Vacation Days: Dresden Dolls and Patriots

I am one to be vacation-sick, i.e. after my requisite 72 hours in my purple robe I grow impatient with laziness and long for a Project. Anything to regain a sense of purpose, even it must be back to the nine-to-five. This year, however, vacation has been refreshingly sweet. The key is to try new things. . .

Saturday we lazed around the house all day pajama-clad. Leftovers were warmed in our new microwave, a high point of the day. Finally about seven we bathed and dressed for our night on the town: a concert at the Orpheum theater in downtown Boston. I prepped the family by downloading two CDs and playing them throughout the day. The band: the Dresden Dolls.

I have to admit, the more I read about the Dresden Dolls and their opening acts, the less sure I was that our twelve-year-old sidekick was ready for the experience of seeing them live in concert. Yet. Going to a concert with your parental types can only be a good thing in terms of nullifying any allure of the less than savory aspects of an "alternative" culture--it renders nose rings uncool if your adults give tacit consent by attending a concert with the same crowd. Our tyke (whose shoes are too big for me and I am not a delicately shod woman) donned his Notre Dame cap instead of any secondary metal.

We missed the first opening act, Meow Meow, mostly by design. A twelve-year-old can only take so much and I bargained that were better off missing the first installment of the evening. You can read about the act in the Boston Globe article "Here, kitty kitty." We did hear the second opening act, a band from Brooklyn, NY called the Luminescent Orchestrii. They were surprisingly good. They opened with a Romanian gypsy-ish song, much to our delight. They played music from all kinds of traditions--French, Bulgarian, Yiddish--but added their own twists. Very fun.

The twelve-year-old was showing signs of concert fatigue by the end of the Luminescent Orchestrii's set. It should be noted that he was keenly aware that the Patriots were playing the Giants in an attempt to complete a perfect season. As we are partly to blame (mostly to blame?) for fostering a love of the Fighting Irish which has morphed into a Patriot's passion, we felt his pain. The concert was LOUD and slightly BORING knowing that THE game was in progress.

We all perked up when the Dresden Dolls took the stage. They are musicians and performers. It was a show to say the least. L. and I could have stayed through till the end, but round about 10 pm the new experience threshold for the tyke crested. Luckily we got to hear "Coin-Operated Boy" before we had to make a mad dash for a cab and home in time for the fourth quarter. We happily watched Tom Brady lead the Patriots from behind to win and thus complete a 16 - 0 season. Revitalized by the Dresden Dolls and thrilled by the Patriots. A good night.

View the video for "Coin-Operated Boy":

Read the Boston Globe's Review of the Dresden Doll's Performance:
Theater is fitting for dramatic art of Dresden Dolls

A sample from the Luminescent Orchestrii's work (available on their website):
http://www.lumii.org/mp3/Luminescent_Orchestrii_-_Taraf_Hijacked_192k.mp3
If you go to the website, you will see that palinka has fueled their inspiration. . .

Saturday Morning Cereal: McCain in New Hampshire

What to do on a Friday night in New England? We loaded up the car with granola bars, water bottles (reusable, filled with tap water, of course), my new crochet project (my first after a seven year hiatus) and road tripped to New Hampshire to be a part of the political fervor that is primary season.

L. googled and found a free and public event for young professionals hosted by a company called wedu (insert umlaut above the letter u). Senator McCain was the guest of honor. Today Bill Clinton is scheduled to speak in New Hampshire. We couldn't wait for today. McCain it was meant to be.

We followed Linda, our gps device, north to Manchester, New Hampshire, arriving about twenty minutes early. We knew it was the right venue due to the McCain bus and the McCain Hummer souped up for parade events. A Hummer? I remember that Hummer provided a vehicle to a certain Indiana Republican, Chocola, for politicking. I guess McCain was on their list too. (McCain was later to address environmental issues and the problem of dependence on foreign oil.) To be fair, perhaps the Hummer belonged to an ardent follower. Still.

