Thursday, June 30, 2011

Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

Like this, but worse, and not just in primary colors

Today was a pile of suck.

I hate that Tony has cancer, and that the chemo and radiation makes him so strangely fragile. He is a beast, but he is being slain by this poison. And there is nothing I can do about it.

Also, there were other things. I don't want to go into it. Suffice it to say, tomorrow, you are preemptively on notice. If you are anything like today, I will see to it that you are fucked in the ass with a cantaloupe.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Catty Bitch

Gratutitous Cat Shot
Sometimes, I am such a catty fucking bitch.* I get into one of these moods, and it is like the evil stepsister in me rears its ugly head and devours villages. I just can't help myself. Snide comments and rude insults present themselves to me. I don't even have to think of them, they just pour out of my brain.

And when I get in one of these moods, I try not to say all the things that I want to say. I try to keep them in, because in reality, I am not a cruel witch. But the things are in my head regardless, all of those pointed comments, like a prickly cactus garden.

I think it usually stems from one tragic flaw in myself and one major fault in others: my impatience and others' manipulative behavior. I really, really, really hate manipulative people. My mom is the Queen of Manipulation, and having suffered under her regime for years, I bristle when I stumble upon controlling people in the wild world.

And I have almost zero patience for those who use manipulation to get their way. I know that I should be gracious to them, that they probably have a host of personal and psychological problems that have created this monster manipulator, but I just can't do it. It pisses me off that they think I'm so stupid I won't see through their attempts to control my mind. I mean, at least if you're going to try to assert your will over my own, do it in such a way that I feel like I'm doing it for my own sake, not because of your cheap attempts at manipulation.

HMPH. Anyway, I am just holding my tongue over here.

*Isn't the phrase "catty bitch" kind of oxymoronic?

Sometime After Midnight

Crowding my head
Like drunks at a ball game
And all of the things in between.

It's usually after midnight
That my fancy takes flight
Refusing to sit tight
Preferring not to act right

And that's when I wonder
Lay awake to ponder
The path that I'm on
And the one I could be on

This or that
Here or there
Now or never

But we all know that
It's not a path
It's a moving walkway
And there's no way to get off.

Monday, June 27, 2011

Shitshow Kitchen: German Chocolate Cake Extras

OK. You should already have finished a cake of some sort, unless you are a straight-up hedonist just eating the filling and frosting by themselves or mixed into ice cream which, I am not going to lie to you, would be amazing.

Here's how you make the filling and frosting for my version of German Chocolate Cake.

Coconut Caramel Pecan filling
4 large egg yolks
One 12-ounce can evaporated milk
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 1/3 cups sweetened shredded coconut
1 1/2 cups finely chopped pecans, toasted
1 shot rum

Put the pecans on a cookie sheet and toast them in a 350 degree oven for about seven minutes. SET A TIMER THEY WILL BURN and pecans are expensive, yo. I usually start this while the oven is heating for the cake. For real, no more than seven minutes. MANY a time have I had to throw out a blackened mess of them and light candles to hide the smell.

We are nuts. Teehee.

While you're waiting for the pecans, get out the pan for the filling. I searched for mine for like ten minutes, then found it in the fridge full of rice from the other night. DAMMIT. Wash it, put it on the stove. Measure out your sugars and butter.
These are like magic beans... sugar and butter make anything spectacular.

Put the coconut in a kind of largish/medium bowl.
It's like angel pubes

Separate your eggs (I do it in my hand) and put the yolks in a saucepan.
Hands are the best egg-strainers ever
 Whisk them up and add the evaporated milk, whisking it all together.
That's right, I use NAME BRAND evaporated milk, bitches
Then throw the sugars, salt, and butter in and turn the heat on to medium.
Pre-whisk action

Whisk it up. Once the butter is getting melty, start whisking until it boils. You can kind of casually do this, like I got my dishes washed while I was doing it without burning it. But... beware. It can burn to the bottom of the pan and then you are fucked.
C'est parfait

OK. When it starts to boil, turn off the heat, and throw in the vanilla and rum. If you're taking it to an AA meeting or something, you can skip the rum. It will bubble up ALOT, it's ok. Then pour it into a bowl with the coconut and set it aside to cool.
Resist eating it all right now. RESIST!!

