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I'm too tired to compose the entries I've been planning to write, but do have the energy to list some of my happiness triggers:
• The flannel shirts I got out of storage a few months back, after not using them since we moved to Tucson, and have been deploying as jackets avant la lettreSo there you have it: I'm becoming an inspirational poster!
• The way a freshly opened sleeve of Thin Mints smells
• Getting hit with a snowball by my winter-deprived daughter
• The rush I get from guitar-centric New Order songs, from "Ceremony" to "Krafty"
• Making a drop step, followed by a hook shot
• Anything involving sliced beef, mushrooms, ginger, and onions over rice
• The point of no return
• Arts and Crafts-style homes on Berkeley side streets
• That tingling sensation on the tip of my tongue
• Hearing a cat -- in this case Smokey -- crunch dry food in the kitchen
• A kiss on the neck
• The smell of nasturtiums
• No longer having to worry about whether the Bears will make the Tournament
• Making people feel better about themselves
• The font and leading in those MIT Press theory books
• Eating a corn muffin together with a Vietnamese coffee in the Encinitas Pannikin
• The research my partner is doing on interesting new music
• Whole-hearted hugs
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I'm just over 6 feet, but I'm way out of practice. My fg% will be an embarrassment. I remember back when I played pickup games I overheard these kids talking about me as we were running back up the court after I missed a shot. I heard, "The kid's got good form, but he can't hit a fucking shot to save his life."
Since then, I've taken it on as sort of a mantra - I'm all style, no substance. It's one of those charmingly sad things about me. Haha.
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Don't forget the party Saturday, yo!
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dinner. mmmmm
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Re: dinner. mmmmm
It's so easy. A wok works best. I start by searing some bell pepper pieces, then add onions. I like to get them both a little scorched before adding oil, but that's not necessary. Last night I chopped up celery root with ginger, spicy chile peppers, and garlic, then added that to the bell pepper and onions prior to the beef. The beef I'd pre-drizzled with soy sauce and a little vinegar. I added the beef and sliced mushrooms together. Once the beef was about half-cooked, I added enough chicken broth to keep stuff from sticking to the bottom of the wok and to generate the steam necessary to cook the beef the rest of the way. Sometimes I'll use wine instead of stock. It depends. Or I can use both. The idea is to get a starch-free "gravy" to ladle over the rice. Mmmmm.
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Re: dinner. mmmmm
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Eros, Eros, Eros . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thanatos
But you stopped me short with "the point of no return."
As Ben Jonson put it, meaning something slightly different, it's hard to imagine you wanting "to lose all father now." Perhaps the desire is the recurring condition of the possibility of not enacting it.
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Re: Eros, Eros, Eros . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thanatos
than four, I ate them to and fro
yet find another plate galore
and know I'll never sated slough.
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Re: Eros, Eros, Eros . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thanatos
Sometimes I wonder if (and what that means) the point of no return can only really look like no return in retrospect. And then I wonder what it is to reincorporate that in the looking in the now. And then I think about the way trying to find the point of no return is always also about trying to find not just the point when doom or bliss began to more than seem a given but also the last point when it didn't quite so fully seem so. Does it ever fully seem so? Is it ever last or does the question simply last.
Anyway.
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Fear Death by Drowning
Usually I'm about as open as the next goof to the lurking sexual pun in, or use of, a phrase, but it didn't even occur to me that Charlie was actually talking there about male orgasm.
I guess because Friday past was the memorial service of a friend of mine who actually jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, the idea of the point of no return seemed ineluctably wrapped in the ominous. It's synchronic of you to have tokened the name of Deleuze, theorist par excellence of the point of no return (1001 plateaus) and a jumper himself.
What is the relation between little deaths and death proper? What is death "proper"? When Derrida died, I kept saying to myself "Derrida is more, Derrida is more, Derrida is more." Stevens said it best when he said, "A pip of life amid a mort (amour) of tails."
There's a lighter note. To continue it, I like the idea of Ben Jonson's being cracked out on Deleuze (in my mourning, I want "the guy" in your post above to refer to its nearest antecedent).
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Are you doing an NCAA tourney bracket online as part of a group like through ESPN or Yahoo? If so, let me know if I can join your group. Usually, my fellow DJs at KAMP have a pool, but not this year.
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