Why not?

Honestly, reader, I think about this blog a lot and, when things happen to me during the day, I feel I want to write about it here. My sister asks me what I talk about when I talk to my girlfriends (she thinks I have tons of them; she is hilarious) and I do my best to answer, before turning the question on her and, like the sly high-schooler she is, she says she doesn't know. I talk to my mom for the second time since she left for Korea (she gets back on Tuesday) and she's having a good time, enjoying the weddings and looking forward to coming back and would I please make sure the house is vacuumed and everything. And the very, very few moments (really) when I feel it would be nice to be in a relationship. And no, it's not because Pipshake and Jess/Kate (and the whole rest of campus) flaunt it around. Even though they do. It's because this is one crazy semester. And a lot of things are easier when you have the one specific person that you're supposed to depend on. I hesitate even to write this for fear of undermining the beautiful people that I DO depend on. Please, beautiful people, do not feel that I take you for granted or that this is a cry of feeling neglected. I'm talking about the one, specific fallback person. During this busy semester, with friends running around like ants and being gone for days at a time, having a constant, one constant would be something to depend on. Really, my most favorite people are missing from my life for days at a time. This, of course, is probably mostly my fault... but I hope I distracted you, dear reader, by making you wonder if I'm talking about you. (Am I?)
It's 5 am. I'm holed up in the office. I stole the reading for my first class in four hours, but I don't think I'll be able to do it. I should get a few hours of sleep so I can wake up in time to start the week right. Betsy and I are going to have pomegranate and tea before our first class starts. Yes, Katy. I know the pomegranate is the most romantic fruit you could ever share with a girl. Right? Right?! Absolutely.

"A boy can be two, three or four people but a man is only one. He murders all the rest."

I've been saying that to myself for a month now, since I read it in Canadian Literature. More next time.

A quick shout-out to my biznitches of the magnificent production of Urinetown. And a deep, heartfelt thank you to everybody involved. So very proud of you, and so very thankful. More thoughts, and images, from that later.

It's economics

We're reviewing the exam we took last Friday and I'm catching bits and pieces of what I put down in the explanations the professor has been giving. This is good.
And still, I am bored.
To the far left corner, a bunch of American boys huddle together. They are all wearing black caps and whisper to each other the most.
Well, not the most. The person who whispers the most is also to my left. A guy, a curly blond California-haired-but-he's-really-from-Wisconsin guy, smiling and poking and fawning over the girl next to him. She's married, dude. Calm the stalker down.
The genius engineer guys, and one of their girlfriends, sit two rows ahead of me. They are tall, gaunt, lanky and ask very good questions.
I've the Grand Archives in my head. It'll put my walking to a sway, my tired scowl to a blissful grin. People will not know exactly what is going on, but they will see it in my stride.
This morning, I thought about God. Most mornings during the week, actually, I think about God. Now that I've thought it and written it, I realize I never would have expected to have those moments in the mornings. This is also good.
I really don't mind Economics class. I really don't - I have a huge respect for the professors and students who have these basic principles down.
But I need to get out of here.
Paul, David, I don't know that I have a ride out to Chicago. A lot of people don't and you would think we could band together and get going. I think and thought so too. And maybe something still will turn up.
But I need to get out of here.
Trains are expensive and, anyway, we need to get to Omaha to board. Yesterday the ATM declared my account in the negative. Yesterday was Sunday, so I'm still good if I get to the bank and deposit some cash today. I don't know that I'll have time. Reader, please read the pained enthusiasm I have for the opportunity to ride a train but, maybe I'm growing up, it's just not feasible. It would work out. Omaha to Chicago and then Grand Rapids, to Chicago, to Omaha for $200, but I don't have $200.
For today, for the next few hours anyway, I'll be on the lookout for encouragement. Maybe it will happen in Canadian Lit. (my next class). It's happened before.

Today, I met a skinny dog with a ratty tail. Tomorrow, I hope to meet his owners and exchange pleasantries or use my bike chain as a whip. I prefer the latter - we could really use a mascot and she's a sweet, sweet dog.

Is Cinnamon a better name for a dog than Ginger?

Today, I spent a little more than two hours emailing club leaders for clarification and it was actually very fun. When we ended our meeting last weekend, we were on a productivity high. I hope that stays and that it bleeds onto the leaders. Tomorrow, I hope to receive some responses.

