The Tomato Report

From little babies . . .




To bright green bulbs . . .


To sun-warmed salad-ready cherry tomatoes.

My Top 6 of the Moment

6. Eugene Hutz of Gogol Bordello: Mustached, Slavic, Schizophrenic, Sexy.


5. Will Ferrell: Can you even imagine how much fun it would be to wake up in bed with this man?



4. Jason Schwatzman of Coconut Records: This fellow needs to switch careers because Coconut Records is so unbelievably good. He would be the 'twee-ist boyfriend ever.



3. Either one of the Hot Knives: Hot vegan cooks/bloggers/beer-lovers. They've got cajones doing two things that the fellas don't typically do. Having an avid interest in the beloved domestic art of cooking (although as a Jezebel article I read the other day points out, it's totaly okay and curently hip for guys to be into cooking but not cool for them to be into any other domestic art, can anyone think of a heterosexual equivalent of Martha Stewart?), and having the balls to be manly men who don't eat meat. It ain't easy being that adorable, and I'd walk over hot coals to have an artisan crafted brew with either of these menfolks.



2. Adrian Brody: Just cause.



1. Sam Mason: New York City Chef and Host of online webcast, Dinner With the Band. Rock 'n Roll, daring flavor combinations, copious tattoos. Yum.

Dynamo Donuts

Lemon Thyme Donuts from the newly opened Dynamo Donuts in the Mission. I can't wait to try one.

Canned Sardines

I had my second sardine sandwich this week. Yum. I think I found a new canned protein friend.

I really liked canned fish when I was little, my sister reminded me the other day. I used to eat kippers straight from the can with a fork.

My first sardine sandwich was the result of a google search for sardine sandwich, and it came from this blog. It was one side sardines mixed with sauted mushrooms, onions, and garlic, and then a little olive oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper. On the other side of the bread was melted cheese. I heated both sides in the oven.

The bread I was eating was too thick, the cheese wasn't strong enough, but the sardine mixture was delicious. I also tried to eat this sandwich with lettuce which was a big flop because the lettuce was wilting between the halves pathetically. I pulled out the lettuce and tried to eat as much sardine as possible.

My second sardine sandwich was much more of a success. I ate it on untoasted sourdough bread with lettuce and mustard. This can of sardines was packed in tomato sauce, which I've read is common for sardines that come from Mexico or if they are packed in Thailand. I still added some olive oil and lemon juice to the mix, which was a good call because the lemon seemed to balance the acid in the tomatoes to make a more mild flavor.

On the downside, these sardines were cheaper and more gritty than the previous can I purchased.

I was worried about the mercury content being high in sardines like tuna, but I read on the internet that the sardine's low status on the food chain makes it far less of a risky fish to eat. They contain less mercury because their lives are shorter, and they don't eat other fish who contain mercury like predatory fish such as tuna.

Also in terms of the food chain, sardines are incredibly sustainable. When you eat predators, you are eating a larger chunk out of the food chain, but since sardines are bottom feeders, they reproduce faster, and there are more of them to eat. Eating bottom feeders impacts bio-diversity less.

Cheap, low mercury levels, non-perishable, environmentally sustainble, high in omega-threes and delicious. Oh sardines, I think this the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Congee

Pork and preserved egg congee with green onions topped with Chinese Donut from the Ming Wun-Tun Noodle House on 32nd and Noriega.



Side Order of Chinese donut.

4th of July Eats

White wine sangria with peaches, pears and strawberries, recipe from Scott's Food Blog.



A perfectly peeled hard-boiled egg for potato salad. I was very proud of myself.



The most addictive salt n pepper pistachios ever. Thank you Cost-co.



Our strawberries were ripe, maybe a little too ripe, but still good. The downside of being in season.

Little Baby Cherry Tomatoes

Two Meals

Quesadilla with sauteed onion, olive, and corn with salsa. Nicely plated.


Breadcrumb battered chicken breast with sauteed onions and garlic alongside spinach spaghetti with feta.

Adventures in Yeast

My attempt to make french bread last night was a hideous disaster, and a marvelous learning experience, producing completely inedible bread. You could beat someone with the results this morning.

