The Joy of Chopping, and Eating, the Rainbow

June 23rd, 2017

Happy Pride month!

Here’s a woman who has embraced her personal pastel rainbow. She’s a joy-bringer. And her purse/backpack collection is what would have happened to me if I’d inherited the shopping gene from my mother, which I did not.

However, I am not without rainbows. Just last night I was chopping add-ons for (vegan, natch) tacos, and here’s what happened:

Taco Fixins

Taco Fixins

Clockwise from the top: mangoes, red onion, purple cabbage, red pepper, avocado. There was salsa fresca, too, and I added Greek yogurt (instead of sour cream) (correct, not vegan) in beautiful dollops of white. So, so pretty.

This morning, a mere 14 hours later, I opened the refrigerator to find the following:

Mueslix Fruit

Mueslix Fruit

Fruit for mueslix. John had chopped it while I was sleeping. (That guy.) Clockwise from top: banana, strawberries, walnuts, grated apple, nectarine, figs, and blueberries. Soak 1/2 cup of oats in the milk of your choice (I used soy) and toss.

I don’t think I’ll ever tire of mincing ingredients, arranging them on a plate, and piling them on top of, or mixing them into, something yummy. Especially if they’re colorful.

I LOVE COLOR, AND I’M PROUD.

The Gifts of Art: May Edition

May 23rd, 2017

Of all the things I’ve been reading, listening to, and watching, here’s what moved me the most in the past month:

The Awkward Thoughts of W. Kamau Bell: Is there anyone more charming than W. Kamau Bell? Reading this book feels like sitting down with somebody who is not only smart and hilarious and feeling but kind and forgiving and connected*. I’d listen to what he has to say on any topic at all. Fortunately, there are many ways to do that, including multiple podcasts and one-offs and interviews. For what it’s worth, though, this book is my favorite iteration of Bell yet. It feels so eminently him.

*There’s an asterisk here, because Bell has said on more than one occasion (and he says in the book) that his amicability is in some ways an appeasement/apology for the fact that he’s a tall black guy. He’s trying to connect across race lines, and he’s excellent at that, and/but there’s a calculation in it that’s a response to racism, and that makes me wonder which parts of him we’re missing out on. I am in no way blaming him for using a tool that’s working. I’m sad for him and pissed at the world that he has to.

Manchester By the SeaEver since You Can Count on Me, which remains one of my favorite movies of all time, I’ve been in the tank for Kenneth Lonergan. I’d have been first in line to see Manchester in the theaters if it hadn’t been two hours long (back pain); I’ve been waiting for a streaming option, and it’s here; John and I watched as soon as we could. Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow. The layering on of the backstory is masterful. The emotional build is earned and real. The payoffs are quiet and delicate and spot-on. It’s all exactly as you would want it to be without having been able to imagine it until you’re seeing it. It was, in short, the best movie I’ve seen in an age—and contrary to what people said about its capacious sadness, I felt uplifted by it. It is undeniably sad, but it’s sad in a way that breaks you open, if you let it. And that, as we know, is when the light streams in.

Master of None, Season 2I know, I know, everybody loves it, but THAT IS BECAUSE IT IS BEAUTIFUL. In particular, the episodes “New York: I Love You” and “Thanksgiving” are ebullient and loving portraits of regular people of color having regular life experiences, with an undercurrent of compassion and Ansarian joy in the world. In fact, the whole season is infused with Ansari’s joy and wonder at living, from his adorable celebratory chants with Arnold (“Eating in Italy is my favorite thing!”) to the gorgeous wide shots of Italian and American exteriors (and interiors: heads up, Brooklyn Museum!), to the deliciously lugubrious music, to his pleasure at simple memes (“Allora”). And while some people seem disappointed or frustrated with the love story, I think Ansari, Yang, and team actually do a remarkable job at portraying a very specific and understandable and relatable kind of excruciation. I wish that the love interest hadn’t been yet another white woman (the season is otherwise solid at presenting women of color in romantic roles), but they were in Italy, so there is some justification for it.

I Am Not Your Negro: From end to end, this film is a scorching fire of righteousness, and it’s smarter and more beautiful and more gutting and decimating and enraging than anything I can possibly say about it, except just go see it and feel it and take it in. And then, perhaps, do some kind of thing that will inch us forward in some kind of way, especially in this era of rekindled white supremacy. They’re shouting things they used to whisper, and we need to step up and SURJ.

April Books and Movie

April 23rd, 2017

Four “highly recommendeds” for your springtime enjoyment (and dismay):

1.  Ghettoside, Jill Leovy. Gripping account not only of a particular murder and subsequent investigation in L.A. in 2007 but of a policing and criminal justice system that is deeply failing black people and especially black men. One of the big surprises of the book is the idea that poor communities of color are vastly underpoliced, not overpoliced; in South Central L.A. as in any community of any ethnicity in any country, underpolicing  creates a gap of lawless instability that gets filled in by a street code. Fascinating and horrifying.