Stir the pecans into the coconut stuff right before you fill the cakes.

Chocolate Ganache Frosting
12 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped
2 ½ tablespoons light corn syrup
2 ounces unsalted butter
1 ½ cups heavy cream

I use Gihrardelli 60% cacao chips and a little unsweetened chocolate.
Use quality chocolate or you will be sorry.

Throw the cream and butter into a pan, and heat it until it starts to boil.
Fat and more fat
Once it's boiling, throw it into a bowl with the chocolate and corn syrup.
This is where the magic happens.
Immediately stir it until it's all smooth and looks something like this.
Heaven in a bowl
Let the coconut-pecan filling cool at least two hours (or until room temperature). Leave the chocolate ganache out until you frost the cake (put plastic wrap on it if it will be overnight).

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Shitshow Kitchen: Buttermilk Chocolate Cake

So I realize I didn't include a recipe for my lasagna last time. I am going to edit it in. In the meantime, here's the cake I made yesterday. OMNOMNOM. It is kind of my signature cake, in that once someone tastes it, they ask for it for any/all holidays.

OK! Here is the recipe:

Chocolate Buttermilk Cake

3 C flour
2 1/2 C sugar
1 1/2 T baking soda
1/2 t salt
1 C unsweetened cocoa powder
1 1/3 C vegetable oil
1 1/2 C buttermilk
3 eggs
1 1/2 C hot coffee
1 T vanilla extract

Grease two 9" cake pans, line them with wax paper, grease again, then dust with cocoa powder (flour will show up on your cake). Get cocoa powder everywhere. Swear. Turn oven to 350.
The pans are not dirty, they are READY.

Put the dry stuff together and mix it up a little.
Dry stuff
Realize you have no coffee brewed. Brew coffee. Putz around while coffee brews.

Brief interlude

OK, the coffee should be done. Moving on. Add the buttermilk and oil, then mixalot.
Baby got back
Add the eggs one at a time, beating just enough to incorporate them and scraping down the bowl between.
Eggs are photogenic

Then add the coffee and vanilla. It will be super runny and sloppy, so turn your mixer on REALLY LOW at first, or you will regret it during cleanup. Actually, just mix it in on low.
Slow looks fast on film! MAGIC!

Pour into your pans, pop into the oven, set the timer for like 28 minutes (it should take 30-35).

Slightly fucked-up looking DELICIOUS cake
My cake looks a little fucked up because of the buttermilk powder I used in place of real buttermilk, which kind of did not dissolve properly. I think it may have been not necessarily "in date" still. Um, don't tell anyone.

Let the cakes cool about ten minutes in the pan, then invert them onto wire racks. There is an easy trick for doing this but this post is already a mile long, so if anyone wants it, ask in the comments and I will oblige.

Fuck yes.
Congratulations, Cake Champion Achievement unlocked.

I will post the filling/frosting part later...Mmmm, German Chocolate Cake.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Adult Stuff

Age is a funny thing.

It is weird to actually start feeling as though you're older, wiser, more of an adult. And it's little things that set it off. My Dad running around dating my mom's friends, flying them to see shows in different cities just because he can. My mom flipping out that my 28-year-old brother is HAVING SEX!! with his girlfriend of two years.

I feel more adult than my parents. Like I can step back from this situation right now and say, "Hey, family, you are crazy. I see that now. And all the things I thought were normal when I was little? It was really fucked up for you to teach me that was normal."

I thought it was perfectly acceptable to be arrested and thrown in jail because of political protests I did when I was TWELVE years old. And it was my mom, telling us that this is what we were SUPPOSED to do, that we were right, and the other people were going to hell for everything they did. So she let us get arrested and thrown in jail. And not just once! I lost count of how many times I was arrested as a minor. It was probably over 20 times.

We usually got arrested with other kids, too. We'd all get thrown into juvie for a few hours, until our parents (or the random person our parents had signed custody to for the day, since they were also getting arrested) came to get us. Sometimes they'd just put us in the holding tank at the regular jail with other adults who'd been arrested. Crackheads, parole violators, shoplifters, prostitutes, drunks.

And I thought that was NORMAL. Like, that it was just how the world was, that I, as a child, had to go to jail all the time to show God that I was serious about being on his side or something.

