the sourcerer: Truth.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Truth.

If one more person had to say to me: WHAT? You haven't been to Truth yet? So I went along this morning and had a flat white - self-service only and this includes all-pervading inertia.

While I drank my lukewarm coffee, I cast a glance at my stars of the day and they hinted at discord, lost friendship, jealousy... just more of your run-of-the-mill bad blood stuff. Not having much time, I mentioned the tepidity as I left, only to be met with more shoulder-shrugging torpidity. All of this entertainment at twenty bucks only. Oh well. The names of the coffee blends are appealing: Resurrection, Vengeance, Antithesis and Donde's Chaos, but my caffeine-addled heart remains true to Giovanni's.

On a much lighter note: when last did you see a vegetable so fresh, it's leafy crown all perky, the whole thing dewy and delicious? My friends harvested radishes in the garden this morning.

(This photo courtesy of The Architect)

It's making me excited about the garden I'll have when I move next month. Dreaming of carrots and pea tendrils...

3 comments:

ckzero said...: tepidity met by torpidity

tut tut

tata truth; August 16, 2010 at 5:19 PM
Anonymous said...: if turnips don't have to shit, shave and shower . . I think I'll be turnip . . . not a pebble. Maybe, call myself Lilly Turnip??; August 16, 2010 at 5:28 PM
the sourcerer said...: Dear Not-So-Anonymous :-)
I would imagine Drs. Ismail & Maama Nambi would have no problem to turn you into a turnip. (probably easier than a pebble) But turnips have beardy bits too...; August 16, 2010 at 5:38 PM

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You could tend a garden at night, only at night, pouring dark water onto leaves, and into the earth, like pouring midnight onto midnight. You could hold your soil-stained hands up to the moon. The stars would gleam on the bottom of the shovel. It would smell the same as a daytime garden - it would smell green, violet, red, white. But come back, in daylight. Come back, to see the colours without closing your eyes.
- Sean Michaels. Accompaniment to the song "Immune" by LOW. Said the Gramophone

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don't bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: "It's not where you take things from - it's where you take them to."
Jim Jarmusch (1953- )

You got very hungry when you did not eat enough in Paris because all the bakery shops had such good things in the windows and people ate outside at tables on the sidewalk so that you saw and smelled the food. When you had given up journalism and were writing nothing that anyone in America would buy, explaining at home that you were lunching out with someone, the best place to go was the Luxembourg gardens where you smelled and saw nothing to eat all the way from the Place de l'Observatoire to the rue de Vaugirard. There you could always go into the Luxembourg museum and all the paintings were sharpened and clearer and more beautiful if you were belly-empty, hollow-hungry. I learned to understand Cézanne much better and to see truly how he made landscapes when I was hungry. I used to wonder if he were hungry too when he painted; but I thought possibly it was only that he had forgotten to eat. It was one of those unsound but illuminating thoughts you have when you have been sleepless or hungry. Later I thought that Cézanne was probably hungry in a different way.
Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) - from A Moveable Feast.