graffiti on a riverfront railing

What inspires the inscription of a life?  This is something I was thinking about today as I stood at the Belvedere, one of my favorite thinking spots.  This blog has remained silent for over a month now, not because my life hasn’t been worth inscribing and recording, but because my life is unfolding in a private bliss that feels too special and precious to write about publicly.  But today, while standing at the railing at the Belvedere riverfront, I noticed for the first time that the metal surface of the railing was full of etchings and scratchings that made permanent the moments of innumerable lives.  The graffiti either announced the existence of a relationship and True Love, or it announced that that person was there, at that spot, on that particular date.  This impulse to inscribe a life can come from the most mundane of things, or it can come from a place of profound emotion, and there is something beautiful and inspiring about the insistence with which our lives want to be made known, to an audience of a few, or an audience of many.

a conversation with an apartment maintenance guy

Due to some nonsense and tomfoolery related to my apartment door lock, I spent some time on the phone with a building maintenance worker trying to solve my problem. The problem was this: when I unlocked my door upon returning home this evening, I was unable to remove the key from the lock.

walking around downtown

This morning I felt like taking a little walk. I headed north, toward the river, and made my way to the Belvedere. I stood at the railing and stared at the water for a long time, thinking very happy (but unbloggable) thoughts. I watched traffic traverse the Second Street Bridge just a few blocks east of me. To the west, I could see the McAlpine Locks and Dam and the Falls of the Ohio State Park. I closed my eyes and felt the unexpectedly strong breeze on my face and hair.

When I decided that I had gotten enough staring-into-space time, I headed south, and then west. It seemed like a good idea to visit Louis XVI at the corner of Sixth and Jefferson. I examined him from all angles and thought about him, and his curious penchant for blacksmithing, and his inability to consummate his marriage until seven years later. It occurred to me that his legacy is not unlike that of another monarch who met a similarly tragic end, Nicholas II. Both were good men, but weak, indecisive, and not terribly bright, and utterly unsuited to ruling a country, let alone a country ravaged by revolt.

After Louis XVI politely acquiesced to a thorough photo session, I concluded my historical musings and walked back home.

blogging about the bloggable (and the unbloggable)

Right now I am sitting in my favorite window seat at my favorite coffeeplace, watching people out the window. I love Bardstown Road, especially this part of it, close to the intersection of Eastern Parkway. There is such an interesting cross section of Louisville life to be seen here. So far I have seen: gay daddies pushing a baby in a stroller, a hipster straight couple pushing a baby in a stroller, a goth-looking girl who I seem to see around these parts a lot, a long-haired dude wearing a t-shirt reading “Normal People Scare Me,” and a mail carrier delivering mail. There are people working in the garden at the church across the street. They are doing mysterious things with big clippery implements, a plastic container with a hose attached to the top, and a wheelbarrow. There is a new restaurant next door, a Persian place, and someone just came out and set up the big sandwich board sign announcing today’s special: celery beef stew.

a meditation on my cat, Septimus

My cat Septimus is five-year-old cranky moose.  He demonstrates his mooseness by being a big, solid, 15 lb. boy who never misses a meal.   He evinces his crankiness as follows:

a recipe for gazpacho salad

By popular demand!  Here is how I made my gazpacho salad.  It was inspired by this recipe, but I made it my own (as Randy Jackson would say on American Idol.)

1 huge zucchini

2 medium tomatoes

1 orange pepper

1 yellow pepper

1 medium red onion.

Chop everything up.  Throw it in a bowl.  Salt and pepper.  A few drizzles of olive oil (I used garlic-infused olive oil).  That’s it!  Done!  It’s also good with balsamic vinaigrette, but I preferred it without.

Yield: a metric ton, approximately.  It’s a lot for one person.  It started getting a little soggy by the third day, but it’s still good.

gazpacho salad

I have a weird and complicated relationship with food. Mostly, I eat what I want when I want it. I don’t pay attention to calories or fat grams or whatever, because I feel subservient and powerless when I do so. (I told you that this was weird.) I have been the kind of person who cares about those things, and I am pretty sure that this preoccupation made me a really boring and unhappy person. Ultimately, I rejected that kind of obsession and the body hatred that accompanied it. Instead, I thwart patriarchy by eating whatever the fuck I want. (I’m only half-joking.) These past few days, my body has been saying: GREEN FOOD PLEASE. ALSO: VEGETABLES WOULD BE NICE. I obliged my body’s polite request. I made this beautiful and delicious gazpacho salad, inspired by a recipe I saw on a cooking show. It is almost too lovely to eat. But I’m eating it anyway. This will feed me for a few days, and for those few days, I will feel healthy and strong and capable. All because I am eating vegetables.

a pack of puppies

Today I did one of my favorite Sunday afternoon things to do. I went to my favorite local coffee shop, bought a beverage (pomegranate iced tea), sat outside, read my book, wrote in my journal, stared off into space, thought some thoughts, and watched cars traverse the vast expanse of Bardstown Road. As I was sitting there, occupied by my exciting inner life, some guy sat down at the table next to me, and pretty soon a small crowd of people gathered around him. I was really irritated, because groups of people sitting next to me tend to distract me from my very important activities (namely: staring off into space). But when I noticed what exactly was drawing the crowd, I found myself joining the crowd, too. This guy had no fewer than five adorable puppies with him. He rescued them from an animal shelter, apparently, and you could tell, because as I sat on the ground and cuddled any puppy that would let me, I was startled by the boniness of their tiny frames. I felt the urgent beating of their hearts and wished that I were in a position to take in a puppy or two. But since I’m not, I had to content myself with scratching their little faces and imagining a safe and happy future for their helpless little lives.

a car with crazy bumper stickers

I had dinner with my friend P. the other night, and I saw this car in the parking lot.  I don’t know about you, but I think that the juxtaposition of “BLING BLING BIATCH” on the rear windshield and the Catholic radio station sticker above the license plate is a classy touch.

receiving old letters in the mail

After the first World War, a number of my Sicilian relatives chose to emigrate to France instead of the United States, and in the summer of 1976, my great-grandparents Mama Teresa and Papa Charlie spent a month in France visiting those relatives.  While there, Mama Teresa wrote several letters to her daughter (my grandmother) informing her of their travels and activities.  My grandmother made copies of those letters and sent them to me, because she thought I might enjoy seeing them, and I have to say that she was right. Mama Teresa has been gone twenty years this past February, so it was a shock to see her handwriting again, right there in front of me.  Here she was, in my hands, alive and well and having a wonderful time in Europe with her beloved husband.  If it was startling to see her handwriting again, it was even more startling to read this 32-year-old piece of family news.  In a certain letter written on June 15, 1976, Mama Teresa tells my grandmother that she and Papa Charlie were contenti e sorpresi to receive a letter from her oldest grandson and his wife containing la buona notizia dell’aspettito del nuovo bambino.  Translation:  they were happy and surprised to learn the good news that their grandson and wife were expecting a new baby.  Dear reader, that baby was me.