One time we were in Washington, DC, and my mom got arrested in a lock-in at a US Senator's office. Me and about six other kids just bummed around DC all day waiting for our parents to get out of jail. We slept in the hotel room that night with the DOOR OPEN because it was hot. In the fucking murder capital of America.

I never really thought about some of this stuff until recently. Just how fucked it all was. What could have happened to us! What the FUCK were our parents thinking? For real. WHAT. THE. FUCK. I mean, I know my dad was working and not really paying attention to anything, until my mom got locked up for 60 days or something. And since we were being homeschooled, I had to homeschool my brothers. I think I was 14 when that happened.

I dunno, man. I just feel old. Maybe God was protecting me that whole time. I can't believe my parents would put me in that position. I would NEVER do that to my kid. I know that everyone in the world is basically just waiting to rape kids. OK, that might be a slight exaggeration, but still. I am going to do anything that I can do to give him a fun-filled life with a bare minimum of danger. LIKE AN ADULT.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Just Wondering.

What is up with those foil-covered chocolates that taste more like wax than chocolate?

Why do people always assume that if it is sunny outside, those of us indoors are ABSOLUTELY DYING to be outside?

Why do some people treat those of us in the service industries as though we are machines or slaves?

Why is it that we are always attracted to rebels?

Why MUST we pop bubblewrap when we encounter it, like a compulsion?

Why do we have an adverse reaction to certain smells which are not inherently harmful, like farts or sulphur?


Why is Clusterfluff ice cream so effing delicious?

Why is it that as soon as you decide to exercise, you are completely overcome with the desire to take a nap?

The Few, The Proud

Overeager and underprepared
Too excited to experience
All the things!
Even though all includes some
Like distaste, disaffection, and disgust.
And I am the object, never the actor.
It must be that
eagerness and zeal
that bright-eyed optimism
Is reserved for those
Who can defend their rights to it.

It's not for everyone.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Underpromise, overdeliver!

So, I promised a lot of things. EVEN ALOT OF THINGS. Yesterday. Such as a GREAT POST! And PICTURES! And some sort of pigeon pun what was that even....

Anyway. I am only here to tell you that the day is about to come to a close, and unless I can pull some sort of angora bunny out of my ass, there is not going to be even one of those things in this post. WAIT A SECOND...


Yeah, I test liquor.

Our wine cellar, circa two days ago
What. The. Fuck. Claw Machine, you have got to be kidding me.

Yeah, we got that cow. AND ALL HER FRIENDS.

Best album since Relapse. And yes, we got that many. To give to friends.

Twinkies don't kill people. Twinkies with guns kill people.

OK. I hope this sates you all for a while. Or at least until tomorrow.

Welcome to the Family

You know, this journal is important to me. But most of the time, I leave it to the absolute last moment of my day, when I am completely wiped out from the rest of my day, and have zero time to do a thing with it. Then I throw something inconsequential its way, like a song or a drawing or someone else's poem.

WTF, me. I am starting to treat this thing like family.

Why is it, anyway, that we abuse family like that? Is it that we are comfortable with them seeing us as we are, or is it that we know they'll be there, regardless?

We should all give our families more respect than that. Well, at least, if they return the favor.

Preemptively.  Otherwise it might be a waste of time AND a bother.

Regardless, I shall honor you, my webtastic family, with a REAL LIVE POST tomorrow. About THINGS! With VISUAL AIDS! Accompanied, potentially, by POETRY! And maybe a release of WILD DOVES! Or maybe not the doves. Maybe... a description of a dove? No, there is no way I am doing that. How about... a passing mention of a dove. NO! A DOVE PUN!!! Or at least some sort of pun.

OK, let's just cut this loose with a general GOODNIGHT. Sleep with the fishes!

Or don't. Whichever.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Bad Meets Evil's Hell: The Sequel

This is basically why I haven't posted much in the last few days... or done ANY WORK on that fucking project that is due Monday. I've been listening to this album on loop, too absorbed to accomplish other things when it's playing.

It's a thing of beauty. Go buy it.

Friday, June 17, 2011

What She Said

"What She Said" by Billy Collins, from Horoscopes for the Dead. © Random House, 2011. (buy now
(via The Writer's Almanac)

When he told me he expected me to pay for dinner,
I was like give me a break.

I was not the exact equivalent of give me a break.
I was just similar to give me a break.

