This is the beginning (of what I'm not quite sure yet) and I'm giggling nervously, which is usually a good sign. I miss writing. I miss writing, and I love food, tea, and teetering stacks of books (not precisely in that order) - so here we are. It's not so much the individual things - the act of eating vs. the act of reading a book - but all of it at once, done over and over again. My husband/photographer/guinea pig (a winning combination!) describes it as 'atmospheric eating', in the most flexible way...how certain books need a good snack, how certain teas pair with specific writers, how certain poets make me want to feast for days.
As a very serious disclaimer - these are in no way strict pairings, as a scone devoured in the morning requires a literary counterpart entirely different from the midnight-snack-scone, and t.s. eliot seems to make me hunger for new things each time.
I was reading about whirling dervishes in Istanbul yesterday, and in the interview one of them had said something profound...which I can't remember. In a nutshell - it frees him, and it makes him feel connected to the world in ways that standing still can't. All of this, the reading, the eating, (the eating my way through books?) echoes that, in a small, small way. And its fun. I've been stockpiling cookbooks like its my job, and am tinkering here and there with recipes - sometimes clumsily, often hungrily, and always with gallons of tea.
That seems like a far too serious beginning. Round two: Feast! Read! Share! If I know you, come over for food - I need more people to feed (how does banana bread sound? hot chai? pancakes with obscene amounts of butter and love!). If I don't know you - hi!
With that, it begins.
No comments:
Post a Comment