Today, I still have Economics homework to do - reading and questions. The questions take a large amount of time and effort, like working through a tricky set of math problems. Some people enjoy the sense of accomplishment, the fact that they are "doing it correctly" and, so, it all wraps up neatly, as it should. I will never understand those people. Just kidding, I love you weirdos. Tomorrow, I will hand it in and get more of a high from completion in a class that I'm becoming gradually more interested in. I don't understand how so many huge companies can tank, how we can "bail them out" with obscene amounts of money that we don't even have... and, except for fleeting conversations, not be affected by it all.

I don't understand how anybody, even in their anger and their shame, can leave or give up or abandon. This could, and does, mean a lot of things... but it all comes back to stories I want to (re)read and stories I want to humiliate myself with by trying to write.

The cilantro-lime chicken salad at Lao Unity Church; watching auditions on large screen and yelling back and forth with co-casting directors; deliberate and brief embraces upon the slaughter of the day; the bittersweet glimpse of a friend and hesitating to continue on to different places and different activities.

EDIT
The Econ assignment is 10 essay/explanation questions and thirty-two (32) (a shit load) of reading. I was recently a fresh-faced, ambitious young punk. You have, before you, a broken little boy. I am leaving! I am leaving!

10 43 AM - Meet with Pip and Todd Montsma about potential Signet design ideas. Wonder, again, how Pip and I both managed to take on another task for the year. Leaf through and discuss design magazines and portfolios. Get excited.

11 24 AM - Back at the apartment. Shower, brush, deodorant, q-tip. Read and return emails. Sit and calm down for a few minutes, focusing on the day. Make lunch and eat silently, focusing on the day. Use a bell pepper that is losing its crunch, but not its flavor.

1 07 PM - See Jake, Dee, Joel P. and, again, Pip at the Grille area. Sit and congregate calmly, which is nice. Laugh, with Dee, at how cute Jake and Piper are. Todd stops by to hand us two design magazines that he wanted to show us earlier. Decide which one is cooler and which one, though more sleek, is less exciting. Piper takes the cooler one. Curse the power of girls and their puppy dog eyes. Sit with Dee for a few minutes.

1 33 PM - Lumber up the stairs in the campus center to the President's office. Inform the nice receptionist lady that I have a meeting with Provost Hoekstra. Feel important. She allows me in and I pull out my camera. Make small talk with Provost Hoekstra. Feel important. Snap action/mid-work photos of Provost for Diamond. Work to find interesting angles. Overhear a phone conversation where Provost makes fun of my going barefoot for the day. Plot revenge on Provost.

2 13 PM - Read more, respond to emails. Say to self, "Caffeine would be nice." Notice cute girl looking at me like I am an insane boy.

2 16 PM - Sit with Paul, Mark, Jessica and Becca at Grille. Try out Paul's stalker lens and feel like a creep. Notice discoloration on someone's neck and almost lose it. Write down someone's social security number.

2 21 PM - The Bean is open and Carmela is brewing a pot of coffee. Locate mug, sit down and pull one of seven magazines out of bag (PASTE). Continue with the visual design, composition thoughts - read about violence and Stanley Kubrick's A CLOCKWORK ORANGE.

2 23 PM - Curse self for not including Stanley Kubrick's A CLOCKWORK ORANGE in this semester's Faith and Film roster.

2 24 PM - Curse self for not making any progress for this semester's Faith and Film roster card.

2 26 PM - Emily Stam gets all up in my business (a good thing) and talks about the kids she TAs. Listen and advise her to get them in trouble. Realize that I should never be a teacher, but that it would be really fun.

2 42 PM - Walk to Mac Lab in the most beautiful weather imaginable. Linger out, in the sun, before having to enter the cold, sterile Mac Lab.

2 45 PM - Curse self for having forgotten the card reader for digital camera and not being able to unload photos from full card. Write up quick blog entry explaining how to upload photos on Photo III class blog.

2 52 PM - Back to Bean, more people; Voss, Scott, Jenny, Piper (yes, again). Ask Voss, "If I get fries from the Grille, will you have some?" Laugh at his enthusiastic response.

2 54 PM - Yell at Evan to audition for film. Start indoor hackey-sack with Scott.

3 11 PM - Begin outdoor hackey-sack with Scott, Dee and (surprise!) Nathan Smith. Almost face-plant on pavement.