2. Zadie Smith, Swing Time. Really engrossing novel that contains layers of racial, social, and psychological complexity in a story that never stops being fascinating. I love that we stay with one (unnamed) narrator throughout the novel. I love that the novel is more or less her internal monologue, tracing the various in ways in which her awareness dawns over time. I love that things keep turning slightly on their axes, so our perspective shifts and the view changes, and I love that the story has stayed with me.

3. O.J.: Made in America. Hoo-boy. Harrowing and haunting and humane. Despite its length, there’s plenty that got left out — a discussion of football-related traumatic brain injury, a more general look at domestic violence (the specifics of O.J’s violence against Nicole Brown are documented) — but what’s there is incredibly important and, to me, brought layers of contextual understanding to a story that I failed to grasp at the time. Had I not been watching with John (which slowed things down, given his limited tolerance for crime-related anything), I’d have binged it in one or two sittings and walked away in a daze of dark horror and grief.

4. Tim Kreider, We Learn Nothing. Incredibly smart, palpably felt, hilarious, and exceptionally perceptive personal essays on topics like friendship and politics and love, all of it examined with so much honesty and originality and integrity that I felt I was constantly waking up to things I might have known but had never named. In other words, it was a richly satisfying experience, and I was sorry it had to end. More, Tim Kreider, more! (Apparently, he cartooned relatively feverishly re: politics in the Bush era but hasn’t published much else by way of the personal essay. There’s a new book coming out in 2018, from its title I’m going to assume we’re staying with the less political and more personal.)

Kumbaya Felt Services #6

March 22nd, 2017

Bluey and Orangina name their favorite animals, go on a hunt for a pen, and discuss the meaning of an impressive word.

Kumbaya Felt Services #5

March 22nd, 2017

Bluey and Orangina attempt to figure out where they are, and why.

Kumbaya Felt Services #4

February 11th, 2017

In which Bluey and Orangina discuss travel, such as it is (and isn’t) in their lives.

Kumbaya Felt Services #3

February 11th, 2017

In which Bluey and Orangina discuss Orangina’s proclivity for jumping up and down.

Kumbaya Felt Services: #2

January 30th, 2017

Here’s the second. In this one, Bluey and Orangina discuss their favorite colors, the array of orangeness, and where warmth comes from. Then they sing Kumbaya.

We need to work on enunciation and volume, I know. We’ll do so in later installments. For now, just let it wash over you in calming joy.

Kumbaya Felt Services: Video #1

January 30th, 2017

This is one of the ways I intend to get through the foreseeable future:

Herein, Bluey and Orangina discuss what it’s like to live on a bed and smell food cooking in the other room. Then they sing Kumbaya.

It helped me to make it. I hope it helps you to watch it.

Amid the Chaos, Outrage, and Horror, Two Books

January 26th, 2017

I didn’t intend for it to be this way—I read what I read, when I read it, for somewhat arbitrary reasons—but each of these books throws some light on the current state of affairs:

1) Trainwreck, by Sady Doyle. Incredibly cogent feminist criticism, written in gorgeous sentences, with dark humor. What could be better than that?

I had wondered, before reading this book, whether its focus would be too narrow to bear meaningfully on the life of your average woman (i.e., moi), but Doyle is using celebrity “trainwrecks” as a lens through which to view misogyny in our entire culture, so . . . no. The answer is most definitely no. I loved every last page!

2) The Undoing Project, by Michael Lewis. There’s nobody better at spinning a chewy yarn (yes, mixed metaphor, unless you spin yarn made of . . . meat?) from a non-fiction phenomenon that’s influencing our lives without our knowing it. He’s doing it again here, and there are two fascinating lines of story: 1) the friendship between Amos Tversky and Danny Kahneman, and 2) the discoveries the two of them made about the inadequacies of the human mind. There are times when it feels like Lewis is overselling—there’s drama enough in the facts—but those are relatively few.

Ideally, a book like this would sow healthy seeds of doubt into certainty of any kind, on any position. We already know that certainty does not correlate with accuracy; now we can also know the specific ways in which our thinking fails us. That we seem to be moving farther and farther into a world of tyrannical bullying and bullying tyranny where government propaganda is issued almost hourly and believed by a portion of the populace . . . That is a sentence that today, I do not know how to end.

It’s my first post of the new year. In the coming months, I hope the human mind’s well-documented inability to predict the future proves 100% true. In other words, I’m seeing terrible things ahead, and I would love to be wrong.