Part 1: Yeasty Beginnings

I dissolved the dry active yeast in warm water. The package said that the water should be between 110 and 115 degrees. I didn't have a thermometer, so I guessed that should be below boiling (130-140? deg F) but hotter than the hot springs I sat in a few weeks ago (102 deg), so I figured I shouldn't be able to keep my finger in it for very long.

The yeast package said you heat water, dissolve yeast, let sit, and in 5 minutes, watch the yeast get bubbly. I may have seen a few bubbles, but my pot looked like miso soup. I read in a book later that a pinch of sugar often helps this process. Not sure of how many bubbles I should see I decided to keep going.

Part 2: Doughing What You Knead

I mixed the yeast into some bread flour and salt, then slowly mixed in the rest of the bread flour. While I made something of a mess on the counter, this is in my hypotheses, the only part of the baking that I got right. I got my dough ball out of the bowl, and kneaded the bread for about 10 minutes on the counter. Using the Test Kitchen instructions of pressing down with the heels of my hands and then turning and folding the dough, I got quite a rhythm down. This was the fun part. My dough ball even looked like the picture.



Part 3: A-Rising Discontent

Then it was time to put my happy little dough ball in a greased bowl, cover, and let rise, preferably in a warm place. I put it in the oven, but I found out later you're supposed to heat the oven to 200 deg and then turn off the oven, and then place said happy little dough ball in conducive rising chamber. My dough was hanging out in a drafty garage.

Part 4: Shape n' Rise

After hanging out in the oven for an hour and a half, my dough ball was bigger but definitely not double in size. I read that you are supposed to poke it with your finger and the dough should refill the indent at a moderate pace. My dough filled in, but slowly. Hope did not seem lost. I shaped the bread into a loaf and let it sit to rise again. 40 minutes later, no change. This was evidence that the yeast definitely wasn't working. At this point, I was tired, and I knew my bread was fucked. I decided to cook it anyway.

Part 5: Heating

Yes folks, I broke the pan. How do you break a pan? I'm not sure, but it definitely happened. I didn't think my bread was that heavy, or my oven that hot, but the baking stone cracked in half after 15 minutes of cooking.



Finished Product:

While my bread resembled a loaf shape, and had some nice golden brown spots on it, the interior bread was so dense that butter slid right off when I had a sample piece. It was heavy, leaden, and completely unrisen. My yeast was oppressed, not given the right conditions to grow. Surprisingly, although the texture was all wrong, my hot sample was relatively good tasting. This morning, it wouldn't have even made good croûtons. It reminded me of when you bake flour and water to build a replica of the Alamo for a fourth grade history project.





Regardless, I was kind of proud of my bread bat.

Borscht

What a big fucking mess. I had beet juice everywhere. It spilled over the pot, sprayed out from the grater. I kept finding little red renegade pieces of beet on the kitchen floor. Both of my hands have a tinge of magenta all over the palms. No pictures of the mess, but hopefully pictures of the meal to follow.

Batting Zero

Sometimes it's really hard to stay on the horse . . .

Pasta Fagiole

My attempt at making pasta fagiole.

The successful doctoring of leftover tomato soup

I took a recipe from Epicurious.com that contained a good number of the leftover ingredients that were left in my fridge.

My ingredient list

1/2 box creamy tomato soup
1 cup chicken broth
1 can water (2 cups)
1 can stewed tomatoes (with juice, undrained)

5 celery stalks, chopped
1/2 red onion, chopped
2 carrots, chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed

1 tsp sugar
1/4 tsp black pepper
1 tsp salt
1 pinch oregano
1 pinch saffron
1/4 tsp red pepper flakes

Approximately 1/2 cup white rice.

I sauteed the vegetables with the red pepper flakes and garlic until they were softened and started to brown. In went the tomato soup, stewed tomatoes (with juice) water, broth, and remaining spices. That simmered for 20 minutes, and then I put in the rice, and let it simmer for 20 more minutes.

What resulted was a tasty tomato, rice and veggie stew. The red pepper flakes and saffron added a nice heat. Would have been better with bread and meat, but it was definitely a successful salvage of leftovers!

Beautiful Breakfast Quiche

My sister made this beautiful quiche for breakfast. Yum.

Kitties

Today, I really wanted to get a kitty. These are the three I wanted to bring home today. Their names are Natasha, Bubba, and Kaely. Natasha is 9 years old, and I love her smushed face. Bubba was listed as an all around good natured gentlemen, and Kaely is half manx and has no tail! I love nubbie kitties.

