2014 at Second Cup
5 minutes
from a poster at Second Cup
I guess stop talking about the elderly as if they're barnyard animals? I guess don't say "that chick is just skin and bones" or "that chick shakes when she stands cause she's just all skin and bones." I think that's the first step; to give all people an equal chance at existing without prejudice. I don't know from where I sand–from where I sit–it just feels like there's more to talk about than the people we know and especially when they're not in the room. I was taught that once anyway. "Don't have conversations with people who aren't in the room." I guess that's about breakups or asking for things, mainly, but it could also mean that it's better to not talk about someone who can't defend themselves. There are other steps too-you know–if you want to change the world. First I'd say carry a quarter in your pocket everywhere you go so you can give it to someone who needs it more than you if you have the chance. Second I'd say that praying helps.


text:
Paul Mitchell Dry Wash Dry Shampoo (50ml), Travel Size, Express Dry Waterless Shampoo
Keep your hair looking fresh between washes with Paul Mitchell Dry Wash Dry Shampoo (50ml). Specially formulated to absorb excess oil, improve texture and add body at the roots, it will revive and refresh your hair without leaving any residue behind. Suitable for all hair types and colours, it will also help your style to last for days, whilst giving your locks a clean scent. – L.M.
Directions for Use:
- Spray onto the roots
- Massage in with your fingertips
- Brush through

subset: commoncrawl


text:
Classic Double
Relax for the night in one of our beautiful Classic Rooms. It's perfect for a lovely, relaxing night away which will leave you feeling refreshed. When you wake up, head to the delicious Tap & Pantry to enjoy a full English breakfast.
- Double bed
- En-suite
- Complimentary toiletries
- Complimentary mineral water
- Tea & coffee making facilities


text:
Thunderstorms last night have left the world cooler and damp and smelling of Florida. Even here in the middle of the city, I hear chickens clucking & warbling to themselves. If I close my eyes, I could be on my Aunt's farm in Alachua.
Thunderstorms last night have left the world cooler and damp and smelling of Florida. Even here in the middle of the city, I hear chickens clucking & warbling to themselves. If I close my eyes, I could be on my Aunt's farm in Alachua.
April 08, 2013 at 05:33 AM in Florida | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I was going through a box of old papers this evening, and came across something I wrote on the plane while on my way to San Diego for my interview in 2005. Apparently I intended to post it here, and simply never did...until now!
"To be posted later:
12:05pm Central, Tuesday, June 7, 2005
On the plane, preparing for my interview...
Reading and re-reading information about UCSD Libraries & people. From the UCSD Libraries Strategic Plan 2002-2005:
Strategy 1: Organizational Effectiveness
Cultivate a healthy, diverse and dynamic environment that attracts and retains competent and creative employees. Structure our organization to motivate and enable Library employees to provide the highest-quality services. (emphasis added)
As Smitty would say - Must be Nice!"
It sounded good reading it then, and in six years working at UCSD, I'd say this grand sounding strategy was actually part of the institutional culture of the library. Like most goals, not every aspect always 100% realized, but more than just words that look good on paper.
May 25, 2012 at 07:16 PM in Friends, Library, San Diego | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
There have been a couple times over the last several years I haven't gotten to spend Chip's birthday with him. But in the past, I've missed his birthday because I'm away briefly for a conference, not because I'm actually living somewhere else. So even though I'll get to see him and celebrate with him this weekend, it's still different somehow. I've been thinking about him a lot today & how wonderful he is. Here's one of my favorite pictures of him from our trip this summer, eating in a little cafe in Edinburgh.
January 10, 2012 at 05:35 PM in Life, Love, Photos | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Cooking for one instead of two means there are less nights it seems worth spending a lot of time to do something overly complicated. It also means, I east whatever I like, without worry if Chip will like it, even if its the same thing night after night. One of my dinner staples is Palak Paneer. Delicious spicy spinach and soft cheese. Trader Joe's has a great boxed version that is super easy, and even easier when you make it with their frozen rice. Five minutes in the microwave and you're ready to eat. But, could it really be that hard to make myself? And surely it'd be healthier.
I've looked several times for paneer cheese in various grocery stores & markets to use in various Indian inspired dishes, but I've never found it. Earlier this week, I finally looked up how to make paneer. No wonder I've never found it in the store! It's so easy to make, why bother selling it pre-made! It's basically cooked, curdled milk, strained of all whey. Today, I picked up all the ingredients for the palak paneer, and made the paneer.
