28 February 2011

A Week in the Life of My Stomach

So late last night I had this lekker idea, stemming from the notion that people modify their behavior when on film and coupled with the by-gone zeal for self-experimentation that marked my college days[i].  Starting today {through Sunday} I intend to take a picture of everything I put into my body.  Think of it as an answer to the question “what did you eat!?”[ii]  The subtext to this is that, holding account of myself later on, I might be more likely to balance my meals to a photogenic nutritious sheen.  Insidious, no?  At the very least, it makes for an interesting activity!

[i] Including but not limited to such topics as ‘sleep deprivation,’ 'parallel universes,' ‘metabolization of {insert substance},’ and ‘the great flatulence archive.’
[ii] To paraphrase the initial reaction to our public unveiling of the aforementioned flatulence archive.  Imagine mixed shock and disdain, if you will.

25 February 2011

Oyster Sauce Whitefish {i.e. awesome!}

Preparation time:  about 20 minutes
Serves:  one

¾ cups rice (boiled in 1 cup water)
1 pollock (or similarly white fish) fillet, defrosted
half an onion
half a green and/or red pepper
a few mushrooms
2 tbsp. Oyster Sauce, 3 or 4 tbsp. soy sauce, and a teaspoon of sugar

Begin boiling your rice.  Chop up your veg and heat up a large pan with a little oil.  Begin frying your fish and onions (it shouldn’t take long) on MED-HI.  Meanwhile, mix up the sauces and sugar in a small bowl and microwave it for 20-30 seconds.  Add your mushrooms and peppers to the pan as the fish/onions near readiness, and mix them all up (the fish should fall apart in the process).  When satisfied (after a total fry time of ten minutes or so), turn the stove to LOW and add your sauce to the pan.  Let it percolate a bit until your rice is ready.  Plate up your rice and serve the fish et al over the top.  And enjoy!

23 February 2011

Toccata and Fugue in D{an} Minor

So I’ve given the blog a recent look-over; good gods[i], where has the time gone!?  It’s been a bit of a slurry, this month of February.  The Packers won the Super Bowl at some point, Egypt had its little revolution and Libya might yet have its; there were taxes to be done and driveways to shovel and bars to infrequent.   When it’s all said and done {such a baaaad cliché!} a lot has happened.  And yet!
I wake up tussled in blankets on a lopsided leather couch in my father’s basement; the flat light of mid-morning intrudes through the windows, now unburied as the drifts in the yard begin to recede.  I harken back to yesterday and try to place the current date.  Is it a Wednesday?  A Tuesday?  What time is it even?  As the tangled memory of my recent dreams rips away from my consciousness I flip open my laptop on the adjoining coffee table and semi-drowsily check my email.  Perhaps there’s a response to any number of job applications?  {the time is 9.37; not too bad}  None such.  In fact, all I’ve got to delete is a send-out from the monster.com chock-full of non-applicable openings from a smattering of uninteresting locales like.
Dismayed a tisch, I make a mental run-through of my morning to-be.  Slip into bathrobe.  Pocket one (1) clean pair underwear, one (1) clean shirt.  Urinate, brush teeth, and apply contacts in downstairs basement bathroom.  Collect scattered mugs and cups from basement underdwelling.  Bring dishes (3) to kitchen, prepare pot of coffee.  Admire birds on backyard feeder.  Take shower in ground-level superdwelling bathroom.  Dress and pocket one (1) pair sullied underwear.  Dole out coffee into a mug from day previous and sit on upstairs {taut corduroy} sofa.  Wonder what day it is, what year of what century, what planet.  It needn’t matter.  Every day is a Minot weekday morning in the Fugue.
I wonder if there’s anything to write; maybe a burst of inspiration will get scribbled down somewhere on a handy scrap of paper, to be filed away for future use.  Maybe not.  Perhaps I’ll instead enjoy the writings of others.  Or perhaps I’ll get back to the online scanning and buzzing and waiting out the job market, wishing it could somehow come out in newspaper-print form, complete with daily jumble.  Something palpable and friendly, like this coffee.

[i] I’m often inclined to exclaim things like ‘good God’ or ‘Heavens above,’ or the all-too-popular ‘God’s balls!’  However, I feel likewise inclined to somewhat reconcile my beliefs with my erstwhile meaningless lingo.  So although I won’t say ‘good godlessness’ or ‘great voids beyond,’ a watered-down {vaguely Victorian} reference to polytheism seems like a good halfway.