We were handed blue McCain lapel stickers by a guy on the right and Sierra Club flyers and stickers from the left. We donned the stickers--might as well get in costume for the event. The room, which seated about 50 people, was warm. Our twelve-year-old companion promptly started to die of hunger (granola was in the car) and fade with sleepiness (what can you do?). Did I mention that half the room (it seemed) was packed out with media people furiously typing on laptops or adjusting their digital cameras? The white plastic chairs were very uncomfortable for a pregnant lady of thirty-two weeks. We settled in. The local TV people started to interview the audience members. Though I was seated on the inner aisle, I escaped the camera. Jazzy music glazed the room as we waited for the event to begin. And waited. There was a hand lettered sign tacked up behind the podium that read "THE MAC is BACK!"

Soon McCain was introduced and took the stage to applause. He is a compact man. Dressed in a navy suit, maroon sweater vest, and light blue collared shirt, he appeared comfortable. After explaining that they had been delayed in Iowa due to a broken snow plow, he quickly turned over the microphone to Jane Swift, former governor of Massachusetts. She supports McCain due to his views on education and national security.

McCain then spoke for approximately twenty minutes before taking questions from the audience. Though he touched on several topics, he said that the ONE thing that we should remember from the evening is: Al-Qaeda is on the RUN, they are NOT DEFEATED. Iraq may be receding as an issue for voters. It is receding because we are succeeding. YET. He said that we face a "transcendent challenge" these days from radical Islamic terrorism. Case in point, Bhutto's assassination was carried out by those in . . . and here I can't recall exactly how he phrased it, but essentially he linked her death to Al-Qaeda. His response? Military, diplomatic, and ideological. Pakistan is important because it has nuclear weapons and we should respond by 1. Securing those weapons and 2. Securing the election process. Then McCain said that Bhutto had been a "transcendent figure" and that it would be hard to replace her (or something to that effect). Transcendence? Transcendent challenge AND transcendent figure? What? What does he mean by transcendence? Al-Qaedo and Bhutto are transcendent? Que?

Then it was time for questions. What impresses me is that anyone off the street can stand up and ask any question. The Sierra Club asked him about global warming (he prefers "climate change"), a woman asked him about health insurance (he seemed unsure of his answers), another woman asked about America's policy toward promoting condom use in Africa to prevent HIV/AIDs (he blamed corruption in Africa as a reason why we shouldn't send aid), someone asked about how to fund the war in Iraq (no new taxes will be involved). I wanted to ask about education and his stance on reform and No Child Left Behind. I developed a case of bashfulness fueled by chair-weariness and early onset dinner pangs.

It was good to be part of the stump. It was surreal to hear someone stand in front a live audience and say "I should be president because....." I mean, who really says that? It seems like made-for-TV drama material.

This just in: We invited some friends to join us yesterday. They missed the first event, but made it to McCain’s headquarters for a brief meet-and-greet before joining us for dinner. They shook his hand. They just called to let us know they have caught the campaign spirit. They returned to New Hampshire today to shake Bill Clinton’s hand and are hot on trail of events all day long. . .

Saint Mary's College Women's Choir: Amazing Grace

The Saint Mary's College Women's Choir is recognized as one of the finest collegiate women's ensembles in the country. They have just released their 4th CD of new music for women's voices on the ProOrganolabel. Here they perform Ron Jeffers' arrangement of "Amazing Grace."

Saint Mary's is my alma mater. The choir, of which I was a fan and not a participant, submitted the above video as part of the Clash of the Choirs television contest. View the site at http://my.nbc.com/groups/videos/clash-of-the-choirs?videoID=676468

Saturday Morning Cereal: H.D.

from "The Walls Do Not Fall" by H. D.

excerpts from [4]

so I in my own way know
that the whale

can not digest me:
be firm in your own small, static, limited

orbit and the shark-jaws
of outer circumstance

will spit you forth:
be indigestible, hard, ungiving,

so that, living within,
you beget, self-out-of-self,

selfless,
that pearl-of-great-price.

excerpts from [8]

but if you do not even understand what words say,

how can you expect to pass judgement
on what words conceal?