I used a couple different recipes I found online to inform my paneer. Here's what I did.
Mix lemon juice and warm water & set aside
Bring 8 cup (1 half gallon) milk just barely to a boil. Stir in water and lemon juice and stir until the milk fat separates into large curds and the whey is clear and separate from the curds. My whey looked yellowish, but some recipes said it would look greenish.
Remove from heat & let cool. Use the cheesecloth to strain over a large bowl. Squeeze out as much liquid as you can. Rinse the pressed curds (still in the cheesecloth) under running water and press again. Apparently, this should take away the sharpness & acidity of the lemon juice. Form the cheese in a disc re-wrap in the cheesecloth. Set heavy pan or weight on top of the disc for about 2 hours to squeeze out all the excess liquid.
And done! See how easy? It took a while, but it was mostly waiting for the excess liquid to be squeezed out.
So, what about the whey left behind? I have a large mason jar of whey left over from cheese making process. A few suggestions I found online: use it as a milk substitute in biscuits or bread; use it instead of water in cooking rice; make ricotta cheese. Luckily it will keep for a few days so I have a little time to decide.
Here's the final outcome, a beautiful disc of paneer. Tomorrow I'll try using it in palak paneer. Hopefully that will be my dinner & reward at the end of the day!
January 07, 2012 at 09:24 PM in Cooking & Baking, Food | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I always find myself buying beautiful note cards. They're so tempting, with their captivating pictures, and blank insides - ready for whatever one might have to say. The problem is, I hardly ever use them. I mean to, and I plan to, and I occasionally actually do, but almost never through the mail. I think about writing people letters, about what I have to say, but I rarely sit down and write. Often, because it seems like so much to say, and then the next time I think about it, there's that much more to say. So much to say, it paralyzes me into not saying anything at all.
I read an article a few weeks ago that made think about the magic of the mail, and how we don't need to say everything we ever wanted to say, just to send a letter. The article was actually about a Twitter by Post experiment - the author spent a month writing postcards of everything he usually would have posted to Twitter. He described the experiment, included pictures of his postcard "tweets" and then about halfway through the author wrote:
"Back when people wrote letters, they didn't have to be the long catch-ups that people tend to write today. We write long letters now because we hardly write letters at all, so we feel obliged to make them something special, to pad them out with lots of news. This makes them long and tedious to write, which means we're disinclined to write letters; so we don't write any at all..."
That made me stop and think. Already I had felt inspired to send people things in the mail. There is something so special about opening your mailbox and finding something in there someone sent just for you...not a catalog or a bill or junk. But a card or note. Usually I only find those in mail box around Christmas, my birthday and the occiaionsal wedding invitation. How nice would it be to make other people mailboxes sparkle at random? And it wouldn't to be anthing long, or insightful or news worthy, just a card, a brief hello.
I don't usually make New Year's resolutions, but this year I am. By the end of 2012, this box of cards will be gone. Sent to friends and relatives, hopefully bringing a smile to their face as they open their mailbox and find an unexpected surprise. I'm planning to work my way through my address book, what is left of an address book (maybe I need a new one?). If you think I don't have your real world address, and you'd like to receive a note from me, please email, Direct Message me, send me a message on Facebook, whatever medium is easiest for you. In the spirit of things, you don't ned to say anything, just write out your address.
This evening after work, I stopped by the post office and got my first book of stamps. I will certainly need more, but it is a good place to start.
January 04, 2012 at 08:04 PM in Adventures, Reflections, Writing | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
"I learned this, at least, by my experiment: that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."
-- Henry David Thoreau, Walden
As quoted in an interesting article about changing the words of famous people so their inspirations are pithier and more exclamitory. Above is the real line, as written by Thoreau in Walden. No exclamation points needed.
September 01, 2011 at 07:54 AM in Life, Quotes | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
I've finally posted all the photos from our trip! They're up online on my picasa page if you'd like to see them, but there are A LOT!
