This Courbet painting looks like Johnny Depp. Not a problem, really, just fascinating. As more people go to movies than to museums always and always, we all shout, "hey it looks like Johnny Depp" and maybe Johnny Depp says, "Hey I look like Gus Courbet."
I guess the ravaging-artist-genius look is one that hasn't changed much from 1845 to 2007. Something about the intensity of this self-portait of the artist as a hair-puller, eyes wide open, wrists exposed makes me want to head to New York and spend some hours staring at Courbet. The Met can use this dead-ringer for sexy movie star to pull in visitors and not pay the actor a dime. John May blogged this years ago, smarter and with a better picture.

And maybe we all have an historical doppelganger, maybe our appearances are never as distinctively original as we hope...

First, I'd like to report that making tapioca pudding is much easier than I thought it would be, course I did it the lazy way. Next time, I'll try it slow cooked. Looks like brains but tastes good. Taste and texture combined.
In other news, the snow today was perfect for packing into snowballs and throwing at trees (which I pretended were people who have recently told me no). Its only a stinker when the snow doesn't hit the tree but falls into the ground all peace-full like. Baloney.
And then I got to thinking about salmon.
because I read a bunch of short funny essays by Umberto Eco, while the tapioca cooled and the snow fell and my pride healed (apparently one cannot be a part-time phD candidate in the department of my choosing, still makes me want to throw a snowball).

More Eco (less noise?):

Lots of good stuff at the Modern Word

This might be one of my favorite bits of Eco, a charming rant about cell phone exhibitionism...

Next up for me, maybe, is to read The Gorge story.

So then I guess it's time to go read and sleep and dream and watch the snow fall in the moonlight and realize that I don't need no stinking degree and writing fiction is more fun anyway and it's a good idea to relax and sleep so I can wake up tomorrow with the strength to do what needs to be done.
thanks for listening, want some pudding?
Rachael

that's all really.
Rachael

Tonight I went to a lecture about the Hudson river, really it was an historian talking stories about the Hudson. The same river I grew up on. The talk flowed nicely. Nicely nicely. Has me thinking about stories, homes, and music.
So, I point you towards:
Bannerman's Island
Donald Barthelme's I Bought a Little City.

Tatyana Tolstoya's Yorick.

And then there's William Steig's show of cartoons and narrative drawings, stories I'd want to see.

And also I agree with these story songs, are mostly good stories, mostly good songs.

take care,
Rachael

My imagination (fueled by dayquill and plenty of citrus as I battle a small cold) is in overdrive. I am writing a story that involves in good measure:

an everyday working guy in Polish New Jersey (Wallington) based a bit on a Polish movie star

a medieval scholar obsessed with birds (see Hugh of Fouilloy's Avarium and you'll get it)

Abelard and Heloise (see some of her letters here)

the Polish National Church

and Polish architecture

I like to research and I like to tell stories so the process of following random ideas, connecting the dots, seeing some sort of coherence from a big pile of intriguing details. Maybe it will work, maybe it won't but if I am learning to write better by writing to learn more about other cultures, times, traditions and connections...then, no harm, no foul.

I'm absolutely in-debted to Barbara, Bella and Oskar for pointing me towards some truths of Polonia. And I love the fact that I can clumsily translate thanks to web toys like this one.

be well,
Rachael