Black Opal Raspberry Licorice

Oh my god. This is some good licorice. Soft, ultra-sweet, with a face puckering artificial strawberry taste. I'm really crazy about the size and texture of each piece, thick and chewy without being sticky.

Koolickles

I am not really a fan of dill pickles, even the fresh ones from the deli. I sort of like them on sandwiches, and I like sweet relish, but when I heard about the phenomenon of Koolickes, pickles soaked in kool-aid, I immediately wanted to try one. Apparently it's a really popular thing in the South. People sell them in liquor stores.

it's cold at work. brrr.

The cuties have fallen

Dicator Cuties

Freelines

nice lyrics i heard on the radio today

The old already know the reason
So do the sad hotels
That too much is for a short while
And is still not enough
And is only once
Protect me in evil
Everywhere protect
The grace of your heart.

Still protect
The grace of my heart
Now and for when
Still protect
The grace of my heart
Now and for when
Of you beside me

so very nice to see you again honey . . .

This Is Just to Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

-- W. C. W.

Personalized Love Bird Mugs

Exactly the sort of item I would sell at my store.

Lamb Shepherd's Pie

1 lb ground lamb
1 tsp thyme
1 tsp worshtescher (sp?)
1/2 cup onions
2 chopped garlic cloves
1 can stewed tomatoes partially drained.
2-4 cups green beans
cheese for topping
1 box instant au gratin potatoes

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cook lamb with thyme and worshtescher, plus onions and garlic. Cook until meat is no longer pink. Boil water to blanch the green beans. Blanch beans and drain. Start potatoes according to box directions. Remove lamb and onions with slotted spoon and place in casserole dish. Top with can of stewed tomatoes, and then green beans. Mix together. Pour potatoes over the top. Sprinkle cheese on top. Bake for 25-30 minutes.

Mushroom Turkey Burgers

I made turkey burgers last Tuesday. I put some mushrooms, and a shallot in the food processor, and mixed it into the turkey meat. It made the burgers meatier. I really like it, and would definitely do it again.

Spanish Rice

I discovered the greatness of making your own spanish rice after I read something about MSG. I freaked out for a little while, and tried to avoid it whereever I could. I eventually calmed down about it realzing that if I didn't eat MSG, I would never eat another Cool Ranch Dorito.

I made some of the boxed versions in the past. I used to use the Mahatma brand (which does have MSG), and then after my MSG freakout, I tried the Near East Brand that also makes couscous, and rice pilaf. I think I may have even tried the Uncle Ben's version, but I don't really remember.

I looked up how to make it on the internet, and tried a few different recipes. After a little trial and error, and a few modifications, this is the rice that I make.


Spanish Rice

This recipe can easily be doubled if you double the onion, chili powder, salt, water, and broth (and rice of course :)

1 tblsp olive oil
1/2 an onion chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
1 cup rice (brown or white)
1 can stewed tomatoes
1/2 tsp chili powder
pinch of oregano
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup water (2 cups if you are using brown rice)
1 cup chicken or vegetable broth
*optional 1/2 cup of frozen corn/peas/carrots for color

In a large skillet, heat the olive oil over medium/high heat and add the rice. Add the onion and garlic. Cook onion/rice mixture, stirring frequently, about 4 minutes until the onions are softened and translucent. The rice will start to brown a little.

Add all of the other ingredients and stir. Bring to a simmer, and lower the heat. Cook 25 minutes or until the liquid has burned off (it may take longer for brown rice) to your desired moisture level. My sister likes the rice to get burned on the bottom, but the rice can be really good too when it's a little more moist and squishy too, depending on your mood.

Enjoy with sour cream and guacamole.

My Modified Chicken Adobo

Chicken Adobo Ingredients:

2 lb. chicken thighs, skins removed, cut off the bone into pieces

1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup light or dark soy sauce
3 1/4" slices of fresh ginger
3 cloves of garlic, crushed and skins removed
1/4 cup rice vinegar
32 oz chicken stock to cover
1 bay leaf

Serves 2 to 3 people

Method:

Don't forget to start the rice! Put all ingredients into a large pot, bring to the boil and then reduce heat to simmer until chicken is tender (approx. 1 hour)

Remove the chicken with a slotted spoon, and put it in a saute pan with a little olive oil. Saute on high heat until chicken is crispy. About 5 minutes. I like the "burny flavor." Serve chicken with white rice, and pour the sauce over both.

food i made plus a musical note

polenta and vegetable bake. tasted like lasagna. a lot of eggplant.

never got around to making a salad with the fuyu persimmons. they sure are pretty though.

i baked a batch of cookies. i made two pots of coffee.

salmon salad with white beans last sunday.

plus, shankar jaikikshan's title music from merchant ivory's film bombay talkie caught my attention from the darjeeling limited.

