Sit here. Eat.
Jul. 31st, 2013 08:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaberettWhen I have an idea that I want to communicate - something like tech competence/tech confidence, or the thing I'm currently working on about what I am, for the time being, referring to as integrative identity - there is a very particular way that I think about it, and it is this:
In the back of my mind is a cooker. They're gas hobs, of different ring sizes, and there's a lot of them. Somewhere off to the sides - rather less solid - there's a slab of a chopping board, and there is always the ghost of the scent of parsley.
Each Thing To Write gets its own stewpot, and occasionally I throw another ingredient in, and then I cook until done. (I can't tell you how long it will take, because I cook by listening and by smelling and by gut feel.) Occasionally I ladle some out into a different pot and tweak the seasoning and lumps, because tomato sauce for lasagna can also be the base for shepherd's pie.
If I'm in a hurry, I turn up the heat, or I transfer the whole to the pressure cooker, and I prod at it more frequently and anxiously.
I'll get anxious about serving you anything I consider imperfect if you are a guest. But if I trust you, and I love you, and we have worked together and dirtied our hands together and walked long, hard roads together -- then I will throw together leftovers in the fridge and make you the comfort food of my homeland, and we will be fed.
-- so this is my metaphor for how I approach things I care about getting right. (It's not historically been the case for poetry, butjjhunter is teaching me that with verse, too, it's allowed to sniff and to sample and to frown, and to reach for the salt.) This tells you, I think, an awful lot about how I feel about food, and about feeding people.
I wish I could cook for all of you. I hope that this is enough to keep you going until I can.
In the back of my mind is a cooker. They're gas hobs, of different ring sizes, and there's a lot of them. Somewhere off to the sides - rather less solid - there's a slab of a chopping board, and there is always the ghost of the scent of parsley.
Each Thing To Write gets its own stewpot, and occasionally I throw another ingredient in, and then I cook until done. (I can't tell you how long it will take, because I cook by listening and by smelling and by gut feel.) Occasionally I ladle some out into a different pot and tweak the seasoning and lumps, because tomato sauce for lasagna can also be the base for shepherd's pie.
If I'm in a hurry, I turn up the heat, or I transfer the whole to the pressure cooker, and I prod at it more frequently and anxiously.
I'll get anxious about serving you anything I consider imperfect if you are a guest. But if I trust you, and I love you, and we have worked together and dirtied our hands together and walked long, hard roads together -- then I will throw together leftovers in the fridge and make you the comfort food of my homeland, and we will be fed.
-- so this is my metaphor for how I approach things I care about getting right. (It's not historically been the case for poetry, but
jjhunter is teaching me that with verse, too, it's allowed to sniff and to sample and to frown, and to reach for the salt.) This tells you, I think, an awful lot about how I feel about food, and about feeding people.I wish I could cook for all of you. I hope that this is enough to keep you going until I can.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-01 02:33 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-01 01:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-01 09:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-01 09:31 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-01 11:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-02 07:46 am (UTC)If you and I are ever in the same part of the U.S. (currently Boston), I'd like to extend that one to you. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-02 11:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-08-05 02:45 pm (UTC)(o hai there fellow Boston area person. *waves*)