Quills and Frills-12/6/2014 Black Science

Aleathia says:

As you may know I have recently gotten back into the comic scene.  It was something I enjoyed as a kid and then again in my 20's.  I didn't read the usual fare, but enjoyed things like Night Breed and Wild Palms.  If it was dark and maybe on the fringe, I enjoyed it.  The 90's was a bit of a fade out for comics and then it was uncool to be a nerd for the longest time, but god damn if I'm not totally excited that the nerd nation has risen again!!

The problem I am having is there are so many damn awesome comics out right now that I can't catch up or keep up.  I am reading one now called Black Science.  It was created by Rick Remender with art by Matteo Scalera.  I am telling you.  I have no idea what the hell is going on in my brain when I read this.  There is science fiction and real science....dudes speaking in alien languages, German and English.  There is a breech in the time space continuum.  There is blood and guts and jaded love.

You can find this gem of a series on Image Comics.  Yes, I am an Image Comics whore at this point. They are producing some spectacular work.  I have loads more to read in the Black Science series as well as a ton of titles that my better half has squirreled away in the office.  More to come!

Art Bomb-12/5/2014 George Grosz

Aleathia says:

On my most recent travel excursion to Rochester, I had the opportunity to visit the Memorial Art Gallery in the East End neighborhood.  It was a nice little gallery and in the coming weeks I will be featuring some of the artists that I saw while I was there.  There were 18-20 artists that I had never seen before so investigating their work is a pleasure.  I love finding new art!

George Grosz is a German born painter (1893-1959) who is known for his caricatures of Berlin in the 1920's.  He was a prominent member of the Berlin Dada movement as well as New Objectivity before he emigrated to the United States in 1933.

Grosz was bitterly opposed to the Nazi movement in his country and left Germany before Hitler came to power.  In 1933 he was invited to teach the summer at the Art Students League of New York. After that summer he returned to Germany for his family and then emigrated.  He taught at the League permanently until 1955.

In 1959, Grosz decided he wanted to visit his homeland and returned to Germany.  While in Berlin he fell down the stairs after a night of drinking and died.

His original influences were expressionism and futurism as well as graffiti.  He drew Berlin city scenes until he emigrated and left those themes behind.  He eventually turned to landscapes and conventional nude painting.

Foodies-12/4/2014 White Chocolate-Cashew Coffee Biscotti

Aleathia says:

One of the great things about the holidays is that it gives you the opportunity to try out different kinds of cookies (my favorite!!!) and share them with others.  Holiday brings cookie swaps at work or with family and it is nice to bring something different than the normal favorites.

Today I am going to share a recipe for White Chocolate-Cashew Coffee Biscotti.  These dunkable wonders are also great to make as gifts as they keep pretty good when you pack them up as they are harder and dryer than most cookies which make them perfect for coffee or hot chocolate.  Let's get to it!

White Chocolate-Cashew Coffee Biscotti

1/2 cp granulated sugar
1/2 cp packed brown sugar
2 T butter, softened
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 large egg white
2 1/2 cp all purpose flour
1/4 cp instant coffee granules
3 T unsweetened cocoa
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp salt
1/8 tsp ground nutmeg
3/4 cp dry roasted cashews, coarsely chopped

cooking spray

1 T granulated sugar
3 ounces premium white chocolate, chopped

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Place first 6 ingredients in a large bowl, and beat with a mixer at medium speed until well blended.

Lightly spoon flour into dry measuring cups, level with a knife.  Combine flour, instant coffee, cocoa, baking soda, cinnamon, salt and nutmeg.  Gradually add to sugar mixture, beating until well blended. Stir in the cashews.  Turn dough out onto a lightly floured surface, knead lightly 7 times.  Divide dough in half.  Shape each portion into a 12 inch long roll.  Place rolls on a baking sheet coated with cooking spray and pat to 3/4 inch thickness.  Sprinkle with granulated sugar.

Bake at 350 degrees for 22 minutes.  Remove rolls from baking sheet, cool 10 minutes on a wire rack.  Cut each roll diagonally into 21 (1/2 inch) slices.  Carefully stand slices upright on a baking sheet.  Reduce temperature to 325 degrees and bake 20 minutes.  Remove from baking sheet and cool completely.

Place chocolate in a small heavy duty zip lock bag.  Microwave on high for 1 minute or until chocolate is soft.  Knead bag until smooth.  Snip a tiny hole in the corner of the bag and drizzle chocolate over the biscotti.  Makes about 3 1/2 dozen.

Lit Bits-12/3/2014 Grace Schulman

Aleathia says:

Grace Schulman is an American poet and academic born in New York City in 1935.  She studied at Bard College and graduated from American University in 1955.  She received her Phd in 1971 from New York University.