A taste of Edinburgh, crowds on the Royal Mile:
August 13, 2011 at 05:57 PM in Photos, Travel | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Stonehenge may be the most dramatic and well known of the Stone Circles in Britain, but it is far from the only one. Since our travels would not be taking us in the direction of Stonehenge, and we had a car for a week of our time in Britain, I decided I would fine another stone circle for us to visit. As luck would have it Mitchell's Fold, a stone circle labeled but not named on our Britain Road Atlas, was not terribly far from where we stayed in Shropshire. After a Sunday afternoon (7/17) in lovely Shrewsbury we headed out in search of the stone circle on our map.
The day was a little stormy, raining on and off, with a blustery wind that picked up the higher up you went. Little did we know as started out from Shrewsbury, this was going to be the most exciting adventure of our trip, leading us far off the beaten path. We drove most of the way on a main road, out in the country, but still a main thoroughfare, until the directions I had pulled up on the iphone indicated we should turn off on to a narrowroad, still large enough for two cars. On our right as we turned was a field with the stone ruins of a small building. As we drove, our paved road turned to dirt. We crossed over a livestock/cattle guard and kept going, as Chip asked, was I sure we were going the right way? Then our road abruptly ended with a sign that said we were entering a private road, only foot traffic allowed. Luckily, the map on the iphone still showed we were going in the right direction, giving us the courage to pull off the road and park in a small patch of sheep poop filled grass, and continue on foot.
We started off up the private road, passing a small house where a dog watched our progress and a farmer waved. Up we went, the path getting steeper and rockier, wild looking sheep looking at us as we passed. At this point we were glad to have parked the car, it probably wouldn't have made it up, especially with all the mud. We passed another farm house, and then as we climbed higher , it was just us and the sheep, and tall grass on either side, until finally up ahead and above, Chip spotted the circle.
Its scale is small, only 15 stones left of maybe 30, most broken, only one or two standing at the height of a person. But from here, it seems you can see forever, Wales spread out to the west, England to the east. And you can see why, 3000 years ago, people chose this as a spot for something special, whatever it may have been. Paths lead up to the circle from all four sides, there must be other ways people get here and find this place. But our way was exciting and felt like a real adventure of discovery. What amazed us most, or struck us as the most foreign thing about the place was that up in that wild sheep pasture, with no seeming official place to p ark or even way to get there, there was still an official English Heritage plaque explaining the site. It's hard to imagine an attraction or site in the US that is important enough to be given some official designation, but where you're not given clear directions or instructions for how to get there, where it's ok to park, etc. Luckily, none of that had stopped us, and we'd found the circle. Our reward was a grand and awe inspiring view of an ancient and beautiful place.
For more pictures from this adventure, including some glaring sheep, check out pictures from our trip on picasa. Part 2, Shropshire is where you'll find more from Mitchell's Fold.
July 31, 2011 at 06:38 PM in Adventures, Nature, Photos, Travel | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Today was the last full day of our UK vacation. We packed it full of more London exploring and a last bit of souvenir shopping. We fly home tomorrow afternoon, leaving at 3pm and arriving at 6pm, we'll be in the air for eleven hours with the sun chasing, but never catching us. We've had a great time on our trip & I plan to write more about our adventures and post more pictures after we get back home!
Picture below: me, at our last stop of the day.
July 26, 2011 at 03:03 PM in Identity, Photos, Travel | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
Today (Wednesday) we leave York and head for Scotland, stopping for a few adventures of the way. I'm falling behind in my posting (and pictures!) but am so tired from all the fun we have each day it's hard to keep up! I still plan to post about the rest of our adventures in Shropshire as well as on the Peak District and in the beautiful York. But for now it's onwards and north! Tonight we sleep in Scotland!
July 20, 2011 at 01:29 AM in Travel | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack (0)


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Publications Committee
The Publications Committee is in charge of our quarterly newsletter, The Southwestern Archivist. The chair for this committee is nominated by the president and approved by the board. Visit the newsletter page to learn more about the committee members and how to submit information.
|Nicholas Wojcik, Sam Noble Museum of Natural History, University of Oklahoma
|Krishna Shenoy, The Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza
|Paulita Aguilar, University of New Mexico [For New Mexico news]
|Shelly Croteau, Missouri State Archives [For out-of-region news]
|Elizabeth Lisa Cruces [For South and West Texas news]
|Amanda Hudson, Chickasaw Cultural Center [For Oklahoma news]
|Shannon Lausch, University of Arkansas at Little Rock [For Arkansas news]
|Jennifer Mitchell, Louisiana State University [For Louisiana news]
|Patrizia Nava, University of Texas Dallas [For North Texas news]
|Krishna Shenoy, The Sixth Floor Museum at Dealey Plaza [Leadership Log]
|Dani Stuchel, University of Arizona student [For Arizona news]


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Company Culture: "Fun Work" Isn't an Oxymoron
Is your office a dull work environment?