To Do.

Breakfast: Part 2

This is the greatest thing ever.

Asparagus

18th century poet Charles Lamb thought that the vegetable inspired gentle thoughts, while Aristotle thought that it caused erections.

Locked Out

I locked myself out of the house on Saturday. A little turn of the old doorknob on our front door exiled me outside of the house with dog in tow. I sat with friends and waited for our locksmith to arrive. When the locksmith arrived, I couldn't believe the plumber butt that he displayed. It was like it was out of a movie or a sitcom that our handyman should have such a preference for low waisted pants, and not wearing underwear.

Sunday morning I awoke, and I felt like I had to make up for my $150 mistake. I scrubbed the sink, the toilet, vacumned the carpets, swept the floor, emptied the catbox, and did a load of laundry. I paid $150 to get in the house; I was going to make sure I stayed in it for awhile and took some measure to make it the best house possible.

Oyster Shooter

my first oyster shooter. spicy, salty, and slimy as it slipped down my throat. a little burn and then it was gone. in the shotglass: jalapeno infused vodka, cocktail sauce, a dash of Tabasco and of course a raw oyster.

bubble bubble pearl milk tea

i enjoyed a most delicious coconut green milk tea with pearls today. bubble tea is so refreshing on a hot day. It's always oh so satisfying to punch the oversized straw through the cellophane and hear the subtle "pop", so much so that I don't really want the bubble tea unless they have the machine that seals the plastic cup closed.

Wikipedia has this to say about it:

"The original bubble tea consisted of a hot Taiwanese black tea, tapioca pearls, condensed milk, and honey.

These tapioca pearls are made mostly of tapioca starch, which comes from the tapioca, or bitter-cassava plant. In other parts of the world, the bitter-cassava plant may be called manioca or yuca. Cassava is native to South America, and was introduced to Asia in the 1800s. The balls are prepared by boiling for 25 minutes, until they are cooked thoroughly but have not lost pliancy, then cooled for 25 minutes. After cooking they last about 7 hours. The pearls have little taste, and are usually soaked in sugar or honey solutions.

There are two shops that claim to be the first creator of Bubble Tea. One is Liu Han Chie who worked in Chun Shui Tang teahouse Taichung City, Taiwan in the early 1980s, and experimented with cold milk tea by adding fruit, syrup, candied yams, and tapioca balls. Although the drink was not popular at first, a Japanese television show generated interest among businessmen. The drink became well-known in most parts of East and Southeast Asia during the 1990s.

An alternative origin is the Hanlin Teahouse in Tainan City, Taiwan, owned by Tu Tsong He Hanlin Bubble tea is made by adding traditional white fenyuan which have an appearance of pearls, supposedly resulting in the so-called "pearl tea." Shortly after, Hanlin changed the white fenyuan to the black, as it is today.

"Bubble Tea" in Chinese actually refers to a modern method of beverage preparation: to efficiently and homogenously mix various ingredients in these drinks (e.g., sugar, powdered milk, tea, and ice), drink makers often shake the tea up as bartenders do with cocktails. Thusly prepared, a layer of foam forms on the surface, and any tea so prepared can be called bubble tea.

good things

1. coffee
2. butter
3. lemons

I am now a real office worker . . .

because I purchased this.

existential loneliness at the dryer

most of the time i am okay with my single status. I definitely have those moments where i feel this melancolic haze about what things could be like, but i've been maturing and realizing that my life is as good as it will ever be, so dwelling on how things could be better is a waste of time.

but then i have these ridiculous moments where i don't want to feel so alone. pulling my laundry out of the dryer today, it hit. what do i expect? someone to clean the lint out of the lint trap with me, each of us holding a plastic edge, while my other hand reaches out to wipe away the sheet of linty fibers.

i realize fully that this is ridiculous.

most classicly, it's the waking up each morning that i find the toughest. i have no problem coming home to an empty bed, but waking up inside of one is more frightening. i roll over each morning to a vacant slot with an unused pillow next to it. the delight and/or regularity of having someone there is something i have never really been able to get used to.

so much so that I have much difficulty in the past sleeping next to someone. i get insomnia, that usually fuels my love sickness, and makes me loopy as can be.