Her work has been published in highly regarded journals such as The Paris Review, The New Yorker, and Atlantic Monthly.  She was previously the Poetry Editor of the Nation from 1972-2006.  She was also the director of the Poetry Center 92nd Street Y from 1973-1985.

She has published seven collections of poetry with the most recent one out in 2013 called "Without a Claim: Poems".


The Button Box

A sea animal stalked its prey
slithering under her bed, and gorged
on buttons torn from castaways;
ever unsated, it grew large

until it became a deity
spewing out buttons in a fire
of brass for blazers, delft or ruby
for shirts--and dangerous.  You'd hear

it snarl when the beds were being made.
It ate stray pins and shot out poison.
But mother, who stuffed its wooden frame,
scooped up waterfalls of suns,

enamel moons, clocks, cameos,
carved pinwheels, stars, tiny "Giottos,"
peacocks strutting out at sundown,
FDR's profile, flags of Britain,

steel helmets, each with a mission.
Mother sewed ballerinas set
in circles on your satin dress,
onyx buttons that would join

you, collar-to-hood, at graduation;
she would find in the creature's lair
"bones" of an army officer,
"pearls" of a war bride's dressing gown;

nights when the radio hissed dive bombers
my mother dreamed that she could right
the world again by making sure
you had your buttons, sewed on tight.

Music Monday-12/01/14 Neil Young

John Says:

A month or so ago I started really listening to Neil Young. I was never real Neil fan. That’s not to say I don’t like Neil. I’ve had After the Goldrush and Harvest in my music collection for years. I never really advanced further than those albums. I have no explanation for this other than Neil Young kind of slipped off the radar for me when I was younger and finding those guys like Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen. There was enough of a back catalog between those two and, of course, limited financial resources to purchase, thus shoving good ol’ Neil in the backseat of one of his classic Cadillacs.

This fall as the leaves fell and every jackass in Brooklyn reached for their spiced lattes and scarves, I reached for my singer-songwriters. I went the rounds with Dylan for a bit. Then some early Bruce, and even took long walks with Ryan Adams and his great new album. One morning I threw on After the Goldrush by Neil Young, and something between he and I clicked. I spent a good week toggling between that album and Harvest. Then I went CD shopping.

One of the great things about you sheep becoming completely consumed by the trappings of the digital world is that guys like me, left back here in the dust, get to reap all of the benefits. While real music stores in NYC seem to be converting their standard stock to specialty CDs and vinyl, most places have been adding used sections. Those sections have been growing at enormous rates with people selling off their stuff and continuing to rely more on hard drive storage or corporate clouds to keep their vast and varied musical collections (oh Christ how I pray for a solar flare). These used sections have become filled with all of the classical rock albums that I had always been unable to purchase at the full-rate.

I figure since this is the Christmas Season and this is America, you all would appreciate hearing how much something cost over its aesthetic value. What the increase in used music stores/sections means for me now is that when I get on a music jag a basic trip to the music store can feel like Christmas morning. Lately I’ve been able to go out and find a number of Neil Young albums at prices hovering between $2-$8 depending on the album.

On the Beach and Tonight’s the Night have become quick new favorites of mine. I love On the Beach’s slick viperish take on the California rock scene and maybe the mid-70s in general. Its one of those 3 a.m. albums. Tonight’s the Night with its ragged, tuneless, junky ode has become a must-listen during those five mile morning walks to the job. Most of the other albums I found on the cheap are: Freedom, Silver and Gold, Prairie Wind, Chrome Dreams II, Fork in the Road, Le Noise, Comes a Time, Ragged Glory, Harvest Moon, and Are You Passionate?

It’s been a mixed bag of classic Neil and later, questionable Neil, something a novice listener, such as myself, has already picked up on.  But Neil Young has been a great addition to some of those records that keep a guy together on lonely, long walks when he’s already got too much on his mind. The voice in those lyrics are able to reach out to me in ways that, as a forty year-old man, I didn’t think possible with music any more. I’m glad that I didn’t find Neil Young back when I was eighteen or twenty, and really struggling to make sense of things…as if I got it all under control now, right? As you age it becomes harder and harder to find those things that really impress themselves upon you. Jobs are dull. Most people are dull. Time just kind of sits there. For me it’s been great to get up and out in the morning with a new voice ringing in my head as these leaves keep falling, and another three-hundred-and-sixty-five limp on their way to calling it a game.

OM-11/30/2014 Rejoicing In Things As They Are, Pema Chodron

Aleathia says:

I am a creature of habit.  Habit is comfortable to most and it is when we move away from that comfort that learning happens, change happens, and most often personal dysfunction because we have continually done things the same way.