3 16 PM - Social Work major extraordinaires Renae and Lisa pull up and we head to have conversations with elderly people in nursing home. Car ride with Iron & Wine.

3 32 PM - Listen to a sweet, old lady say some startling things. Wonder about potential photo assignment. Wonder what it's like to live in a nursing home.

4 54 PM - Back to campus, head to Philippines over Christmas Break meeting for video production. See everyone from previous video classes (reunion!) and some underclassmen. Get excited for traveling to capture video footage and eat. Yes, Piper is there.

5 28 PM - Run, with Pip, to Justice Matters potluck. Pip informs me that she sees me more than Jake does. Feel grateful that Jake is a gentle soul and not a violent one. Feel envious of Jake's gentle soul and of Piper's fiance. Meet people, lots of people I don't see enough. Feel vindictive and, later, petty for not going over to say hi to friend. Attempt to defend own asshole behavior by citing business and not wanting to interrupt conversation. Feel like a complete jackass. Meet Jess. Piper and I realize we don't have our scripts with us.

5 29 PM - Pip and I ride the most daring bike ride of our lives to retrieve our scripts and a fork.

5 31 PM - Roll back in, eat and fellowship and congregate and man, these are good beans.

6 05 PM - Move on to conference room with video team. Read through scripts. Laugh and cry at how depressing the film ends. Prep. for auditions tomorrow. Begin to feel wear on mind.

7 16 PM - Take break from script editing. More caffeine.

7 31 PM - Sit at balcony with Jeremy at Mike Haley talk in Beej. Struggle to stay awake/attentive.

7 51 PM - Move to lower level, with camera and snap photos for Diamond. Get to sitting right up front center, with Linsay V., several rows ahead of everyone else.

8 46 PM - Shake speaker's hand. Thank him for coming. Ask if I can take some close-up photos. He asks if he has to look at the camera. Resist the initial impulse to say, "Hell no!" See, up close, how ragged and tired he is.

9 03 PM - See Piper, for the seventeenth time, on the way back to the Campus Center.
Goodnight Piper and Jake! Big hug and manly handshake. Student Symposium with Robert Taylor about club funding distribution.

9 24 PM - Ask, midway through working out the numbers, what Dordt clubs are, officially, supposed to exist for.

Midnight - Having have divided up clubs into categories (secret categories) leave meeting feeling good and productive and ambitious about Student Symposium with Jess and Dave, though we have not finished the task.

12 07 AM - See Mark Bylenga in Bean. Ask to speak with him sometime about Comedy League (for business purposes). Feel important. Wonder how Mark's day went. Wave to Robin in the corner. Slap roommate extraordinaire Matty's hand. Wonder how his day went.

12 29 AM - Work through another load of emails. Answer questions Kyla is asking for Diamond article about feature film.

1 16 AM - Read boggling Econ. assignment about probability and likelihood.

1 54 AM - Reply to email and do best not to be a lecturing prick to someone who happens to be younger than I, but is likely much smarter than I. And stronger.

2 01 AM - Door to lab locks and scares the shit out of my ears.

2 03 AM - Write up and print out audition sheets for actors to fill out.

2 09 AM - Realize that I'm majoring in Writing and decide to log on blog. Say "log on blog" out loud and cackle like a psychopath. Begin to lose feeling in left leg.

To: His highness, King Mohammed VI, of Morocco.
Re: The blogger in Morocco who will be in jail for two years for raising thoughts and questions on the King's policies.
Message: "[Your] charitable habits [are] encouraging a culture of dependency."