George oppen talks about the moment of awakening quite extensively in his poetry. it is the moment that light hits our eyes that we realized that we exist. we see something that proves that we are expereincing, that we are alive. maybe what i long for is to see a mirror image, a male image that reminds me that I exist. that i am not just a floating entity. Is this what true love is able to prove to us? That we exist, quite simply, alongside of each other. Proximity becomes comforting, even though we experience alone. Why is romantic love different?

I don't mean this in a way that being with a man would as the cliche goes "fill the void" inside of me, but I do desire to feel presence of a certain masculine variety. Presence, being present . . . engagement.

I watched a man on the bus yesterday methodically change his text message to someone that I presume was a girlfriend. He slowly made the message he was sending to her less and less engaged. It went from something like "let's meet here at this time" to "lemme know" (let me was spelled just like that) . . . text messaging is the best thing that ever happened to boys.

the desire for presence is such a female desire, and the desire for casual freedom such a masculine one. i resent feeling like such a cliche.

motion

i'm in one of those places again where everything seems up in the air. i have no idea what will happen next. i don't know what I want out of my life. i don't know what i want to be. I believe this is commonly referred to these days as "the quarter life crisis." i am excited by the thought of the opportunities ahead of me for self improvement.

on a similar note, my opinions are more clear cut these days. i assume i am on the path to a higher level of self assurance.

going with the flow is simultaneously not acceptable, and my only option. i guess what i mean is that i am open to whatever fate has to offer me, but i am aware of the fact that I am in control when i believe that it is taking me somewhere i don't want to go.

These names only mean something to you

Vocabulary.
my vocabulary against your vocabulary. everytime i have to communicate with someone, (and sometimes even with myself), I run up against this conflict.

Each person seems to have their own set of meaning that they are woking within.

a new computer

a new haircut

I've been trying to clean and minimize these days. It feels wonderful. A few weeks ago I recycled some old cassette tapes, this week I have a bag full of books that I'm going to donate. I put stray paperwork in it's filed home, and spare blankets in their place in the basement. Less weight, more clarity, I hope. The comic books are on the agenda, and there's a bag of old shoes sitting at home to go out too.

Like the roasted body of an animal, you and I, we consumed each delicate bite. We picked off all the meaty morsels, and chewed them over. We revisited the flavors of the passion we shared. I picked, you picked, we both chewed on the fat, fed ourselves on the meat.

The carcass is left, the flavor is still in my mouth, and sadly darling, there is no more to eat.

I still want to chew off your shoulder. I want to give you my arms and my calves.

The fading sets in even further, but I remember fondly . . .

Your Catfish Friend
by Richard Brautigan

If I were to live my life
in catfish forms
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by
one evening
when the moon was shining
down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge
of my affection
and think, "It's beautiful
here by this pond. I wish
somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish
friend and drive such lonely
thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would be
at peace,
and ask yourself, "I wonder
if there are any catfish
in this pond? It seems like
a perfect place for them."

Dear Anonymous Commenter to My Blog

Hello,

I have turned my comments back on. I trust that you will not abuse the feature. I understand your good intentions, but I was displeased that you used my real name in my blog. I do not want it posted.

I was unsettled by the nature of your comments, especially after the second poem you left for me (both poems I have removed from the blog). Your sentiments were of an overly reverant nature. Your fascination with me is largely constructed. You do not know me as a person.

I have no idea who you are. I have read the posts you made to your blog, the blog that you linked to in one of your posts, and have now deleted.

If you would like to commment on my blog, please be transparent about your identity.

Best,

A Thursday in the ER . . .

I saw my doctor last thursday morning. I had to drink tons of water and wait forty minutes to give him a sample. He wrote me a prescription, and sent me to the ER.

By the time my sister drove me to the emergency room, I was in serious pain. My bladder was visibly distended. The previous two days, urination had required ample time, the sound of a faucet running, and some reading material, usually the back of a hairspray bottle to distract me and relax me enough to let it flow. It was hard to walk into the ER.

