You wanna see something REALLY scary?

I don’t love the Sci-Fi genre. If it has aliens or mutant species in it, my response is usually to break out in hives. How strange, then, that I can’t get enough of the SyFy series “Face Off.”

It’s in its third season, and, like reality shows of its kind (Project Runway, Work of Art), it adds a dimension of creativity to what would otherwise be an authorities-attracting demolition derby of awkward personality conflicts. Good thing about that artistic part.

We caught Episode One of Season Three last night, and learned during it that a sequel to The 300 is being made.

Conversation turned immediately (by me) to the character called Uber Immortal in said film, the original.

I really don’t get scared by anything in fictional films. I seek out and regularly watch gore and horror films (though torture porn is just stupid) without flinching or perspiring and without any disruption to my mandatory eight hours of sleep. (OK, Blair Witch Project turned me inside out for several days, but that’s a reasonable exception, given its façade of realism.)

That said, I responded to the Uber Immortal (at the theater) in a first date’s dream kind of way. He terrified me. When the brutality was all over, I found myself fetal-y shrunken in Ben’s lap.

What was that all about?! Special effects.

That was then, this is now.

I should have known at a young age that I would decide on a career in writing. As early as around nine or ten I was getting serious enough about my poetry that my parents bought me a small binder where I could lay down all my verses.

Dig it, man:

My grasp of tense, spelling, and meter would come later.

Oh, yeah? What were you doing in fourth grade?

In high school I pshawed geometry and detailed the story arcs of my daily dramas by way of The Note. As in: Psst…will you pass this three-page, double-sided, handwritten volume so thick it barely folds into quarters to Suzie? Thanks.

In my middle college years I evolved to keeping a diary. Susan Sontag’s journal reflections from yesterday's post reminded me of mine. Not in content, but in the fact that my notebook was also filled with words.

I was not creating art, I was simply vomiting on paper the nauseating truths of my life at that time. I remember moments when I was so frustrated and self-doubting that I would rewrite my memoirs in the way that I wanted them to be, not as they were.

Years later, when the sun started to shine on me with a regularity I could count on, I actually threw away those diaries. They embarrassed me, and I didn’t want the evidence of my human vulnerability to ever be the object anyone’s eyes; not even my own.

Shame. I'll bet there was some meaty stuff in there.

"Love is Flying"

Hi. I want you all to read this. It is better than anything I have to tell you on this day. Trust me. X

It’s a Steal.

A week or so ago Write in Color posted an article on the art of imitation. It contains some thoughtful inspiration for any type of artist, whether musical, visual, literary, theatrical, or expressive. 

  

My goal for writing every day is to improve. I have moments when I feel like I could become great at it, and others when the words I put up on the screen are as pedestrian as crossing the street. 

On those days of defeat I wonder if I don’t have the agility to “stand on the shoulders of the great artists.” But it is those times maybe that I need their balance to carry my weight.  

That’s what I am thinking about tonight. 

Mirror Moves.

In a commemorative gesture, I’ve picked back up David Rakoff’s book “Half Empty” after setting it aside only a few pages in nearly two years ago. I’m not sure why I pressed pause, but it can’t be because I was under-delighted. It’s a wonderful book filled with sinister cynicism, impossible prose, and joyless mirth. As I read, I am chewing every word slowly, knowing it is the last time I will dine on his delicious words. Did I say damnit? Because damnit. Really. 

My apologies to those with whom I’ve already shared this, but it’s not like this excerpt from the chapter titled “On Juicy” is less thoughtful the more you read it: "When I am being told, I listen, mindful of the honor, remembering all the while that the shore would be mistaken to believe that the waves lap up against him because he is so beautiful."

I am reminded, moreso in philosophical than literal terms, of this song and its inspired video:

In turn, I believe the song to be inspired by the writing of Zen Buddhist Dogen Zenji:

"Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water. The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. Although its light is wide and great, the moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide. The whole moon and the entire sky are reflected in dewdrops on the grass, or even in one drop of water.

Enlightenment does not divide you, just as the moon does not break the water. You cannot hinder enlightenment, just as a drop of water does not hinder the moon in the sky. The depth of the drop is the height of the moon. Each reflection, however long or short its duration, manifests the vastness of the dewdrop, and realizes the limitlessness of the moonlight in the sky."

-Dogen Zenji (1200 - 1253)

What do you think of that?

Some Like it Hot.

When I look at this week’s haul from the farmers’ market, I can only compare what I brought home to another pair of shoes. Gratuitous, unnecessary, and unlikely to be consumed to their imagined potential.

Last week I left with an excessive stash of poblano peppers, wondering what I would do with all of them. This week, in a moment of reckless imprudence, I added a quart each of cherry bomb, cayenne, and pimiento peppers to my growing pepper problem.

 

I’ll use a whopping two of them here, but, in the mean time, I’ll need to come up with some spicy ideas for the rest of the week. Hmmm.

Today’s recipe is for zesty meatloaf: the answer to what to make that would best complement my new, homemade ketchup. I accidentally forgot to add any salt, but it ended up not needing it, so don’t worry about it unless your sodium tooth is aching.

Here’s what you need:

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 medium poblano pepper, finely chopped

1 medium cherry bomb pepper, finely chopped

1 medium celery rib, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon of ground black pepper

½ teaspoon of Aleppo pepper

Olive oil to coat

1½   pounds ground sirloin

½ pound chorizo, ideally fresh from a butcher shop

1 cup Panko

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

⅓ cup of fresh ketchup plus an extra ⅓ cup for basting

2 tablespoons of fresh parsley, chopped

⅓ cup of cartoned egg whites* (or two whole eggs) *for those of us who don't desire extra eggs in our house

Here’s what to do:

Put the first eight ingredients in a medium skillet and sauté until cooked through. Stir in Worcestershire sauce and ⅓ cup of ketchup and cook an additional minute. Remove from heat and cool.  

Heat oven to 350°.

In a  large bowl, mix with your hands ground beef, Panko, and chorizo (remove casings, if necessary) until thoroughly combined. Stir in vegetable mixture, plus egg whites and parsley and knead with your hands to combine.

Form into a 6 x9” loaf and place in a medium, greased baking dish. Bake for 30 minutes, then coat with ⅓ cup of ketchup, and bake for another 40 or more minutes until browned and cooked through. Remove from heat and let sit for 10 minutes.

Slice and serve.