domestic arts in the age
of digital distribution.
Posted by vlorbik on September 20, 2015
Posted by vlorbik on September 7, 2015
so far today: two
(with “greek” seasoning and butter)
sandwich-halves, a couple hours apart.
meanwhile there’s a bunch of bacon,
mostly unused as of now. (& one of the
eggs was fried in baconfat.) and i had
some burger in there but madeline got
most of that stirred into some leftover
rice-and-cannned-veggies with some
multicolor minipeppers (cooked in the
burgerfat) thrown in. (and of course i
had some of those as well, specifically
the tops and bottoms. dipped in ranch.)
“french bread” toast. also madeline’s
signature beerbread, also toasted.
instant coffee of course, milk & sugar.
some fresh lemonade. life is good.
Posted by vlorbik on August 29, 2015
first i had the egg, fried over easy in butter,
and the bread, toasted & buttered. in the form
of a sandwich half, with mixed-in-the-package
“greek” seasoning. the pan was plenty hot and
there was plenty of butter, so the egg came up
perfect: hard white, runny yolk.
that was for me. as meanwhile i was peeling the taters.
four slices of bacon… way fatty at one end but meaty
enough overall… go in the pan while i cut up the taters.
i quarter ’em the long way and then slowly slide ’em under
the big knife as i roll it up-&-down “slicer” style.
my hands are much surer at this task then they were
even a few months ago, but there’s a long way to go
before i’ve ever *really* got that knife under control:
quickness and uniformity are both slow to develop.
the main thing of course is not to slice off any part
of any fingers while you’re about it.
and it all goes in the baconfat.
now chop up the onion. as you can see,
i had a “northern hemisphere” onion-half.
i halved this again & threw away the skin.
(& ate some of the outer layer). then bisected
the resulting quarter-onion wedge the long way
(along its wedge-edge). each narrower-wedge
so created, i then split again the same way.
so you throw the onion-sixteenth wedges into
the pan with the taters. where the separate
layers making them up fall apart quite nicely.
maybe throw in some butter, too. why not.
last are the peppers. i just cut up along their
“latitudes”; they form nice rings this way easily.
the seeds are all at the top. i eat the tops raw
myself, possibly dipped in ranch. the bottoms too.
the rings mostly go in the pan.
when the burntest tater-slice is getting dark, eat it
and stir everything up. spread around the mixed-in-
-package “taco” seasoning. fuss around with the heat
more or less randomly. when the fattest slice is soft
enough, and all the other ingredients are in, put in
some bacon-bits. (edit the fattiest bits out altogether
and eat the most questionable remaining bits for yourself;
the rest in the pan.)
serve with ketchup & buttered toast.
& ice tea. and a manky-teethed smile.
today’s lemonade isn’t made yet.
getting back to work.
Posted by vlorbik on August 28, 2015
no leftover grader’s jobs at BigState U
for me this semester… so maybe less
blogging next door at MEdZ.
if i *were* to’ve posted there today,
it’d prob’ly’ve been a ramble about
*music* (rather than math-per-se).
i sure spend (a *lot*) more time working
on music than on math these days.
but “summer doesn’t count”, as it were:
i’ve *been* unemployed in math-ed-world
for months. but now it’s official.
i suppose the point here is that i might
just as well consider myself an unemployed
*musician* as an unemployed *math teacher*.
(other than the decades of paycheck-job style
work at “math” and the never-even-one-paying-gig
thing in music, that is.)
hell, i might as well consider myself an
unemployed *philosopher*, for that matter.
or “educationist”. which sounds like
a sneerword, i’ll admit. hell, i’ll even
cop to having *used* it as such. but if
there *is* such a thing, at least in *my*
imagination, i *am* one: that’s why
the blog next door is math *ed* zine blog,
not *math* zine blog.
teaching, for me, has long been The Art.
math-teaching, specifically, mostly…
but over some of these later years
i’ve become given to saying (and typing,
and posting) that “all the arts are
one art” (“… look again: look closer.”)
and for sure, all these analogies keep
occurring to me as i bang away at music…
and bible-study… and, heck, this used to
be owen’s-cooking-show, *cooking*,…
and whatnot; here’s another favored slogan
of mine: “i’m studying studying”.
i even got to lecture a few times in humanities
as a pro somehow along the way. so, yes, it *is*
teaching-itself, not just specifically math-teaching,
that i’m putting forth as the heart-of-the-matter
by the conspicuous use of Capital Letters up there
but. i came by my awe-of-the-teacher’s-art honestly,
as they say: my dad was a teacher (technically a
college prof; of course i’m using the term very
broadly here). and an outstanding one at that.
and he had an amazing “skillset” to draw on
(including singing-and-piano, close-up magic,
and drafting, all at or above semi-pro level
[before i ever knew him], along with the academic
stuff (“thomas, you have a raging love of words”,
somebody told him once… as he told me *several*
times). but he made his fame and fortune mostly
as a teacher of teachers and an author of textbooks.
which, ever since i began railing against trends
in the textbook-publishing-industry, has always
sort of *bothered* me. because there are all
these *textbook millionaires* out there whose
books i would’ve *loved* to seen replaced with
cheap and widely available reprints in any number
of classes (taught by me) with what seemed very
much the *wrong* texts.
oh, well. i could be an unemployed *preacher*
if only i had some *faith*. lord, i believe.
help me in my unbelief.
we now return to our regularly-scheduled cooking show.