the story

-

In high school, the indications were chronic nosebleeds and an eye twitch. The left one. And when you're young enough, which is most of us, you feel angry at your body for losing, for tapping out from - damn! - high school and a job at Subway. What in the world? We should take care of ourselves, of our bodies. I know that, but I know I'm not the only angry one.
She plays soccer, and basketball. Strong. Worn leather. And a big heart of laughter and honesty. But she's falling apart physically. She has been for years now, but she still makes the team and the rigorous daily practices and I picture it like she's running towards the enemy side, screaming at the top of her lungs, and stones, spears, bullets flying at her, tearing her apart, but she trounces along. She always makes it through and destroys them, the bastards. And though I know her by her laughter, I can't imagine how angry she gets.
I noticed just a minute ago that a small tendon in my right elbow tightens at moments like these. Half past one in the morning, the looming, ominous hum of an empty computer lab, the cold, sterile feel that you only get now, deep inside in your lungs and, as Frost wrote, miles to go before I sleep.
I'd like to tell my tightening elbow, my ever bouncing legs and every person I haven't been a friend to today that I have protest. What a big day! There has never been a day as enormous as this one! The only day that comes close to this day, the only possible runner-up, as been yesterday. It was Tuesday! How can this be? I remember waking up just a few minutes ago, rubbing my eyes and cracking my back, thinking of Advanced Expository Writing. The essays that were crafted and beginning to remember what I remember of them. And now it is sixteen hours later, in an instant.
They've hinted that, as an adult, your friends become some people you used to know and you work with your friends. The people in your world are married to you, have sprung from your loins, have paid your way into maturity or work in the cubicle next to you. And while I vow to never have such a job, such an existence (not that I could get/hold one anyway) I fear my tightened fingers slipping away from yours, you who are not in my classes
or sleeping in the bunk above mine
or rotating the supper duties from day to day
or have class, conveniently, next to mine so it is inevitable that I see you.
And I miss you because we were, at one undefined time and place in our lives, such great friends. We were pals. And I remember being so thrilled when I could see that you, you too, were excited to see me!
It doesn't always move as consciously as this, but it often moves as naturally as this or perhaps even more so. My legs will bounce and my eyes will ache tomorrow. Blood will spill away and be gone from me, but the God has been gracious enough to provide more. And if he takes it away on the next day, then he takes it away on the next day. Thank you. Thank you, for the exhaustion in the meantime. But God, while I'm here, help me to cause my elbow to tighten for the goodness, and benefit, of friends with large hearts of laughter,
for those in my ever closing and shifting world,
and specially for those, for you, the somebody I used to know.

-That's Mitch Hedberg up there in triumph. OK, for those of you who don't know him you should, because I just spent fourteen minutes reading his quotes online and giggling.

-I'm partially giggling because I've been dizzy all day and, also, I'm tired. But mostly because of Mitch.

-Tomorrow... today, I learn to bake. That will definitely add to my eligibility points and my mum will be one small step closer towards grandkids. She is dreaming. Sorry ladies.

-Been watching a lot of films lately, which is a joy of irresponsible magnitude, but I've found that it is VERY difficult to craft an ending to a film. The third and final act and all that.

-Junebug. Amazing, amazing performances.

-The Royal Tenenbaums. I sing along and laugh/cry the whole time through.

-What's Eating Gilbert Grape. Such good writing.

-I lost my lens cap. Frick. And it wasn't at the info. desk lost and found, but the girl was helpful and not annoyed at all, though I imagine it was nearing the end of her shift. Also, she knew my name and I'm pretty sure we didn't shake hands, but I was rubbing my eyes earlier and my hand smelled like girl. OK, that sounds like a creepy thing to notice and blog about, but it's so completely true and Oh Man What a Distraction to my Evening Reads. Friggin' hand with girl smell on it.

-There's a lot of lady mentioning in this post...

-A bunch of athletic-looking kids had a grill party behind Covenant earlier. They drove their truck up the curb and wore cowboy hats and looked like they had a good time.

-Does anyone have a swivel chair they want to get rid of? And/or a soft bench?

-OK OK. This is a good one though. There was one part of my dream last night where my dream girlfriend, well the first one (there were TWO OF THEM! No, they were not anybody that I know in awake world. I swear.) anyway, dream girlfriend number one and I are being chased by some huge, thick-necked, unitard-sporting character... maybe her crazy old brother... but dream girlfriend number one was already like twenty-seven (this, we discussed earlier on and it was a super witty and flirty conversation... yeah, I'm pretty good at that when I'm asleep). Anyway, he's chasing us and all of a sudden, I man up and hold my ground and let him break through me all Hulk-style while dream girlfriend number one gets away. Basically, I took a charge from freaking Alan Kloosterhoff (Happy Birthday, buddy!) I remember this actually hurting me, but - this is the coolest part - like a video game, I was a awarded +5 CHIVALRY POINTS. There I lay, broken and bloody on the floor with a footprint on my face and in colorful, bold text above me shines +5 CHIVALRY POINTS! No, you don't get it. Completely worth it. Supposedly, that defeats Unitard Man because that's all I remember of him and... well, how cool is that? So, you know, expect me to award myself Chivalry Points... ladies.