Having said this, change is hard for me.  I always welcome new ideas and changes, but even knowing they are coming throws me for a loop.  It breeds a sense of chaos in me like no other.  I sometimes even get depressed about it.  In essence, I believe I go through a grief process when large changes happen.  This turmoil is normally followed by laughing at myself for being unreasonable and pouty before I move forward fully embracing whatever change is on the table.

I was reading from Pema Chodron's "Taking the Leap" today under the section "Rejoicing In Things As They Are" and this seemed right on for the day:

"When we begin to see clearly what we do, how we get hooked and swept away by old habits, our usual tendency is to use that as a reason to get discouraged, a reason to feel really bad about ourselves.  Instead, we could realize how remarkable it is that we actually have the capacity to see ourselves honestly, and that doing this takes courage.  It is moving in the direction of seeing our life as a teacher rather than as a burden.  This involves, fundamentally, learning to stay present, but learning to stay with a sense of humor, learning to stay with loving-kindness toward ourselves and with the outer situation, learning to take joy in the magic ingredient of honest self-reflection."

Foodies-11/27/2014 Be Thankful, Happy Thanksgiving!

Aleathia says:

Thanksgiving has long been one of my favorite holidays.  There is something horrifying and wonderful about a house full of people that don't normally congregate for an entire day.  There is laughter and loud conversations from across the room, remembrances, football, shouting, women in the kitchen talking and making food, and kids running around.  It was the only time that I ever felt like I belonged to a family is on those holidays where we piled into a home and broke bread.

I am not very good at making turkey.  I think I made it once in Seattle and I was 23 years old.  I made enough food to feed 12 families and I was only feeding me and my boyfriend.  Can you say massive leftovers?  It is ok when you are sending them home with family as they leave for the day.  Most of my years were spent as an orphaned kid in a strange land tagging along on other people's dinners.

One of my first years in Seattle my friend Mikela invited me to her apartment for dinner with all the other hippy kids.  It was my first and last ever vegetarian Thanksgiving.  Have you ever eaten Tofurkey?  Yuck.  I did make a mean stuffed eggplant with brown rice, sweet potatoes and onions. But most importantly it was about being included in their circle of friendship.  We ate dinner on a coffee table sitting on the floor listening to old records drinking wine and smoking weed.  When you are 22 you don't need much more than that really.

Another year my friend Faith invited me to her family gathering.  She had a large family and I felt a bit out of place before I got there like I was crashing their dinner because her mom didn't know I was coming, but when I got there I found that I was one of many holiday orphans.  Each of the kids brought someone to dinner that had no place to go.  This was a loving family, a religious family but in the best sense of the word.  They had faith, but they weren't uppity or righteous.  They were love personified.  Before dinner Faith's mom played the piano and all the children sang.  It was like listening to a choir of angels.  At dinner, before we ate a prayer was said and each person at the table had to tell something they were thankful for.  I was overcome with the perspective I had on life.  That dinner changed me, changed how I viewed everything in the world.

The remaining years were spent at one family member's or another.  Some years, after my divorce, Chloe would go to her father's for the family gathering and I would be left home alone, in the dark, crying and waiting to go to work.  It was one of the most horrific feelings in the world.  One year, my ex's father left their dinner and drove clear across town to bring me a plate of food.  I sat in front of my computer eating dinner, crying, and talking to my friend in Brazil on video chat.  Those were some of the darkest years I can remember.

And then, there is Michael.  He is the master of the bacon wrapped turkey and the keeper of my soul with the most amazing cranberry relish I've ever had.  Since he has been here our dinners have been intimate....just the two of us with Chloe getting home in time for pumpkin pie, but they have been wonderful holidays.  The food has been spectacular and for the first time I have a real family of my own.

This year is bittersweet.  It is the first Thanksgiving in our new home...one of many, but it is also the first Thanksgiving that I won't get that crazy call from my mother at the family dinner in which the phone gets passed around the house and I say the same things to 10 different people.  I'm going to miss that.  I miss her.  I know everyone must be tired of me boo hooing about my mom, but bear with me as I get through these holidays.  I have always loved family despite my rare appearances at any sort of functions they might have.  This is due to time and money and distance, not from lack of love.

I am thankful for my beautiful family, my crazy howling dog, our collective good health, our great neighbors, the girls at work that hold me up, my wonderful boss, and all the grace and wealth in our lives.  I am thankful for taking a leap of faith and believing that Michael and I would make it despite the huge odds.  I am thankful that this year I found a way to relate to my soon to be 13 year old before it's too late.  I am thankful for the lasting friendship and love of my father.  It is something I have always wanted.

So, enjoy your dinners and think of those who are less fortunate.  Maybe go out there and do something about it, or bring home a stray to share your dinner.  Take those crazy family phone calls.  Love every minute of the day.  Peace to you all.  I am blessed by the few that read these ramblings.  It keeps me out of trouble.