Singing praises
Jun. 19th, 2004 11:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theatokosI love making guacamole. I love the flesh of the avocado. Varying shades of green, soft but firm, tough but delicate - they bruise so easily despite their thick looking skin. Smooshing it under a fork, with garlic lemon juice salt. Making fajitas last night was just an excuse to buy avocados, and to cook at Adam's quiet house. To feel civilised in the kitchen, adult and domestic in contrast to my transient institutional living space. Drinking negro modelo (?) highlighting the cumin and onions. Who knew I could develop a taste for beer? Slowly, but I am. I have one avocado left.
Not avocado related.
I have been meaning to put this up for a while. At least, so I can toss the piece of paper it's written on, but retain the words. I found this in a Douglas Coupland book, Souvenir of Canada. I love Canada. This section is in Y for Yukon, I love the Yukon, talking about his first trip with his father. This reminds me of how I feel about Alaska.
"The Klondike fulfills many expectations. The next day we headed off into Kluane National Park - a place I never even knew existed, but to fly over it was to apprehend God or the next world or something altogether richer than the suburbs of home. Glaciers drape like mink over feldspar ridges like broken backs, and the 24 hour midnight sun somehow burns paler and whiter than the sun in the south - and the horizon seems to come from a bigger planet. To see a wild landscape like this is to crack open your soul and see larger landscapes inside yourself. Or so I believe."
Not avocado related.
I have been meaning to put this up for a while. At least, so I can toss the piece of paper it's written on, but retain the words. I found this in a Douglas Coupland book, Souvenir of Canada. I love Canada. This section is in Y for Yukon, I love the Yukon, talking about his first trip with his father. This reminds me of how I feel about Alaska.
"The Klondike fulfills many expectations. The next day we headed off into Kluane National Park - a place I never even knew existed, but to fly over it was to apprehend God or the next world or something altogether richer than the suburbs of home. Glaciers drape like mink over feldspar ridges like broken backs, and the 24 hour midnight sun somehow burns paler and whiter than the sun in the south - and the horizon seems to come from a bigger planet. To see a wild landscape like this is to crack open your soul and see larger landscapes inside yourself. Or so I believe."