[18]

The Christos-image
is most difficult to disesntangle

from its art-craft junk-shop
paint-and-plaster medieval jumble

of pain-worship and death-symbol,
that is why, I suppose, the Dream

deftly stage-managed the bare, clean
early colonial interior,

without stained-glass, picture,
image or colour,

for now it appears obvious
that Amen is our Christos.

excerpt from [33]

let us not teach
what we have learned badly

and not profited by

[39]

We have had too much consecration,
too little affirmation,

too much: but this, this, this
has been proven heretical,

too little: I know, I feel
the meaning that words hide;

they are anagrams, cryptograms,
little boxes, conditioned

to hatch butterflies. . .

poets.org: H. D.

Friday Night in Boston: Love + Butter

Frying under the radar
At Love+Butter supper club, dining is a covert experience

By Janice O'Leary, Globe Correspondent | November 28, 2007

There's no sign on the door, there are no business cards near the entrance, and there is no phone number to call for reservations. You may dine there and never learn the names of your hosts. But that's all part of the mystery.

Love+Butter is an underground restaurant, or supper club, as it calls itself, the first in this area. It's not listed in any dining guides, and all the advertising is word of mouth. But those who have eaten there give this illicit venture and the chefs who run it top ratings.

For years diners on the West Coast have been scrambling for invites to underground restaurants, where local chefs take off their toques to cook in a small setting without the limitation of having to cater to public tastes. Other cooks also got on board, creating illegal supper clubs in their homes, friends' homes, even, in one case, a bus on the beach.

Love+Butter does not take place in a bus on the beach, happily. It's in a private home, where on weekend nights you can secure a seat at a table for six by making an online reservation. Unless you book it for yourself and five companions, you'll be seated beside a stranger. But by definition, the other guests are typically interesting and add to that sense of discovery. Love+Butter provides only water, so it's strictly BYOB, which wine lovers appreciate. There is no set charge for dinner, but rather a suggested "donation" of $45 per person in cash, with a discount for students or those working at nonprofits. Interested diners go online to see the five-course menu one week in advance. None of the courses are set in stone. Special requests such as fish instead of red meat, or restrictions because of allergies can be accommodated.

The underground spot has no license to operate, nor has the Board of Health inspected it, which means it risks being closed down. In California, one underground restaurant, Digs Bistro, was busted and shuttered, but parlayed its success into a legal business just last month.

While the air of secrecy does add spice to the experience, having a restaurant in a home means that the duo who run this place are both cooks and servers. As a result, some things are downright homey. Flatware isn't replaced after each course, and diners pour their own water. As for decor, crates of books line the walls. Think graduate student housing, only spotless.

The venture isn't a moneymaker.

"It would take one creative accountant to find profit in this," says one of the chefs.

So why do it?

For love. The love of good food and feeding others, they say. But also for a more sentimental reason: their love for each other. They wanted a project that would bring them closer. "We have very different professional lives," says one half of the duo. "This was a project we could do together." And they simply enjoy cooking for others. "We were feeding people long before this."

Making a meal in their tiny kitchen might test the tightest relationship, but for these two, harmony rules the house. On one visit, while they prepped for the night's meal, one had sent small rounds of dough to the oven, hoping they'd bake into puffy little cakes, but they flattened and spread into a thin, crispy layer of brown. They tasted it. Not bad, but not what they wanted. No worries. The other chef remixed the dough with more flour and tried again.

While the two cooked, there were no recriminations, no sighs of exasperation. It might have been a lesson for kitchens and marriages both.

Their food philosophy is the popular one these days, buying local and organic whenever they can. A farmer brings them grass-fed lamb, which is tender and flavorful, prepared four ways: lamb's tongue with beets becomes an appetizer, set on Chinese soup spoons with herby pesto. The entree is fashioned from peppered lamb loin, braised lamb shank, and seared lamb belly.

"Each muscle is distinct," says the half of the duo who used to be vegetarian. "With several cuts of [lamb] we can put all kinds of cuts on display. It becomes an act of discovery."