-Oh hey, Lise. Helping you down the ledge after the tree house earlier today? CHIVALRY POINTS!

-Some of the reading tonight was from the Freakonomics book about incentives and crunching the numbers to basically catch cheating teachers and sumo wrestlers and office workers. It was actually very gloomy and depressing; being able to depend on society to give in to their greed and to corrupt is one of the worst things to dwell on. BUT! Paul Feldman, Socrates and Adam Smith argue that 87% of the time, society resists evil.

-Dream girlfriend number two was more my age, and she was awesome... why did I get two awesome dream girlfriends last night? It's such a stark and insulting contrast to my awake situation. Which is zero. Strange... because dream girlfriend number one and I didn't have any falling out.

-It's fun to see how many places on campus you can screen films on. How many projector-equipped rooms you can access.

-Matty says I have it bad for Norah Jones. What Matty says is right. Correctamundo.

-It should be stated here, in writing, that I feel like a total Unitard for not knowing the info. desk girl's name. Not because she distracted me with girl smell, and it's not like I even think I'm supposed to know who she is... like we've spoken before, but well come on, she was really helpful and courteous. After watching a film like What's Eating Gilbert Grape, it was really nice to speak with someone so composed and genuinely willing to help.

-Dear high school Alvin... remember when someone jokingly called those girls lesbians and they got ultra-pissed? Dude, you can call girls lesbians in college and they'll giggle and agree and brag about it. It's... its'... I don't even know how to describe it. Enjoy the prom, ya nerd.

I am writing this on a computer in the newly built Sioux Center Public Library (hold for applause). I remember spending a few evenings freshman year calling Sioux Centerites and asking for library funds. The most I had managed to squander, from one person, was a hundred dollars. That's a lot of money and God bless them for helping out the library like that, but I can't imagine how much it cost to put this building up. It's a very open space with a fireplace and semi-vaulted ceilings... it's no Pella library, but it's an impressive space. Brick columns and squared carpet... surprisingly sparse shelving, but plenty of shelving nonetheless. Oh, and there are computers labeled, "Sioux Center Public Library CARD CATALOG ONLY," that you can go on and check your email and blog on. Looking back on the libraries of my life - elementary school, Calvin library, the one in Cascade and Hulst Library at Dordt - evokes a sense of stillness and, maybe even, solemnity. Not a hissy librarian looking down her nose at you, saying, "Quiet child! People are trying to read!" But more of a 15th century French library where robes and staffs and penises are required to enter. Most of you know my enthusiasm for robes, staffs and having a penis, but what I'm trying to say is that (and part of this can likely be blamed for the outdoor construction) there's an awful lot of noise traveling throughout the space. Click at the circulation desk, hammering outside, woman shuffling through the Kingsbury four shelves over... and, of course, the cell phone rings. The lady rifles through her purse to find it and speaks to her child? Instead of the quiet din of undisturbed silence, there's the looming growl of computers and copy machines humming to establish their existence and dominion.
But at least there are people here, where the books are.

Oh, and classes at Dordt start in two days. It's interesting to see all the happy freshmen, euphoric from starting their first of four years of sleep overs. Live it up, ya rascals.

They pulled up to the curb in a dusty Plymouth with the windows rolled down. The mother driving was framed by the cracks in the windshield, which were placed in such a precise and, seemingly, deliberate way. Her face sat perfectly in the center, in the bull's eye, of the target. Was it from a rock? A baseball bat? And, for that matter, were the children - wide-eyed and nappy-haired in the backseat - present at the time of the aggression? It was a warm evening towards the end of summer and the store had its air humming all day long. But they merely sat in the car - mother, father and daughters - for a few minutes, occasionally speaking, and smirking, at one another before pulling away. They had stopped for no apparent reason and they were now headed back from where they came, bounding over the heavy blacktop and causing the heat to stir.

-

The current rate of daily activities is some sort of outrageous. The semester hasn't even started and, physically, I'm feeling it. Jess has been eye-twitching, from nervosity, for the better part of a week. I predicted, for the upcoming year, that my social habits will be very waning in comparison to previous semesters. It's a good thing I'm not engaged, innit? And all the ladies say, "YEAH!" Oh, you crazy ladies.

