Mrs. Dalloway's Coffee Break

I was standing at the counter of my local record store, basically monopolizing the entire table as well as the attention of my favorite salesperson. He is my peer and has manned the counter for as long as I have been shopping there, so we practically have the same profession. He also has the whole High Fidelity-Rob Gordon-Championship Vinyl Owner -vibe about him, without the superiority complex or the raging fits, that I know of, and since Nick Hornby’s modern classic is one of my favorite books, I always look for signs that the story in the book is all true, and therefore notice such things. I had come down to check out birthday gift possibilities for my girl Roberts, and let’s face it, when at a record store, you don’t just get the one record and leave. So, the man was doing his best to help me out. “So, I mean what do you have in CD format?” “Oh, I have a bunch of stuff here, in the Used section. Let’s see now.” I waited, all my stuff spread across the counter, whi...

A friend of mine started a challenge on Instagram. It has to do with our everyday green acts, the little things we can all do and should do to ease the burden of this pretty plane of ours so that our legacy to the next generations won’t be a re-enactment of the Nebuchadnezzar ride outside the Matrix. An old workmate of mine, back from when I was working in another town, was, and still is, an eco-terrorist, as he himself liked to describe himself back then, and concern over ecological matters was a mutual thing for us. Nearing some election or another, when discussing parties and who to vote, I still remember what he said in the conversation as we were all hanging out behind the counter because of the five p.m. lull. “The thing is, if the planet goes, no one is going to be left standing to argue with anybody about anything.” For some reason, perhaps because we both tend to vote for the same party, the line has stuck with me, and there may have even been an occasion where I myself...

This is how I mark my dance exercises, post-practice, in my calendar. It’s a song title, by an amazing Israeli electro singer/songwriter, Noga Erez, whose politically charged music I have been working out to on and off for I think about a year now. If she is still a stranger to you, check out her stuff. Its jaw-droppingly gorgeous, avant-garde wall of sound and her distinct, alto singing voice makes you want to burst into movement immediately when you do. On that note, I have been called away for the last coupla months, so the writing has been a bit more intermittent than before. When I started this blog, I made a promise to myself that it would be for the writing and the stories, first and foremost, and I would never apologize for or lament if longer intervals happened between entries. So, not apologizing, exactly, but just acknowledging here that I get it, you say it’s my fault, yeah ok I get it, you ain’t pick up your calls, I’m like Forget it, to paraphrase Kanye West here....

At first glance one might get the idea that preparing Cacio e Pepe is very simple indeed. And it is simple enough, when you know what the hell you are doing. Alas, in the world of pasta, timing is everything, so there are, in the wise words of Mickey Rourke, at least fifty different ways to screw it up even if you are a genius. Of course, Mr. Rourke is referring to WARNING CONTAINS SPOILERS killing a man and making it look like arson, in Body Heat. But the same rule, people, applies here. Cooking some legendary pasta that actually turns out well is totally comparable to getting away with murder. After years of perfecting my pasta cooking abilities, I have finally started tackling the classics. Cacio e Pepe seemed simple enough, at first, but I overlooked the simple yet elegant concept of beginner’s luck when I first made it. I was so over the moon getting it right, when most recipes came with some words of warning that went along the lines of "Yes, it does seem like the ea...