For many businesses, the workplace was and still is considered a very formal, quiet buildiing full of cubicles and filing cabinets.
While there's nothing wrong with this, your company might benefit from a more relaxed, playful atmosphere.
Take Google for example. Formed in 1998 by Larry Page and Sergey Brin, Google's company culture resembles a playground more than a workspace.


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Last year, a Bangladeshi girl named Oishee (a Yaba addict) killed her parents – which in turn – has shed some light on the growing drug problem in Bangladesh.
Yaba is the slang word for methamphetamine, or meth. In Thai, the word translates literally into 'crazy drug' which seems like a particularly good name – as Oishee's case is not alone. Fashion designer Gianni Versace was murdered in 1997 by a meth-addict, and Timothy McVeigh, who was involved in the Oklahoma bombing, claims to have been under the influence of meth during the incident. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. When it comes to violent acts committed under the influence of Yaba, the list is long.
Here, more effects of the 'crazy drug' Yaba, and how the rise in the drug's use is affecting Bangladesh.
Read full article here: The inevitable downside felt by Yaba addicts


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The fact that Richard III's remains have, it seems, been discovered, is a cause for good cheer and some splendid jokes on Twitter, largely to do with delayed exits and overdue tickets from multi-storey car parks. So forgive me for injecting a note of scepticism.
I'm not saying it's not good fun, and indeed mildly interesting, that the remains of the last Plantagenet king have apparently been found. (We should note that the bone evidence is clearly circumstantial – a skeleton with curvature of the spine and battle injuries does not a king make, though I can't claim to know enough about DNA evidence to understand what the margin of error is here, particularly before the findings have been published in a peer-reviewed journal rather than just announced in a press conference.)
I'm just suggesting that it's rather a limited avenue of historical research that seems to have much to do with the dread word "impact" – in which academics are supposed to show that their work has "real-world" effects, whatever that might mean, though often interpreted to include public recognition and media coverage. The affair as a whole – notwithstanding the undoubted integrity, skill and commitment of the individuals at work – seems to me to have been managed in a way that is more about fulfilling the dead-eyed needs of the Research Excellence Framework (the highly contentious new scheme for assessing university research) than with pursuing a genuinely intellectual field of enquiry.
According to Neville Morley, professor of ancient history at the University of Bristol, who has written about the Richard III discovery on his blog, this sort of approach is
only a short step from seeing archaeology as a hunt for the personal effects of famous people (and objects are interesting only if some sort of link to a famous person can be invented) to seeing it as an Indiana Jones-style hunt for mystical treasures. Of course it must be so much better to be the Man Who Found Richard III's Lunchbox than to be the Man Who Discovered Interesting Things About Late Medieval Spinal Injuries: heroic, romantic and interesting, rather than actually useful in the cause of developing knowledge and understanding.
As he says, the discovery won't actually change approaches to studying Richard's reign in important ways. Even if we allowed that there has been no circular reasoning (the curvature of the skeleton's spine was adduced as evidence that it was Richard III) it would only go to show that what we thought was true about Richard's appearance was, in fact, the case.
Watching the press conference on TV, I'm afraid (even though it was designed for attendance for people just like me) give me the chills. Yes, it raises awareness of the University of Leicester. Yes, it shows people the work of archaeologists and other experts, and draw interested people in to the discipline (not least potential students). Yes, no doubt it will help the department secure funding (which is surely what all the jamboree was about, in the end). All of that is fine. But it's not really history, not in any meaningful sense.