As I said, I was like give me a break.

I would love to tell you
how I was able to resemble give me a break
without actually being identical to give me a break,

but all I can say is that I sensed
a similarity between me and give me a break.

And that was close enough
at that point in the evening

even if it meant I would fall short
of standing up from the table and screaming
give me a break,

for God's sake will you please give me a break?!

No, for that moment
with the rain streaking the restaurant windows
and the waiter approaching,

I felt the most I could be was like

to a certain degree

give me a break.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Shitshow Kitchen: Lasagna

Lasagna is one of the best things you can put in your belly. This is how you can make it. Roughly. And do I mean ROUGHLY MAKE IT or MAKE IT, ROUGHLY?? You will never know.

Take a quarter pound of pancetta and kind of mince it. Throw it in the bottom of the big pot and turn it on to lowish. Then get out 5 carrots and 5 celery stalks and one onion, wash them off, and start chopping. You have to have everything cut to a relatively similar size so it all cooks at a similar rate. Cut the onion last, because it will make you cry no matter what you do to avoid that, and you will not be able to chop with precision afterwards.
Everything is diced neatly except the onions, because I was bawling.

This will take FOREVER. You should stir the pancetta a couple times in here or it will get gross. Throw the veggies into the pot with a glug of olive oil so it doesn't stick. If you got more pancetta than me, because I am poor and only got a tenth of a pound, you may not need to use much oil. Turn the heat up to medium or so. Medium lowish. Sweat/cook the veggies until they're kind of translucentish.

Take the beef and throw it in a bowl. Take the sausages and split open the casings, then throw them into the meat bowl. Realize that the sausage skins are just a pile of intestines. Gross. Take a picture.

For real. Guts. Gross.
Mix the sausage and beef together with your hand. YAAY MESSY! This is like the adult version of playdough. You can use half veal half beef, which is what you are supposed to do, but veal is also really expensive and I could not afford it so I didn't. I think it tastes better, but it is also like ten bucks more. I did two pounds COW MEAT, one pound PIG MEAT (Italian sausage).

Tasty meats

OK. the veggies should be good now. Try a carrot. if it is still crunchy, cook them longer. The carrot should be firm but not like a fresh one. I hope this explanation makes sense. It is pretty subjective. When they're good, shove all the veggies to the side. This is where I forgot to put in the garlic, and where you should remember. Cook it like a minute or so. Don't let it get more than tan or it will be bitter. Then mix it into the veggies, shove them all aside, and throw the meat in. We want veggie/meat segregation until the meat is cooked.

The meat will be like a giant pillow. Kind of stab at it with your wooden spoon so it has vents to the bottom. It will basically steam/cook. Wait a few minutes, then flip the done part to the top. Do this a few times, until the meat is about a third done. Then start breaking it up so it's not one huge pillow of meat by punching the wooden spoon into the pan like you would poke someone if you wanted it to hurt, then kind of flip it around.

Realize you do not have wine for the next step. Search for wine. Find a bottle of dubious distinction. Put it in freezer to chill it faster because you need a glass of it.

When the meat's more or less totally brownish, you can mix the veggies back in. (This is where I made a little well because I forgot the garlic. I threw the garlic onto that hot spot and let it cook a little before realizing that was a terrible idea but fuck it, it's done now. I just mixed in the uncookedish garlic and figured it's going to cook for a long time anyway, maybe it will taste better this way.)

Pour in like two cups of milk. For real. The milk does something sciency to the meat. Mix it all together and let it cook for a while. You can clean up some of your mess because it might take a bit. The milk needs to kind of cook down to almost nothing.

Check the wine you put in the freezer. It is not done yet.

Clean. Do other things. Check the meat. Most of the milk should be gone. There is still juice and fat. Check the wine. Pour a glass.
I aimed the label away so as not to embarrass the "vintners."
You are not supposed to cook with wine you wouldn't drink out of the bottle. This stuff is crap. But I don't have anything else so IN IT GOES! About a cup and a half. Turn up the heat. You want to get all of this evaporated before you put in the tomatoes.

God that wine is really gross. Try it again.

OK. The wine is disgusting.