A lineup of dumplings, vegetables, and rabbit broth for a second course is the only clunker in the mix. The dumplings are undercooked and a tempura carrot has lost some of its flavor, although the golden crust is a model.

The third course is Spanish mackerel fillet with two potato pancakes and white gazpacho with chorizo. "The only food I've had in Boston that's better than what these folks cook is at L'Espalier," announces one of the guests.

Amuse-bouches - tiny mouthfuls - punctuate the meal, such as an apple fritter with a crisp outside and springy inside, offered with a shot glass of apple essence and a palate-cleansing spoonful of salty-sweet cucumber jelly over preserved-lemon ice.

A fourth course, called "Herbs & Spices" on the hand-printed menu, includes an unusual trio, beginning with a tablespoon of Greek yogurt topped with rosemary sugar, a buttery cookie with juniper icing, and a bay-leaf gelatin cube, all with vastly different, yet compatible, textures and flavors. "We wanted to pay attention to each flavor - rosemary, juniper, and bay leaf," says one of the chefs, "in isolation and then unite them."

The final dessert course includes spiced cardamom bread with orange and lemon rind, ice cream dotted with pieces of preserved bergamot (the citrus that flavors Earl Grey tea), and a warm slice of pumpkin.

After dinner ends, the chefs answer questions about the menu. The two are smart, thoughtful, and quite shy. There's no denying that what they do, they do for love.

Love+Butter might smack of a certain elite foodiness if the meals weren't so carefully and cleverly prepared. And the secrecy is fun. Who doesn't want to give a smart answer to colleagues wondering what you're doing this weekend or be able to bring a date to a restaurant no one knows about?

Alas, there's no receipt to prove you were there.

(Who needs a receipt?)

Charles Simic: The World Doesn't End

(untitled, page 5)

I was stolen by the gypsies. My parents stole me right back. Then the gypsies stole me again. This went on for some time. One minute I was in the caravan suckling the dark teat of my new mother, the next I sat at the long dining room table eating my breakfast with a silver spoon.

It was the first day of spring. One of my fathers was singing in the bathtub; the other was painting a live sparrow the colors of a tropical bird.

Poets.org: Charles Simic

spencer tunick

A few years ago I came very close to posing for spencer tunick. The event was within driving distance in Cleveland, Ohio. I signed up online. I tried to talk my friends and colleagues into joining me. At the last minute, with no trusted sidekick, and cold weather on the horizon, I wimped out. A pity. Tunick images trip my synapses. Check him out.

The Unofficial Tunick Page

Tunick's Web Page
sign up for the next event!

Saturday Morning Cereal: Marianne Moore

"If something is appropriate, I appropriate it."
Moore quoted by Rotella as transcribed in my lecture notes, Oct. 10, 2007

"his by- / play was more terrible in its effectiveness / than the fiercest frontal attack."
from Moore's "In This Age of Hard Trying, Nonchalance is Good And"

"Reserve is a concomitant of intense feeling."
Moore quoted by Rotella as transcribed in my lecture notes, Oct. 10, 2007

"There is a great amount of poetry in unconscious / fastidiousness."
from Moore's "Critics and Connoisseurs"

"What is / there in being able / to say that one has dominated the stream in an attitude of self-defense; / in proving that one has had the experience / of carrying a stick?"
from Moore's "Critics and Connoisseurs"

Literature is a phase of life. If one is afraid of it, / the situation is irremediable; if one approaches it familiarly, / what one says of it is worthless."
from Moore's "Picking and Choosing"

"To have misapprehended the matter is to have confessed that one has not looked far enough. "
from Moore's "England"

"It comes to this: of whatever sort it is / it must be "lit with piercing glances into the life of things"; / it must acknowledge the spiritual forces which have made it."
from Moore's "When I Buy Pictures"

"it is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing"
from Moore's "A Grave"

"But why dissect destiny with instruments / more highly specialized than components of destiny itself?"
from Moore's "Those Various Scalpels"

"The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease. / Distaste which takes no credit to itself is best."
from Moore's "Snakes, Mongooses, Snake-Charmers, and the Like"