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in october, i spied the most wonderful set of christmas trees. not out in the woods or at a christmas tree stand; i found them in CostCo. they were perfect. i knew i needed them to make my holiday more fun and brighter. they were three different sizes, starting at six foot then stepping down to five and then, the baby tree was four feet tall. they were in the christmas decoration section along with the halloween items that were scattered about. they were up high on display with life-size oreo-mouthed carolors, a neon santa and his sleigh, and the universal blinking white-light-lit skeleton reindeer. the trees stood tall in their white natural-like hooped branches , their bulbous lights nestled in the branches on each different sized hoop. the white plastic star at the top started the progression of small to large rings of white branches and mesmerizing ping-pong ball lights. then there was the music. it wafted through the store, the joyous sounds of christmas with the robust sounds of electronic music all syncronized with the lights. it was a sight for sore eyes and ears. i wanted them; and i wanted them now.
i hurried through the store looking for my husband. what news i had for him. he loved the blinking skeleton snowman i bought a few years ago, although when he put him up this year i noticed something was different about him. his nose was gone. with some encouragement from me and understanding that our granddaughter wouldn't understand how a snowman could exist if he didn't have his carrot nose, the nose was found in the bottom of a box. i knew he'd love these trees. i found him and dragged him to the display. "aren't they great?" i think i was gushing. he looked up at them and looked down at me. "no." "what? you don't like them? i can't believe you don't like these trees." he looked at the trees once more. "i think they're tacky." "tacky? you think my trees are tacky? i can't believe you don't like them. we could put them out in the backyard so all the neighbors could enjoy them. they play music, for cripes sake. they'd look great out in the backyard" he thought about it for a minute. maybe even half a minute. "nope. don't like them." then he left me. left me standing, staring sadly at my trees that would never actually be my trees.
fast forward to the beginning of december. vacationing in gatlinburg with family and friends. on the way home we stopped at a christmas store and meandered around looking at all the things we didn't need. i was with our granddaughter when i saw terry fiddling around with a contraption the i'm sure chevy chase used on the griswald house. it syncronized all the lights on your home to music. the pulsed, ran, strobed and chased each other. it was huge and green. his smile was one to rival the Cheshire Cat who ate Tweety Bird. i approached him, tilted my head and watched him. "this is what we should get!" he was pushing buttons, lifting lids and inspecting the contraption. "this is just what we need," he said. "are you kidding me?" "no, this would be great. think of what i could do…" "no way. you wouldn't let me get my trees and you are NOT getting that green box and making our house look like the one in that Chevy Chase movie." "but…" "forget it."
i don't usually put my foot down very often. but, this…this…this was just not right.
it was time to start decorating before the weather got too cold. ter does the outside and i do the inside. he was wrangling the lights and snowman while i emptied boxes he'd brought from the attic. he came inside after a few hours. "c'mere. i want to show you something." i went outside and in the back of my jeep were my trees. "are these the right ones?" "my trees!" "i guess they're the right ones."
putting them together wasn't easy and i was sure they were going to end up right back in the box with their remote that had to be retooled by ter for it to work. i think he actually enjoyed all the engineering involved in getting them set up. now, where to put them?
"i thought we were putting them in the backyard?" said me.
"i think they should be in the front," said he.
"but, in the backyard we could see them out the back windows," me said.
"i think they should be in the front," he said.
so, in the front they are. in front of my office window so i can see them as i type and others can see them as they drive or walk by our house. i'm not allowed to play the music unless nobody is home but i do get to see my blinkin' trees blink, wink, pulse, run, strobe…


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Tagged: el boxeo
Mike Tyson vs. Buster Douglas: 20 Years Later
"Iron" Mike Tyson is one of two truly transcendental athletes that I can remember seeing live (Bo Jackson being the other).
My dad, Stewart "The Count" Lovett, was a boxing manager – with his brother, Art, as the trainer – in the 1980's, aka Boxing's Golden Era. Fighters like Roberto "Manos de Piedra" Duran, "Sugar" Ray Leonard, "Marvelous" Marvin Hagler, Thomas "Hit Man" Hearns and Aaron Pryor were exciting, dominating performers that lit up the squared circle with an energy & atmosphere that modern-day boxing (or the MMA) could only dream about.
Of course, at the apex of it all was Mike Tyson. From Kid Dynamite to Iron Mike, the man was a pugilistic poet, creating stanzas with his phenomenal speed and power. My peers and I would gather in my Dad's living room for every Tyson fight, anticipating a demonstrative beatdown, and we usually received exactly that. . .on the night of February 11th, 1990, however – it was not meant to be. . .and from there, the Tyson Dynasty crumbled.
The defeat/knockout by Buster Douglas must be the greatest sports upset of my lifetime, and an excellent story by Richard O'Brien in SI.com appears in full below. O'Brien summarizes the narrative perfectly. Wow.
