everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.

black bean, mushroom, and quinoa stuffed peppers!

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium onion (finely chopped)
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 2 cups, finely chopped mushrooms
• 1 tablespoon of chile powder
• 1 teaspoon of salt
• 1 (15 oz) can tomato sauce
• 1/4 cup water
• 1/2 cup quinoa
• 4 large bell peppers
• 1 (15 oz) can black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 teaspoon pure maple syrup
• fresh cilantro for garnish

saute onions in the olive oil 3-5 minutes.  add garlic and mushrooms.  stir in chile powder and salt.  add quinoa, water, and 1 cup of tomato sauce. simmer for 20 minutes.  preheat oven to 350 degrees.  cut tops off of peppers, boil for 5 minutes and drain.  combine beans and maple syrup with quinoa mix.  stuff peppers and pour remaining tomoato sauce over peppers.  bake 15 minutes. garnish with cilantro!

wooo, i have quinoa i need to use.

roasted butternut squash soup!

• 5 pounds butternut squash (about 3), peeled, bulbous part cut from the stem part, then each part sliced in half, seeds removed
• 4 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 medium-sized yellow onion, diced
• 1 serrano chile, chopped
• 1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 4 cups of vegetable stock
• 1 tablespoon maple syrup
• juice of 1 or 2 limes

preheat oven to 425 degrees.  coat the squash with 2 tbs of olive oil, bake for 40-45 minutes (cut side down).  meanwhile, saute onion with remaining olive oil, add the chiles, and lastly add the ginger, garlic, and salt.  puree squash in a blender or smush it (verb added!) with vegetable broth and onion mix.  return to heat, and add maple syrup and lime juice.

yum!

beet, barley, and black soybean soup with pumpernickel croutons!

found this is vegan with a vengeance at work today.  sounds yummy!

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 large onion, finely chopped
• 3 garlic cloves
• 2 teaspoons dried tarragon
• fresh black pepper to taste
• 8 cups of water
• 4 medium beets, peeled, cut in half, and sliced 1/4 inch
• 3/4 cup pearl barley
• 1/4 cup tamari
• 1 (15 oz) can black soybeans, rinsed and drained
• 2 tablespoons of balsamic vinegar
• 1/2 cup chopped fresh dill

over medium heat, saute the onion in the olive oil for 5 minutes.  add garlic, tarragon, pepper.  saute until fragrant.  add water, beets, barley, and tamari… bring to a boil.  lower the heat and simmer for 30 minutes.  add beans and simmer another 10 minutes… stir con frequencia.  add vinegar and dill.

serve with pumpernickel croutons:

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1/2 teaspoon dried tarragon
• 1/4 teaspoon of salt
• 4 slices of pumpernickel bread (dice into 1/4 inches)

coat bread chunks with other ingredients and toast 8-10 minutes at 400 degrees.

yo amo a björk!

We live on a mountain
Right at the top
There’s a beautiful view
From the top of the mountain
Every morning I walk towards the edge
And throw little things off
Like:
Car parts, bottles and cutlery
Or whatever I find lying around

It’s become a habit
A way
To start the day

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

It’s early morning
No one is awake
I’m back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow with my eyes ‘til they crash
Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks

When it lands
Will my eyes
Be closed or open?

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you 

my sexuality was not my own.

my unselfconscious innocence,

like, someone told me i was annie hall, 

like, la ti da,

it was not enough to make it through the day.

with a smile, i seem to walk the streets, ‘fuck me’ inscribed on my chest

it is written on my body.  my scars, my story, my sadness, my sexuality.

it is written on my body.  fuck me.  and i will smile and say thank you.

new poetry.

my daisy, my green light—

holding on to me, he held me, please hold me now!

focus, little girl, think hard: he will wait for no one 

and wants for nothing.  not even you.

stories are no use when you’re not with me

he laughs!  oh, what an aching

sweet sound.

i promised i would never be 

your cage darling

but i am choking here

gripping at throat full of words, full of stories, full up of my ugliness

lost lonely cold—it’s snowing

boy, we’d forgotten how to love or feel

but now, oh now, i’ll fly away

because we’re not dead yet.

left bank books staff pick, may 2009.

Falling Man, by Don DeLillo

“Faced with insufferable heat, smoke, and fire, and with no prospect for relief some jumped or fell from the building.” - text from “Heroism and Horror,” 9/11 Commission Report. p 287

Across the nation, as Americans began to live and breathe in the days after September 11^th, 2001, cultural dialogue abounded on the “too soon-ness” of laughter, sex, entertainment, and most importantly, discussions about why. Don DeLillo’s novel, Falling Man, grapples with an entire nation’s realization of living through a historical event—if not the historical event of the twenty-first century—the attacks on the World Trade Center towers in New York City. Through the central image of “falling man”—both a reference to the infamous photo featured on the cover of The New York Times on September 12th, 2001 and also a fictional performance artist who dangles from buildings and structures throughout New York in simulacra—DeLillo demonstrates the widespread sense of suspension or inability to process the terrorism. Falling Man embodies 9/11 as both a beginning (with a new era of terrorism and religious warfare) and an end (of the twentieth century, of the Cold War, and of American innocence). Throughout the novel, DeLillo repeats phrases, sentences, words over and over. It is as if he is scouring the past, searching through the debris at ground zero himself… trying to find something, to give meaning to something, to write meaning into the day. The story of September 11th, 2001 will always come full circle—back to that day, those moments, the dust, the carnage. It seems that DeLillo, conscious or subconsciously, rebukes the widespread racism that infected America post-9/11. Americans seem to use 9/11 as a legitimizing tool in enacting racism and violence against Muslim and Muslim-American populations (or anyone that appears to be such). As a result of this racism, any sort of legitimate discussion of the perspective of the terrorists seems impossible and un-patriotic. 9/11 is both a birth and a death. For some it was an awakening, and for others it closed their world to those around them. DeLillo refuses to define 9/11, but he does provide us with a story. From there, we can take that story and weave it into our accounts of where we were that day, our understandings of the terrorism, and the question: where do we go from here?