Posted by vlorbik on August 18, 2015
farmer’s-market fresh watermelon.
*and* an enormous tomato much better
than the genetically-blahblah stuff
from the grocer… enough for two
BLT’s and a salad, with leftovers
for the cook… *and* several ears
of fresh-enough-to-eat-raw corn.
(only one gone so far but who counts.)
my mother was here for her usual
summer plays-and-loved-ones tour
of the eastern-midwest and boy
was it great. the farmer’s
market at the church carny you
know about. madeline made some
melt-in-your-mouth chicken in
the crockpot and some amazing
bread; meanwhile i tossed a salad
and served. lemonade, real lemons.
ice tea. real tea. real ice.
meanwhile, i’ve been banging out
the taters and whatnot. and there’s
this store-boughten “french” bread
that’s way better than the usual
industry-grade airbread. you slice it
just before dropping it in the toaster.
it’s not quite as good as the home-made
but there’s a freshness to it that
the “pre-sliced” stuff doesn’t get.
these dinky little three-color greenpeppers
(that madeline’s been getting) are adorable.
you just cut off the heads and tails
(& dip ’em in ranch and swallow ’em);
the rest slices up neatly in cute little
onion-ring-like circles to be thrown into
your salad. or homefries, or what have you.
sandwich, if you were more daring than i.
there’s some burgers thawing. indeed,
probably thawed by now and ready for
frying (if i could only stop typing)
or for jamming-into-the-fridge (if,
despite my best efforts, i should
somehow *fail* to stop typing).
did i mention that i did my
best-ever church service
last week and change? because,
whaddaya know. i did that.
history’s happiest human again today.
Posted by vlorbik on August 10, 2015
Posted by vlorbik on July 31, 2015
i hit the ground running after a layoff
of a few days and bam!
(1) turn on the burner. all the way up: “high”.
(2) grab whatever clutter is on top o’ th’ toaster;
jam it all over in its spot on the washer.
fuss around as necessary with whatever counter-
-tops you’ve seen along the way (though, of
course, most–maybe all–of this would’ve been
better left unmentioned).
the butter is already starting to burn.
so grab a fork… the plastic stuff works,
yay…an’ slsm that better-than-perfect
Posted by vlorbik on July 31, 2015
when we got back from the roadtrip
i must’ve been in a cooking-show mood
(and so to bed.)
anyhow, first thing. show up; put the burner
on “high”. get a bread-bag bread out; drop
one slice in the toaster and jam it on down.
find a coffee-cup; fill it to 5/6 or so
& start it up in the micro-wave. beep-
-beep-beep. 1:30. trust but verify.
“eggiweggs!”, one is called upon to exclaim
at this point. back to the “fridge”; grab
an egg. you know what? set that egg aside
in whatever measuring-cup is handy; good.
*now*, what. more *butter*, okay.
i’ve lost the “thread”. but
“the sky’s the limit”.
g-d i wish i was me.
Posted by vlorbik on July 18, 2015
Posted by vlorbik on July 16, 2015
a drifter escaped from a boxcar/ denouncing obviously jive believers/ has a zine about it in the catalog/ but nobody can work the damned randtrievers/ and the cats are praying in the alley/ and the pool shark is chalking up his cue/ an’ i’m out lookin’ for my lady/ down on kirkwood avenue
jesse, he’s round the corner/ buskin in front of the bird/ doesn’t bother him if no-one stops to listen/ doesn’t bother him if they don’t like the words/ and some violence boys might come and beat him down/ and he’ll forgive ’em more than i could ever do/ but that’s nothin compared to what’s goin on/ back on kirkwood avenue
a melancholy cougar/ buys a hoagie from a clown/ there’s a tempest brewing somewhere/ and there’s panthers on the other edge of town/ and the goddess of gloom and the jester/ are doin’, that thing they love to do/ in a video montage/ at the parking garage/ on kirkwood avenue
a cloud of marijuana/ is obscuring the people in the park/ or maybe i’m just losing my eyesight/ or maybe it’s just getting close to dark/ an’ the tournament game was a victory/ so now it’s turnin’ into a zoo/ an’ the riot squad and the thunder god/ are on kirkwood avenue