Douglas' knockout of Tyson still resonates 20 years later
Before considering what happened on Feb. 11, 1990, in Tokyo — that moment summed up so memorably, and yet so inadequately, by Sugar Ray Leonard on HBO as "Unbelievable!" — cast your mind back to Atlantic City less than seven months earlier.
On the night of July 21, 1989, in Convention Hall, 23-year-old undefeated heavyweight champion Mike Tyson defended his title (his unified title, mind you) against Carl "The Truth" Williams. Tyson, who had become the youngest heavyweight champ in history when he KO'd Trevor Berbick in November 1986, was 36-0 (with 32 knockouts) and making his eighth appearance in a title fight. He took all of 93 seconds to dispose of Williams, dropping him hard with a single left hook. Though Williams would complain that the fight was stopped too soon ("It wasn't like I was disbobulated," he told the assembled press afterward), the truth was that The Truth was toast — and that Tyson appeared to be on an unstoppable tear. "The Beatings Go On" was the headline on Pat Putnam's story in Sports Illustrated. And everyone, from the two hair-raising Donalds at ringside (Trump and King), to boxing writers, to the millions of fans who in those days actually cared about boxing, assumed they would continue to do so.
Meanwhile, on the undercard that night, 29-year-old James "Buster" Douglas earned a 10-round decision over Oliver McCall. There had been a time when Buster was viewed as a comer. The year before, on the Tyson-Michael Spinks card, he'd looked sharp in stopping Mike Williams in seven (dropping Williams at one point with a jab), and coming into the McCall fight Douglas was being mentioned as a possible challenger for Tyson. But, in what was something of a pattern for Buster, he seemed to torpedo his own cause; he beat McCall, but was lackluster at best. Commenting on the fight for HBO, Jim Lampley observed, "Douglas is a plodding fighter who has difficulty looking spectacular." (Remember those words.) I know that I sat at ringside and thought, "Well, we won't have to watch Buster Douglas again after this."
Indeed, promoter Don King, who had wrested control over Tyson's career from the fighter's longtime manager, Bill Cayton, quickly moved on from Douglas. Other possible opponents were mentioned — Michael Dokes, Italy's Francesco Damiani — but the real focus was on a showdown with undefeated former cruiserweight champion Evander Holyfield sometime in 1990. That bout, all concerned agreed, would make real money. Who Tyson ground up in the meantime was of little consequence.
Besides, there was just so much wildly entertaining, People magazine-worthy stuff going on in Tyson's life. There were the contract battles between King and Cayton and the marital battles between Tyson and actress-wife Robin Givens (Tyson would file for divorce in October of that year). There was even Tyson's burgeoning academic career. (He had recently been awarded an Honorary Doctorate in Humane Letters from Central State University in Ohio — a fact I mention only so that I can cite his speech at the commencement ceremony, in which Tyson said he wasn't sure what sort of doctor the degree made him but that looking out at "all the fine sisters in the audience," he hoped it was a gynecologist. Clearly, this was a man with issues.) By the time everything was settled and Douglas, by process of elimination (read: willingness to accept less money), was installed as the next opponent, the focus was less on inside the ring than out.
Which, of course, through hindsight, helps explain why Douglas' 10th-round knockout of the 42-1 favorite Tyson in the Tokyo Dome on Feb. 11, 1990, was anything but "unbelievable," no matter what Leonard proclaimed and most observers felt. Indeed, hindsight has helped turn the Tyson-Douglas fight into the urtext of the inevitable upset: Mike was distracted; he wasn't motivated; he was looking past Douglas; he had abandoned his original trainer, Kevin Rooney, and was no longer doing the things that had made him invincible; he was working with an inexperienced corner; Douglas, meanwhile, was fighting over his head, inspired by the death of his mother, Lula Pearl, 23 days before the fight.
Knowing all that, it is almost impossible to watch the fight fresh today. The original feeling at the opening bell — that it was just a matter of time (Ninety-one seconds? Ninety-three?) before Iron Mike finished this guy off — has been replaced by the knowledge that in less than 10 rounds Tyson is going to be crawling around on the canvas groping blindly for his mouthpiece. As a result, Tyson looks somehow reduced from the start, short and comically stumpy. However, if you can look at it with fresh eyes (and, thanks to ESPN Classic and YouTube, you have infinite opportunities), you will see a hell of a fight.