When the wine evaporates, add one can of tomato paste and two cans of diced or whole tomatoes. I only had crushed tomatoes so I used those. The jury is out on whether or not I fucked it over doing that. Also, I thought I should add another half can of tomato paste, and then forgot I was only adding a half, so I added a whole one.

Pinkish sauce. It should look kind of thisish.
So after that photo I added my tomatoes, and now my sauce is now looking really tomatoey. Like, way redder and thicker than yours should. I am hoping it's not totally ruined.

Now let it cook for like an hour. Come check it around 30 minutes and give it a stir. Then let it cook for...ever. Like three hours. Then stir in a few dollops of cream, maybe like half a cup? and about a tablespoon each of crushed rosemary, basil, and oregano. And maybe a teaspoon of salt. Stir it up, put the lid on, take it off the heat, and let it cool.

THE NEXT DAY. Or later on the same day, if you are INSANELY AMBITIOUS and maybe Martha Stewart.

Boil a whole thing of lasagna noodles. While the noodles are boiling, mix together in a bowl a big container of small-curd cottage cheese, about 6ish ounces of parmesan (grind it in your food processor if you get a chunk, it is not worth grating), about four handfuls of shredded mozzarella, and a big handful of chopped Italian parsley. I also threw in some extra "Italian Cheese" shredded stuff I had laying around. And I might have put in a few Domino's parmesan packets because I was afraid I didn't have enough parm. If you are going only on Domino's packets, you will need about 50 of them.

Cows make cheese.
OK, when the noodles are done, drain them and toss them with a little oil or they will all stick together into a noodly lump and you will be fucked.

Put a little tomato sauce on the bottom of a rectangle pan. Then noodles, sauce, cheese, noodles, sauce, cheese, noodles. Then some shredded mozz and a sprinkling of parsley on top.

Is anyone reading these captions?
 You should have enough for two lasagnas. Freeze one for later. Cover the other one with aluminum foil and put it in the oven at 350. It will take forever, like 45 minutes. Take off the foil and cook another 15 or so, until it's done.


Eat with garlic bread.
So worth it.


Sunday, June 12, 2011


I kind of feel like I may have already entitled an entry here "Procrastination," but I am too lazy to check.

I am currently putting off a deadline. I was recently hired on as a contract grant writer by a national corporation. I used to be the boss of the girl who hired me. I was thinking, "Hey! It will be fun to feel like a productive member of society again! To be doing work that requires skill, and thinking, and writing! To get PAID! IN REAL MONEY! To feel like your job is somewhat respectable!"

GOD was I wrong. I hate work. I hate working. Except now I have committed to it, and have to do it. And I have a deadline, and it is just HANGING over my head. Like the sword of Damocles. That's the one I'm thinking of, right? Damocles? Anyway, it is like a sharp sword. Over my head. About to drop. On the 20th.

And even though I spent the last countless weeks out of my mind with boredom, I now have a million and eleventy things that I MUST do before I write this project. Just because I am putting it off. UGH and the more I put it off the heavier it weighs on my mind, until it is like an Escalade sitting on my shoulders.

I have a whole entire day off tomorrow, but instead of starting/working on/finishing the grant, I will undoubtedly make bolognese sauce all day, then construct a perfect lasagna in the evening.

Because that is what respectable, employed, white-collar contract writers DO.

Like a motherfucking ADULT.

Instance the First

In which I post inebriated, yet manage to spell all the words correctly, and even use the adverb "correctly" in place of the adjective "right".

Also, in which I excuse my pseudo-drunkenness (which is not really drunkenness, as we all know that involves spelling errors and gross judgment indiscretion) with "heavy life stuff," and leave that stoner term just dangling for the loosest interpretation available.

Lastly, in which you excuse me anyway, even though my excuse is lame, my post is lamer, and my inability to post drunken booby pics is lamest. BUT I DO NOT POST WEINERGATE STUFF! Don't you know I'm going to be pope some day?

AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaah, there it is. The grossly inappropriate comment that forces me to say,


Friday, June 10, 2011

Everything is Fine

I know, I missed another day.

It was a really bad day.

Tony is very sick. We are not quite sure how sick, but we know it is cancer sick. And it looks like it is all-through-his-body-and-on-all-of-his-organs cancer. But we will know for sure next week.

Last night we all got together to ignore it.

