Check it. I am alive. I have been up to some serious shit, like doing my dishes. I have also experienced a resurgence of love for Joanna Newsom, completed an entire cycle of poems, and baked my ass off. No, dude, not like that. Like making stuff to eat. In an oven. Anyway, I don’t smoke weed because I fear that it will unlock a hidden font of crazy within me and make me into a schizophrenic.
As per my previous promise: the above listing of activities was really an attempt to justify the fact that I didn’t post on this blog thing for almost a month, even though I pledged to post on it daily. Oh, intentions. Remember that radical theatre company I was going to start? How about the neighborhood catering service? Or, to go further back, the extra-curricular organization that was going to save all of the kitties and puppies that didn’t have owners? Or the vigilante squadron of eight year-olds dedicated to stopping the McDonalds Happy Meal Religio-Fascists from offering the race-car toy to boys and that lame-ass fake Barbie to girls? Excuse me, I have to go lie on a blanket under the stars and dream about my upcoming summer project: an avant-garde performance art magnet boarding school for the disadvantaged children of bottomed-out IT specialists! Baby’s gonna change the world, Mama! Baby’s gonna fly!
Now then. It seems like spring might be here for good. I am excited about that, so goodbye to my bra and hello to my blue summerweight quilt. It’s also the best time of year for green garlic, fresh english peas and squash blossoms. Ding-a-ling!
In honor of the season: did you know that you can make honeysuckle ice cream? It’s easy as hell and so good that it will make you believe in G-d.*
All you do is take your basic ice cream recipe (I use a custard base). But BEFORE you make the custard, warm the milk/cream gently, mix it with several cups of honeysuckle blossoms and let it steep in the fridge for ~3 hours. Then, yeah, strain that shit really well. It will taste like flowers, I am not even kidding. Some of us like to top the finished product with unsweetened cocoa powder. Bitter, sweet, aromatic. Fahhk yeah.
*Hello, religious superstition-inspired spelling of the g-word. Hello, psycho-social machinery that just keeps churning churning churning, forcing me to pay semiotic homage to a deity that I’m 99% sure I don’t believe in! Hello, Dr. Klein! Hi there, Dr. Jung! Sigmund, good day sir! Donna Harraway, is that you?
PS: Cameron has procurred a green jeweled pendant, the exact color of his limpid eyes, which he wears dangling from his collar. Stunning. Just, stunning. Oh my secular Jesus I love that cat.
I had meant to post something useful about the relationship between marijuana and schizophrenia, but a very brief moment with google convinced me that everything is so baffling equivocal. My advice: feel free to worry or not as you see fit!
Also, if you know how, you might consider turning off that snap preview service. I don’t have wordpress, so I don’t know how. But as an experiment, try slowly running your mouse over your blogroll. What is that you feel? It’s hatred, yes? Try listening to black metal-it will help.
I might be in DC with free time next weekend. Am unsure.