Well, let's do it

Kelli Mae: "But sauerkraut is a lot of work to make."
Sam: "No, no. Once you get a food processor, sauerkraut it makes itself--it makes itself, honey."

Is it bigger than a...

I have finally realized the need of a breadbox. When you make your own, you need a place to put it.

Makes sense

Me: "I haven't had coffee or alcohol in three days."
Sister: "God, no wonder you're depressed."

This is why I'm not getting a Ph.D.

Going to see the Gilmores,
to see Yalies who get dressed up
in dresses & suits & brooches & ties
to have drinks with their friends
on a Friday night,
who pithily talk about intellectual matters.

I want to be clever, have witty conversations while half-drunk
about t.s. eliot and heidegger,

but there’s no room for me here,
no place for me to freak out,
to make perfectly valid comments, like--
What about the pope, huh?
only to get blank stares.
or yell--
No! no! that’s bullshit!--
flailing my hands about,
how i do when i’m myself
around people who know myself.

In my hobo-chic clothes
drinking musty red wine
and smoking spliffs on the sly,
I tell people that I work at a co-op in Vermont
and insist that Bridget Jones Diary 2: The Edge of Reason is a meta-text,
while white couples hold hands limply.

The lonely-hearts couplet

“You can’t play frisbee alone.”
“Get a fucking dog.”

Untitled

tired, hungover, hungry,
it was rainy outside
and i didn’t have my coffee yet

i go to look at the cover of the Times,
like every morning--
my heart crushed from the night before
again and again
drinking and making bad decisions--

i glance at the headlines
but the above-the-fold is dominated by a gigantic, full-color photo
of a brown pelican
covered in oil
flailing
struggling out of the water.

we are both so tiny
and so far from each other
and from anyone who can help.
but i will live.

a co-worker walks by, seeing my tears,
rubbing my shoulder,
understanding the sentiment
if not the severity of my reaction.

and all i want to do is drink the oil,
drink the damaged ocean
and die
for that pelican.
he is better than me,
better than the rest of us
combined.

and then i go to work.

This is why I hate New York/cities/corporations/life

I just bought
and drank
an iced coffee
from a fucking McDonald’s
without realizing it
because it was called
a fucking Cafe Metro.

Seasonal citrus

A Hendricks martini with the juice of a Meyer lemon, garnished with frozen blueberries.

Still needs a name...A Meyers Michelle, in honor of Michelle Williams?

A new (hopefully not disgusting) cocktail

So we were freaking out a bit at work on Saturday about mint, and by 'we', I mean 'me', because it was the Kentucky Derby that weekend and everyone wanted to make mint juleps, obviously. That morning, I mentioned the mint issue to my manager, who was still groggy (this was about 7am), and he looks at me with this whatever look and says, They can live without their mint. Let them use dill instead. Let them come up with a cocktail using dill. Probably something with gin.

And of course at the mention of a new cocktail, I burst out with, I'm on it! So I discussed it with a co-worker who is also a gin enthusiast. We came up with a variation on the Gibson (martini with pearl onion garnish instead of olive):

• muddle dill in a rocks glass
• add ice
• a couple of dashes of angostura bitters
• dash of dry vermouth
• top off with gin
• garnish with pearl onion

I actually made this yesterday, and it was quite good. A savory cocktail that is a good aperitif, maybe with some nuts or cheese and crackers.

a haiku, of sorts

you can't play frisbee alone.