Me, Tony, Dust, and Gus

Reese's S'mores are Heaven

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Answer to Prayer

It can't work that way, dear.
You can't make the call.
If you did, we'd be angels,
with a penchant for fall--
The time of the year
That ages with grace
The bright golden trees
and the lines on your face.

But winter will come
and it's just too cold, dear.
The lambs will out-spring us.
In summer, we'll wilt.
There's no fun in dragging
yourself through all that.


If good things never came to an end,
we would never meet again.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

How to Write a Blog Post

1. Post a teaser
This is important, as it will spur you on to write later out of fear that you will let everyone down. Fear and guilt are the biggest motivators in posting. Well, that and having a really shitty day. Maybe put a photo in your teaser. Or a drawing.

2. Think of a topic
This is one of the hardest parts of writing your blog post. There are so many millions of things you can write about! Your cat! Your breakfast! The way the light looks outside your window! Your shitty ass car! Politics! Religion! Wait-- those last two are a terrible idea. Point is, there are alot of things you CAN write about. You should find something to write about that is entertaining. Something that will feed your creative fire. Usually, this involves something you hate or something you love. For most people, dogs or cats are the topic of choice, depending on what kind of person you are.

3. Figure out what you want to say
You have a topic! Now you need to say something about it. Preferably something entertaining, funny, educational, and/or well-written. If you can't think of anything that fits these descriptors, you are some sort of mutant borg because everyone can find something to say about things they love/hate. Maybe you are a lizard person. Switch your topic to snakes. Better?

4. Write!
This is the part where you try not to get distracted by webcomics, forwarded emails, forums, and facebook. This is THE HARDEST PART. If you make it through the writing part, you probably deserve a beer and a pizza. BUT NOT UNTIL YOU DO STEP #5. THIS IS CRITICAL. Also, if you can only write a little bit, or are maybe thinking this is not the best writing you've ever done, pad that post with a picture, song, or a graph. Everyone loves graphs. If you have to add more than one of these elements, you have probably failed and should go back to point #2 again.

5. Post
If you forget to do this before your beer and pizza, you are fucked.

6. Wait for people to comment
This takes forever, wears out your F5 key, and makes you feel completely unloved. It is best if you just do this while eating the pizza and drinking the beer and going back to those sites I told you not to visit when you were supposed to be writing.



More to Come

I know, I have sucked posting the last few days. This is just a teaser for an EPIC POST to be put up later today, with PICTURES and WORDS and GRAPHS!!! And it will be JUST the right length, not too long, not too short. And FUNNY! AND BRILLIANT! After you read it you will weep tears of joy and see the crystallized truth at your own core, and your life will be changed forever.

Or like I said, pictures and graphs and inconsequential bullshit.


Sunday, June 5, 2011

Stream of Consciousness

So while taking a bath today, as I am wont to do at basically any given moment, I googled the tub maker just for the fuck of it.

Turns out my bath tub cost almost as much as my car. Whoever put it in was not joking around. It was imported from a designing house in Paris.

It is weird to own such a nice thing.


My friend Kaleb took one look around our basically empty house and said, "Well, if anyone else ever came in here, they would think you guys were squatters."

It's true, we are basically just camping indoors. I feel like an interloper sometimes. Like the only place I belong is the basement, where we have a couch and a few old love seats huddled around the TV.


The fam is kind of driving me mad. My dad pseudo-divorced his pseudo-wife of three months and is now trying to date one of my mom's friends. My brother is being hired by some embassy. My sister-in-law is having a baby. The kid asked me what masturbating was today.


I am trying to eat healthy, but so help me God, if I do not eat something other than chicken and peppers and oatmeal tomorrow I may shoot up my neighborhood.


My Kindle is living up to its name by warming my heart.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Wild Thyme Unseen

For the Kindle Whisperer
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.


But to apprehend
The point of intersection of the timeless
With time, is an occupation for the saint—
No occupation either, but something given
And taken, in a lifetime's death in love,
Ardour and selflessness and self-surrender.
For most of us, there is only the unattended
Moment, the moment in and out of time,
The distraction fit, lost in a shaft of sunlight,
The wild thyme unseen, or the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses,
Hints followed by guesses; and the rest
Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action.

excerpted from "East Coker" and "The Dry Salvages," the second and third of Eliot's Four Quartets

Wednesday, June 1, 2011