standing in the kitchen 9am light comes through the windows cold strawberries and quince on the counter sugar in bags wait by the stove an empty pot sits on the burner four padded feet chase after a fruit fly two feet stand, shuffle awkwardly one hand reaches for the spoon the other for the pan and the ignitor gas ignites become flame becomes heat the empty pan recieves the fruit the sugar melts i stir, hulls dissolve, water appears vapor and aromas leak into the kitchen sticky sweet heavy and thick like tension unspoken obvious and painful its left untouched to cook Boiling, bubbling, simmering, reducing in size but increasing in intensity till its done nice thick and rich more than enough for these two people too much for this one bedroom sf apartment when its done the jam goes into jars one to my lover that night the others to other lovers spread out the tension thickly on toast, burnt in the old toaster oven leave no jam in the house for the two of us just the lingering smell of sticky sweetness clinging to everything, leaving a residue a memory thinly layered on each moment they shared each item used together so that when you pick it up your hand get dirty messy with the memory of sweetness

mind still exploding. im always in between these hate the world moods that strike me, in the middle of a little bit of grumptasticness or deliriously happy and smiley cause life is shining so brite on my little patch of life. but i can be a seriously grumpy fuck for no real reason. im moody, i shift, i degenerate into a 12 year old boy who hates everything or maybe loves everything irrationally. but is still an indecisive, non-communicative boy.

it just means that im scared. that i dont know what im doing and that im unsure about the future. that all this uncertainty and all this newness make me really fucking uncomfortable. i smile, i walk, and i try to let it all wash down around me while not being too affected. hard.

agh

mind exploding.

gah

seasoning the cast iron, organizing the new room, thinking of designs, staring out the window, feeding the sourdough, cleaning the sauerkraut, giving love and attention to the kombucha, checking my ferment, plotting to make chilero, uploading photos, feeling out my new kitchen, piling up my books, thinking about what to put on my walls, filling the bathroom cabinet, folding clothes. All the extensions of myself that transform a place into a home. My home. Im making a home for myself. Sometimes I cant believe that.

happy new year y'all.

i had a marvelously mellow new years eve. calm, restorative, invigorating and fun. right now i am packing up my room for the move which will happen in a few days. tomorrow I get the keys and cut two huge checks for everything. i do not like writing huge checks. super bumsville.

this is so much more a diary than a real blog. i was thinking about writing and about food, shock, and realized that i could never start writing about food seriously in this blog because of its nature as a place for me to vent, ramble and or simply talk about whatever. its also old.

my room is almost all packed up, the shelves need to be broken down. the bed stripped and taken out, that wont be until the day i actually move. the 4th or so, i think. just down the street, more or less and i feeling overwhelmed. but ahead of things. somedays i dont know how to let go or calm down. and often i give people the advice, let it go or calm down its gonna be fine. if only i could take my own advice. sigh.

bedtime.

trying to get back into the one a day posting, or at least 5 times a week regular updates because I want to be writing more and this has always been a tool to encourage that. oh but all this newness, all this starting. there really feels like a limited amount of energy that ive got for starting new projects and this week already has a move in it and am already gonna try and walk/bike intentionally for a half hour a day starting tomorrow. garh. but, its ok cause there is always time as long as we keep moving and dont stall.

stalling.

drinking white wine, thats like stalling. i cant really believe that i am living right now, and right here. it seems surreal. like the only place ive ever lived is nj and the only home ill ever have is 158 deerhaven. i really think ive got to stop moving and settle cause the 3 month urge hits me so hard everytime that its really debillating as far as creating relationships, job security and savings accounts go. and i dont really worry about savings accounts, promise, but its there. its a silver thread, as my dad says and he's trying to cut while im trying not to plant them. but, my new place has windows. windows mean window boxes!

windowboxes should be called wonderboxes cause i can have flowers and herbs just outside my window. maybe even little veggies. who knows! buts its marvelous and yummy.

sigh, boxes.

rain rain rain

please come and stay. give your water to the ground. moisten gray dull surfaces in this city. brighten ignored colors hiding around each corner. accentuate noises running through this city.

splash drop plop plink gush.

i enjoy rainy days, they get me walking thinking pondering wondering. they even get me doing, which is sometimes quite the feat. feat, feet, my feet are cold. cold house, empty house, loud cat, tension poop vomit piss litter box laundry and annoying phone calls. stress, mess, not what I need. clean, warm homey love, attention care, soft. longing replaced by having. knowing confidence, trust fear and hope. the basics. life. built on building blocks of food, love, nature and family. maybe, maybe, maybe.

outside.