They gave me my robe, and showed me the hospital room where I would be waiting for my doctor. It was more like an operating room with a huge light over my head. I had peed once on my way in, and the pain returned. It was excruciating.

I talked to at least 3 doctors reviewing my story, my theories of what was causing my affliction. They told me it wasn't a normal bladder infection, that I should be going a lot, not retaining.

They did a bladder scan: 967 ml. It was obvious I needed to be drained.

They took my blood, and I waited. It was cold and I was feeling overwhelmed. The nurse returned, and put in a foley catheter. I didn't notice an immediate release in pressure, but within 5 minutes, my only discomfort was the presence of the catheter. I drained steadily for quite awhile. I hade 1500 ml inside me, more than a liter!! That's more than a carafe of wine.

They sent me home with a leg bag, and instructions to see a uroligist. Thank goodness my sister was there with me. Not the way I expected things to be. I thought I was going to get prescribed antibiotics at the first doctor's office, and go to work, go to yoga in the evening, but I was at home with a catheter.

Lucky Breaks

So I won a television from Lucky Magazine. It's a 20" LCD screen. At first I thought it was spam, but curiosity got the better of me. I did remember entering for it. . . and it was real. Arrived on my doorstep last week. A pretty nice tv too.

I had no idea what to do with it. I have a small room, and it would require me to buy a dvd player. I also already have a tv/dvd set up, one of those all in one combo units. I decided to give it to my parents. They can use as a big computer monitor. My dad will be proud of my gold bar syndrome . . . runs in the family.

busride from hell

oh my god, what a day.

i hightailed it to south station to get on an earlier bus, and they put me on a bus leaving in 15 minutes. I rolled my luggage over and quickly bought some water and gum.

On the way, I had to get out off the t train a stop early because my transfer station didn't have an elevator down to the platform. I went above ground and walked.

Back to the fung wah bus. I get on at 1:30. We begin the ride to New York.

The cell phone reception in connecticutt is awful. The bus is cold, and I curl up to sleep. While I sleep, the sun comes out and melts the cookie I put in my pocket. The bus stopped at a mcdonald's to let us pee, and i look down to see what looks like a poop stain on my hand. i looked down further to see the chocolate from my melted cookie overflowing out of my hoodie. ewww.

back on the bus. we are in traffic for nearly 3 hours getting into manhattan.

got off on the lower east side at 8:30. Missed my chance to reprint my e-ticket, and missed the connecting bus that i was supposed to get onto philly at 8pm. I walk the wrong way down canal st.

i've got a lot on my mind.

the chinatown bus station is crazy. things are poorly labeled, people are yelling at me to get on their bus.

i accidentally almost got on a bus to dc.

thank god i asked. i hit my head putting my luggage into the cargo on the right bus.

Once i'm on my philly bus, there was a beeping up front, so i moved to the back, and when the bus was moving, it sounded like clattering floorboards. I feared for my life. i had visions of the frame shifting while we were on the highway.

the people in front of me have their ipods on loud. i can hear their music "it's raining men, halleleujah"

whoa. close to midnight i arrived in philly. . .

There are always more rocks to smoke on

I smoked a cigarette naked on a rock 8700 ft above sea level. In light of this, everything is okay . . .

California was in front of me, and Nevada behind me.

The high-altitude winds blew through my crotch when I took off my pants, cooling the sweat from the hike up to the peak.

A raised column of rock made the perfect seat for my tush. I had a hard time getting my cigarette lit, but once it was I sucked in the smoke as if it was the air my life depended upon.

I stretched my arms up, and the sun crawled towards late afternoon.

This was a non-sexual moment, pure in its intentions. Just a moment to be in tune with my mind, with the scene before me.

Cigarettes

I have this sort of odd obsession with pictures of people smoking. The photos are always so meditative, so ethereal, so lovely. I don't care about it perpetuating a negative habit. I have a flickr feed on my browser homepage that shows me different photos each morning. This is my favorite from today.

Candles flickered on every round table throughout the bar. The man at the piano swung his long hair backward, and emphatically played John Lennon's "Imagine," in an almost ragtime fashion. He began to sing. Cars passed regularly in the background, subtle white noise. Dusk settled.