The 6-foot-3½ Douglas, fighting at a for-him-trim 231½ pounds, was anything but plodding. And Tyson, though a touch heavy at 220½ and showing less movement than once did, was still a formidable force. The early rounds feature a lot of action and some real back-and-forth exchanges. Douglas, fighting tall and moving Tyson back with that thudding jab, shows the blueprint for how to beat a fighter who until then everyone assumed was unbeatable. By the fifth round, it was becoming clear that Tyson was taking some real punishment. Yet at the time, almost everyone watching — listen to the announcers — assumed it was still only a matter of time before Tyson turned the tide with some huge punch. The truly amazing thing, looking back now, is that he almost did.
In the eighth round, Tyson, battered and tiring, landed a huge right uppercut that dropped Douglas to the canvas. It was the signature moment of the bout for me, one that defied the accepted wisdom about both men — that the bully Tyson, once backed down, would give up and quit trying to win; and that Douglas, though capable of excellence, would fold when the going got tough. Tyson was never more serious or committed than he was with that uppercut. And Douglas, though clearly rocked, looked more disgusted with himself than discouraged and he beat the count and went right back to work.
Two rounds later, he finished his remarkable job with a devastating combination that put Tyson down and out and prompted Leonard's "Unbelievable!" It may not have been that, but certainly Tyson-Douglas was surprising, revealing and thrilling. It turned boxing on its head and proved to be the dividing line in the career of the sport's most important figure. For all those reasons, it's worth looking back at in every detail. Believe it.
Richard O'Brien, SI.com – Top 10 Boxers of 2000's
|2000s: Top 10 Boxers
Pacquiao-Cotto: 1.25mm PPV Buys
Pacquiao-Cotto tops Mayweather in PPV
By Dan Rafael
Manny Pacquiao's historic 12th-round TKO of Miguel Cotto in Las Vegas on Saturday night did big business.
The Top Rank-promoted fight generated 1.25 million buys and $70 million in domestic pay-per-view revenue, HBO announced Friday. If historical trends hold, the numbers will increase when all of the buys are officially audited.
The 1.25 million buys, the most for a boxing pay-per-view this year, came from 650,000 from cable homes and 600,000 from satellite services.
[+] Enlarge David Becker/Icon SMIManny Pacquiao's 12th-round TKO of Miguel Cotto on Saturday generated 1.25 million buys and $70 million in domestic pay-per-view revenue.
Cotto, who is from Puerto Rico, helped drive the fight at the MGM Grand Garden Arena to an all-time record for buys on the island with 110,000 units sold.
Pacq it up, Pacq it In – Let Manny Begin
Last night, a short drive from Los Angeles up I-15, boxing continued its Renaissance.
The sport, left for dead prior to the Mayweather-De la Hoya hype machine-turned-snoozefest, has revitalized itself in the last two years due to an increased internet presence (fans can see highlights, find fight info, follow the sport in a manner more organized than the fight game itself), the plateauing of MMA, some attractive matchups, and of course – great fighters.
Alarmists labeled De la Hoya "the last great draw," but subsequent bouts (Mayweather-Marquez, Mayweather-Hatton, Pacq-Hatton) have shown that the boxing market robust and its consumers rabid.
The move back into the mainstream continued at the MGM Grand due to a spectacular fight between two classic warriors (with a nod to ).
Cotto, devastatingly focused ("here take a photo/walk in serious like Miguel Cotto" 1:03 mark) walked into the ring fearless, despite being destroyed by a cheating Antonio Margarito 16 months earlier. The stronger of the two fighters – with good speed – Cotto needed to take the fight directly to Manny, and he was acting the part.
Manny walked in the ring in quite a different fashion – with Eye of the Tiger blaring and the well-constructed MGM Garden Arena featuring Pacquiao on its huge mega-screens, the six-time (six different weight classes) title holder smiled, winked and high-gloved his way into the ring, seeming eager & enthused to 'go play.'
As La Diva of the Phillipines sang an absolutely stunning rendition of the Phillipine National Anthem, Lupang Hinirang, it was clear that the electricty was back in Vegas, and it was back in boxing.
Michael Buffer rumbled and the crowed roared, and the two champions went at their business.
The first round had Cotto establishing his size; clearly the bigger, stronger fighter, he went right at Pacquiao. No real action but Cotto won the round, 10-9.
