Wednesday, November 22, 2006
A Pre-emptive Toast
...but how does one feel?
One grows used to the weather,
The landscape and that;
And the sublime comes down
To the spirit itself,
The spirit and space,
The empty spirit
In vacant space.
What wine does one drink?
What bread does one eat?
Excerpt from The American Sublime by Wallace Stevens
Kenneth Roxroth, listening to our conversations, said: "You don't know how to talk to each other, you just exchage monologues." He hit upon a trait of Central Europeans (not only Poles?). But we are aware of it and it makes us uneasy, for the personalline and the tribal line intersect here. Me? Or the civilization in whcih I was raised.
Monologues by Czeslaw Milosz
Excuse the glasses filled and soon to be held high above our heads. Preparations are in high gear and the weather is co-operating. It's been raining all day and the high winds have been whipping the hurtful droplets into our faces and into our clothes. The food items have all been plucked and parking dilemnas minimized. Everyone seems eager to get out of the weather and into the comfort of home, firing up the stoves, equipping the kids with potato peelers, colanders and newspapers. Turkey and chicken are washed and zested up. Pies appear from small piles of flour, nuts, or pudding-like pumpkin. Plates of salami and cheeses float around, islands of sinful nourishment to stoke the nighttime cooks.
I wish all you cooking tonight and tomorrow good cheer and may your burns be minimal but not so small that you couldn;t coax a conversation from them.
Labels: Holidays
Comments:
<< Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands
Loved your preemptive toast. I'm having one right now, before I go out and pluck all the items. The art, the poetry, the prose...a winning post all around. A toast to you as well.
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# opined by 
: 5:59 PM, November 22, 2006
: 5:59 PM, November 22, 2006 << Home Verging on Pertinence Just some more disposable thoughts clogging up the hinterlands
