When localvore-ism wears thin
Mar. 31st, 2008 | 06:23 pm
And in a desperate fit of escapism, they found themselves in the critiquable position of being nauseated at the idea of eating local for even one more meal. Localvores turn into loco-vores when their passports haven't been stamped in a while, and at that moment, there was nothing in North America that could slake their thirst for the smell of that smoggy, tropical air that drapes over the shoulders, heavy with humidity, diesel particulates, and sticky papaya sweetness, outside metro stations in central Sao Paulo. In headphones, Tom Ze crooned a love-lorn yarn about the stops around Ave. Paulista: "Augusta, between you and Angelica, thank god I found Consolation." The corrosive saudade tasted a little bit wonderful in their mouths, but mostly it just made things worse. Barreling through just didn't seem possible that day.
Most likely, what happened next was that hours passed, and they went to the park--maybe the farmer's market was on that day. Maybe they got some baked goods from Amish country and ate, and maybe drank, and certainly slept, and the smell of spring in their natural habitat created enough instant nostalgia that they could get through another season. But while that was a perfectly reasonable response, reason seemed awfully tragic, and at least one of them surely googled recipes for aipim and vegan feijoada.
Most likely, what happened next was that hours passed, and they went to the park--maybe the farmer's market was on that day. Maybe they got some baked goods from Amish country and ate, and maybe drank, and certainly slept, and the smell of spring in their natural habitat created enough instant nostalgia that they could get through another season. But while that was a perfectly reasonable response, reason seemed awfully tragic, and at least one of them surely googled recipes for aipim and vegan feijoada.
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Metros i been on.
Aug. 11th, 2006 | 03:03 pm
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Road Trippin' for Art, Pt. 1: The Books
Jun. 4th, 2006 | 09:18 pm
"Most of all the world was a place where parts of wholes were described
In an overarching paradigm of clarity
And accuracy
The context of which makes possible an underlying sense of the way it all fits together
Despite our collective tendancy not to concieve of it as such"
I <3 LOVE <3 The Books. They make me feel like an unbodied floating head, and totally in love with everything and nothing in particular. Songs like this flood my noggin with all the best brain juices, and make me breathless and smart and on the verge of everything at once, including calm. I call it "Fluffy Belly Syndrome" and I give it away with a cottony urgency to anyone who seems in need or want.
So I bought one of their shirts and mod'ed it. :-)
( Road Trip! )
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An excersize in applied nostalgia
May. 4th, 2006 | 11:02 pm
Often during spring, I find myself pining for places I've been. The combined scent of warm weather and diesel exhaust reminds me of San Jose and Buenos Aires. The look of the tile in the elevator lobby at my data center reminds me of Mexico City and the Diego Rivera museum. Cobblestones and vintage brick make me yearn for London. But tonight at Colonial Pizza while picking up some 30oz's of lager, I got a feeling similar to the one I get when I remember Salvador, and eating acaraje...I had saudade--that linguistically elusive Portuguese phenomenon of bittersweet longing--for the smell of ketchup and fries, right in that very room.
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( Read more... )