The second round was solid with punches throughout; Pacquiao was clearly the more active fighther, landing stiff blows to Cotto – though with no real damage – and Pacq won, 10-9.
In the third round, a solid knockdown on a quick right to Cotto's temple at the end of a three-punch combo established the momentum as clearly on Pacq's side. Pacquaio 10-9.
Round Four was one of the best fight rounds I've seen in 2009. Both fighters standing and delivering bombs, with Pacq's speed winning the beginning of the round and the end of the round, when Pacq rocked Cotto with a left uppercut, sending him careening to the canvass and ending hopes of a 10-9 round. This would also be the last round in which Cotto hurts Pacquiao, as he did have a strong 'middle minute,' flummoxing Manny with sharp jabs and a couple left hooks. Pacq wins, 10-8.
The Fifth Round was a recovery round for both fighters, as Cotto perhaps exposed Manny's one weakness with a strong uppercut early in the round. That said, Pacquiao is clearly smelling blood in the water, as his attack sensors are beaming, foreshadowing his 'kill radar' utilized at the end of his fights. Pacquiao 10-9.
The Sixth Round was the beginning of the end for Miguel. The first signs of his backpedaling strategy begin, as his left eye is bloodied, and its clear he quite literally can not see where Pacq's punches are coming from. Pacquiao is just too good a fighter. Good round overall, Cotto's heart is keeping him around. Pacquiao, 10-9.
Round Seven showed a faint glimmer of hope for Cotto – or maybe it was just heart – as he valiantly chased Pacquiao "through every foot of the 400-square foot ring" (Jim Lampley), but Manny's quickness is not subsiding at all, and he continues landing every punch from every angle. Cotto's energy level is still very high, but he just can't hit Pacquiao with a strong blow. Pacquiao 10-9.
Round Eightbegins and ends with shots from the HBO PPV cameras of Miguel Cotto's wife & son, unable to watch Cotto getting meticulously picked apart by Pacq. An easy round for Manny, ringsiders Emmanuel Steward & Larry Merchant join with Lampley in calls for Kenny Bayless to begin watching this fight for a moment to stop the carnage. Pacquiao wins, 10-9.
The Ninth Round was yet again furious, though all in Pacq's favor. Cotto (who actually kissed his father/trainer between rounds as if to tell him that he loves him) was more "back, back, back" than Chris Berman calling a homerun derby, bloodied more and more with each crisp, off-angle shot from Pacq. Pacquiao 10-9, though it could have been a standing 10-8.
Round Ten began with Cotto's corner telling Miguel "one more round," and continued with a cacaphony of pleas to stop the fight from the triumvarate of Steward/Merchant/Lampley. I'd love to criticize, but they weren't off the mark. Miguel's amazing stamina & heart were the determining factors in Bayless's decision to allow the fight continue, because Cotto's wife actually left the arena with their son at this point in order to avoid watching the beating. Pacquiao wins, 10-9.
The Eleventh Round was more "Run, Miguel, Run" than anything boxing-oriented, and Pacquiao kept right on going at Cotto, though Miguel's deft ducking and sliding abilities helping him avoid more damage. Pacq actually stopped chasing toward the end of the round, essentially begging Cotto to take the fight to him. Cotto opted not to, smartly. Pacquiao wins this one too, 10-9.
The Twelth and Final Round was simply a showcase for Cotto to prove yet again that he has unrivaled heart and dedication. Though a quick (ironically in the grand scheme, late?) stoppage from Bayless ended the match 55 seconds after the bell is struck, it is clear that Miguel Cotto belonged in the ring with this Legend, but just wasn't as good of a fighter.
Lance Pugmire in today's L.A. Times sums it up:
* Pugmire's take: We're seeing an athlete at his peak, a dominating, charismatic boxer who has speed, power and smarts. That was Pacquiao's plan, and he carried it out brilliantly against a powerful foe, sending Cotto to the hospital. Bring on Mayweather.
YallKiltIt Summary: Boxing is Back, and I eagerly await this $60mm matchup. Floyd is Fast, but Pacquiao is Amazing. Should be a True Classic.
**Also, congratulations to Yuri Foreman, the first Israeli Boxing World Champion, who according to Kevin Baxter of the L.A. Times, "scored a shocking and one-sided decision over Puerto Rican Daniel Santos in a WBA super-welterweight title fight Saturday night on the Miguel Cotto-Manny Pacquiao undercard. "