...they've made their supper and opened wide the windows...

...the air was unnaturally still. No cars moved past their little house; it was that time of day when normally it would be the opposite. They could share a moment at supper, with the windows up for a change. The curtains barely moved.

The wife moved without a sound. She never did, thought her husband. He rubbed the back of his neck and produced flecks of small concrete. His callous hands rubbed against his shirt. He shifted from one leg to another, standing at the far end of the kitchen.

He asked her politely if she needed him - he was always looking for ways to be of help. She equally refused. She set out the dishes, the utensils, the food. It was all down without the need of anyone. It would have impeded the day.

They sat and did not look outside. The meal was capable. It was a chicken dish. There was rice pilaf. There was watered down grape juice.

The husband talked about the weather that week. For once he put a relish into the description that the wife found herself clinging to. She looked at him without pain, without admiration. She could sense the house around her - it was their life's work.

There was the grass that was mowed and pawned over. Corners where the dirt was swept bi-weekly. A corner of the attic where little rocks from Truckee were kept, not for any reason. There was fine china, just a single set, from their wedding. (Only an aunt from Trenton came to visit.)

She sighed. His voice was measured for a time, but stopped as if he couldn't figure out the next word.

A rumbling came in the distance. The house begin to shake. Outside the world was darkening. The two did not move from their seats.

They closed their eyes and the husband reached across the table for her hand and found it. The end came in a screech - no longer than a quarter of a breath. The articles of the house broke into their basic states. They were quickly no more.

...and the ecstasy of salad dressing...

...mixing drinks is like the ancient practice of magic - potions deigned for the purpose of changing states or materials. In my case, I was looking hard to absolve bullshift from one's soul. The potion I had a few weeks ago was a variant on the Crystal Bronx - trade the orange juice for maraschino cherry juice. They called it the 'Perfect Crystal' or some nonsuch...but the effect was nice. Brandy is a slow burn, but nice and steady when moderately imbibed.

Back to my own potion, since I was lacking in maraschinos -

In order.
Two jiggers of brandy.
One jigger of vermouth.
One jigger of red grenadine.
Handful of frozen blueberries.
One sugar cube.
Serve all over ice in a short glass.
Swizzle if you would like it mixed. I prefer to layer the tastes with the heavier brandy at the end.

Clears away the thousand injuries and the sea of troubles, not by opposing, but by careful measure of dispassion. L'chaim!

   

...joy of man's desiring...

Watching "Moi Van Gogh Brush with Genius" on Netflix Stream. I say to myself, "Glorious yield of undulating tones; lines with purpose made in easy simplicity. Malformed perfection. Colors I want to taste - roll in my mouth for their flavor. We feel those lines, we race along them - children down a favored country path. The people's painter. Outside our short reach; invariably on the edge of reason. Gifts of sight for us you've offered. Glorious fields and wondrous trees. Flowers that encompass. Supple samplings against just enough sky."

I think of Bach's "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring":
Jesus bleibet meine Freude,
meines Herzens Trost und Saft,
Jesus wehret allem Leide,
er ist meines Lebens Kraft,
meiner Augen Lust und Sonne,
meiner Seele Schatz und Wonne;
darum laß' ich Jesum nicht
aus dem Herzen und Gesicht.
—from BWV 147, Chorale movement no. 10

   

...May, she will stay...

...resting in my arms again. Updates continue with another chapter of "Miss Kitty". A little broken up, but I believe the narrative is still intact. Probably should look into a few more Twitter updates - I have been busy eating around the OC. More to come.

   

...April, Come She Will...

...when streams are ripe and swelled with rain...love that song. Updates in the Art and Photos block - but didn't have enough time to create an .html page per each shot, so please just use your 'Back' button to go back and forth between them. Please use the shots as desktop images and what have you - and, if you like them, support is a click away at my Deviant Art page. If there are requests shoot me an e-mail at mailto:admin@edwardianjackal.com and I'll get to you as soon as I can.

The new shots are a few of the Carlsbad Flower Fields a few weeks ago as well as shots in Vegas too. The CityCenter area is now my favorite hotel. Floor to floor art - not shunt off from getting up close and touching. Art-o-mats! I've loved those things for years and finally bought a $5 piece of original art in it. LOVE!

More to come. A refresh coming to my CafePress site and a possible update to an Etsy piece that I'm working on.

Actively working on "Heart Shaped Box", to be done by end of summer...then on to "Pace" and "Filipino Cookbook". Wish I had more time off. Let me know what you think!