The darkroom will require some assembly. As will the stereo. And all the other boxes (mostly mine) sitting unpacked in the apartment. It's good to see people milling around campus again - even if the campus is torn up with recently-initiated construction and nobody really knows how to mill about anymore. Liz Brand was the first person, that I know as a friend, that I saw back on campus from having spent the summer away from Sioux Center. Hooray for Liz Brand! You go, Liz Brand!

I found myself surprisingly angry today. For no specific reason... which I took to be a bad sign of... something. There were a handful of things that went against plan or preference, but nothing that should have risked an asshole's behavior to the parents (didn't happen) or a sudden screaming, to myself, in the car (which did happen and it was odd and oddly satisfying... and a bit unnerving).

Travel was, and is, a blessing. It's good to be reminded, again, of how lovely and funny some people are - to see that they come from similar family members and places.
But you're all coming back now (except for some and you will be missed), so let's start the semester of me-not-seeing-you-very-much and get it over with. Not that second semester will be any better... gosh, this is getting to be a bummer.

Rob says you love, love, love
then you die.
I've watched him while sleeping and seen him crying
with closed eyes.
And you're not happy, but you're funny.
And I'm tripping over my joy.
But I just keep on getting up again.

We could be daytime drunks if we wanted-
we'd never get anything done that way, baby.
And we'd still be ruled by our dueling perspectives,
and I'm not my perspective
or the lies I'll tell you every time.

-A bit of one of the most beautiful songs I know.
The Absence of God by Rilo Kiley. It is lonely and lovely and, as it goes on, it lifts the veil of depression. I promise.

Until I see you on campus.

There's a cricket hiding somewhere in the downstairs bathroom. He's small and he frightens easily, but only for a little bit at a time. I can only assume he is small, in comparison to, say, a triceratops, because I haven't seen him ever... though this is the fourth night that I've tried looking. Also, he is loud. That little fucker knows how to play. Chances are that he has settled inside of some forgotten horn and the acoustics are only helping him. Still, very impressive.

A list of things that (momentarily) frighten little Chang:

turning the light on
turning the light off
rolling out of bed
loud groans
checking the time on a cell phone
flipping the pillow over
vampires


Today brought more accomplishments, more mental listing and anxieties. A fun surprise is that the Greyhound station lady misunderstood me when I said that I'd like to arrive in Minneapolis on Thursday. She scheduled the ticket for Wednesday and I noticed it, for the first time, early this morning. The summer time. Hooray!

Have we ever the time or the self-discipline to take care of everything we promised? For that matter, is it acceptable to promise little? To promise less? Is it the wiser lifestyle to focus our ambitions to a handful of goals? Can one be happy with eighteen credits plus additional carry-on baggage? "It's too dangerous! It's too easy to be consumed!"

Some of us are more prone to addiction. Sometimes we view the people in our lives as distractions. Some things are actually worth doing alone. Isn't it weird that too much sleep is bad for you? Sometimes, you might need to stay in bed for a long time. Otherwise, jump out and put on your glasses.

Thanks for stories and encouragement, time alone, going to Michigan so I can take the stereo, selling spicy carrots, enthusiasm for the Olympics and showing me things that I would appreciate.

Thinking in italics

This morning, Matt kicked me awake and I sat fighting my eyelids while he ate a bowl of cereal. Then we went to work, loaded into the back of a large pickup truck, and journeyed carefully to Sioux Falls to set up for market. We left Sioux Center at 4 40 AM.

None of you believe me. Matt doesn't either, I'm sure. But I swear we did. Market ran until one in the afternoon when late lunch shoppers dwindled down and the heat became just too harsh for the tomatoes and cucumbers.

Imagine how it went - I'm not going to write anymore tonight. There's an article on the Dalai Lama tonight and greeting in the morning. Thanks for poems on postcards, sporadic and lengthy voicemails, the people who took home twenty pounds of tomatoes and Elliott Smith.

My lightning bolts a glowin', I can't see where I am goin'

It's 9 42 pm on a dreadful, muggy Sunday evening in Sioux Center. The thermometer reads a little past 85 F and if you stick your head out the window, your glasses fog halfway up the lens. Yikes. We haven't spent a night with the air conditioner on - the neighbors do. My bedroom window opens right up to their machine roaring all night. Tonight, ours might be on too. I took a short nap out on the deck and when I came inside to use the bathroom, I saw that sweat had soaked through the pits of my shirt. My mind is caffeinated and spinning. The problem is that, today, I sporadically read about gardening and food, looked through some professional photography portfolios (online), began a bread, really wanted to watch a movie(s), and contemplated the building of a darkroom. I sat down with my notebook to try and outline a film and send off the notes to Piper for her consideration. I'm sure if I watched a film, I could get in that mind. Capote and caffeine should be more than enough stimulation. Black coffee is comforting. Yesterday we had pasta with tomatoes, leeks, chives and basil from the garden. Today we had pasta with a store-bought jar of sauce. One of them tasted like cafeteria. (Also today, BLTs with Golden Boy tomatoes, New Zealand spinach, leeks. Always add leeks.) It's important to have a workspace. I finally transplanted the pallet of hollyhocks that we got from garden weeeeeeeeeeks ago. They were still green, still reaching out but unable to grow any taller. Now they are. Sorry it took so long guys. That's the pretty cool thing about plants (and a dog, for that matter). For the most part, they don't hold grudges or run out of patience so long as they have what they need. They're hoping, with every day, to be put in the earth, always come running when you open the door. Also, it's completely marvelous that a thin plant about eighteen inches tall can develop a bulbous bell pepper the size of a snow globe ALL from the rain, the earth and the sun. And, at its zenith, it is snapped off and consumed by consumers. The plant can no longer nourish and develop its fruit - it just goes on developing more, without tears, until the seasons send it back down to the earth to nourish other plants. Some fucker, with some foreign change, has my DVD of Thank You For Smoking. Which is the angry way of saying I can't find it. In other news, the heathens at Hy-Vee were selling Broken Flowers for two dollars fifty. Philistines. Americans. I asked my mom if the Shims (Midwest chapter) could go to Italy once I graduate. You know, once our lives are over because we're all grown up and stuff. She laughed.
"What would we do in Italy?"
"You know, eat and stuff."

So, in short, today has been about food and a little about photography. After this film, maybe that will change. I think we're watching Capote, Punch Drunk Love or Art School Confidential.

An excess of tomatoes and who says carrots have to be orange?

The tomatoes are coming in. I suppose they actually arrived last week (or maybe even the week before) but today I stood surrounded by buckets of red, orange, yellow, green and splattered heirlooms (the best ones!) and my jaw dropped.
"Henry! This is a lot of tomatoes."
Henry is Harriet's hubby, her words, and he comes in on Thursdays to help with CSAs. He is a large man, shouting greetings upon seeing you and laughing often. He stood up, smiled and shook his head. We have many, many tomato plants on the farm and, still, it's pretty amazing how much food they can produce. Duh, stupid-frick Alvin. There will be more tomatoes. Oh yes, says Henry, there will be tomatoes.
So I picked, washed, packed beets, among other normal Thursday things to do on the farm (ask Matty K. if you don't know) and wiped, inspected, packaged the tomatoes. I did so standing next to the trailer that had every space filled with garlic, the gigantic, ever-whirling industrial fan setting them to dry and cure. Yep. Garlic, wiping down lovely tomatoes, Alyssa pulling leeks from the cooler every now and then, Matty washing and wrapping up basil, Harriet pulling in with green peppers, white peppers, PURPLE peppers. EGGPLANTS! I thought of a hundred cheesy love songs to sing to the symphony of flavors and aromas, dancing about there on the garden. Me, the deeply-tanned Asian, wearing a hairnet over his unbridled mane, cheerily wiping down a Cherokee Chocolate - the best name for a tomato variety ever - and (softly, but passionately) singing Barry Manilow.

No jolts, no surprises
No crisis arises - the years go along as they should
It's all very nice, but not very good...

Annnnd I'm ready to take a chance again,
ready to put my love on the line with you
Been living with nothing to show for it,
you get what you get when you go for it,
and I'm ready to take a chance again with you.

Yes, when you are moved to simultaneously take pictures and cook, it is a good thing. I've read that they go bonkers in Italy when the first tomato harvest comes in. They gather and celebrate and speak loudly with lavish hand motions and drink wine and play music and hug and laugh and cook! I need you to help me!

Or anyway, I hope you are well.
Eat a good tomato in the simplest way you can, wherever you are.
And here I'll be, slices of red, orange, yellow, green, pink, black and swirly colored
with basil, olive oil, salt and vinegar.

If we get spinach after the weekend, BLTs. (Sioux Centerites, let's pack 'em up and go fishing!)

Love!