A N N A J O H N ' S D I A R Y

Stunts, Blunts and Hip Hop: I'm taking you back

   1. Diamond D-         "Sally got a one-track mind"

   2. Brand Nubian-      "Slow Down"

   3. Das Efx-           "They want Efx"

   4. MC Lyte-           "Paper Thin"

   5. The Fab 5-         "Leflaur Leflah Eshkoshka"

   6. Eric B and Rakim-  "Don't sweat the technique"

   7. Blahzay Blahzay-   "Danger"

...and approximately 20 others I'm too lazy to format.  Just trust me on this, it was sick.

this might end badly...

 

I've been craving chapathi, and while Panda has been sweet enough to grab take-out from Amma, it's just not the same as the softer, buttery perfection my moms makes like it ain't no thang.

When I was younger and more useful, I made it (dough and all) by myself a few times, but mostly I was called upon to assist my father by adding water (as needed) to the atta, salt and oil which he was mixing, hours in advance of dinner...or to flip what was in the cast-iron pan as moms rolled out more. So I'm not totally unaware of how it all works.

Still, that doesn't mean that I have any confidence in what might emerge from that deceptively-correct-looking dough in the steel bowl there...I'll keep you posted.

She still holds my hand...

She still holds my hand..., originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

...like she did in '76, when I was 16 months old and visiting Kerala for the first time. I miss her already.

July 9

Best blueberry pie EVER, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

Aside from nine games of scrabulous on Facebook, clearing out five voicemails (I fucking hate voicemail.  The only people who leave me voicemail are apparently unaware that I am FAR more likely to immediately check and promptly respond to a text message) and one delicious three hour nap, not much was accomplished today, but that's the whole point of *resting*, innit. I thought I might be done with such boring mandates to"not move", but I went to Safeway yesterday for some Sourdough bread-- it's all I crave when I'm feeble-- and I had a wee reality check.  :(

Safeway is all of two blocks away, but I was winded going uphill, which was a bit demoralizing. I wasn't expecting to feel normal, but wheezing and gasping for air when you're still able to see your house sucks.  More resting it is, then.  I'm sort of feeling better, more like my old, obnoxious self, but actual physical activity makes my lungs scream.  I guess I've mended mentally but not respiratorially.  I totally just made that word up.

I should just accept that it's going to take some time before I'm back to my dancing-on-tables/walk-two-miles-for-an-errand/gym bunny self.  Sigh.

Moderating comments on SM (something I haven't done in weeks) made my chest hurt.  This is why I have stayed away.  It's not worth the toll on my health.  I know, I must learn to let the unbelievable amounts of stupidity roll off my kundi like water off a chembu/arbi leaf, but it's so fucking annoying to read some of that shit.  Panda says I shouldn't lower myself to get mired in debating idiots.  "You're never going to persuade them that they're wrong and they are happy you're engaging them.  All the while, you stress out."

July 4-6: Back to--coughCOUGHcough-- life.

A special note before we return to our irregularly scheduled programming:

one massive thank you to Sania, whose comment single-handedly solved the craptacular mystery bug this blog had a few days ago.  remember?  it was requiring all of you to attempt to log in to read what IS a public site?  if you haven't seen Sania's blog yet, do.  it's so much fun and not at all what I was expecting, from its name.  once there, you'll read something I have always believed-- L'oreal's HIP is good shit for brown girls, innit?  THANKS, SANIA! :)

::

The problem with not updating one's blog is simple; the longer one takes to sit one's kundi down and just type something, the more onerous it all seems.  When one is on medication that causes drowsiness, not updating becomes an acceptable way to unacceptably abuse one's beloved diary.

I've been sick.

Really sick.

There doesn't seem to be much point in writing anything here when all I'm supposed to do is rest and drink a lot of fluids and not go outside.  Granted, I am stubborn and useless, so instead of resting, I'll occasionally find myself improvising pasta recipes or sitting on the edge of my couch, in my MTTM tee watching Nadal battle mightily to win the greatest Wimbledon final I've ever seen...but most days, I have nothing new to report, je promis. 

I also am sick of hearing, "wow, you're still sick?  what's wrong with you?".  What, like I enjoy this?  No one is more aware than I am that I have been sick for almost a month and that this all is occurring within six months of my having pneumonia (with which I was also sick for a month).  I'm frustrated enough, I don't need to be put in the awkward and utterly excruciating position of lamely stammering something like, "well, I caught that monstrous bug or virus which just levels people...and then it all just mutated in to acute bronchitis...yes, I took antibiotics, about a week ago...no, still not feeling well...yes, I'm concerned...fine, I agree that I should have seen the doctor two days earlier..."  What are you, my mom?  Even she doesn't give as much of a shit, I assure you.

Anyway, I've resigned myself to being feeble for many, many more days, which is why I allowed myself a brief, shimmering reprise of my normal life by attending the Karsh Kale/Midival Punditz show on Friday night, the fourth of July (aside: I liveblogged that from my wee little phone!!).  I know, not the most brilliant choice if I'm sick but I kept choking on the thought that the event (which also featured the soulful, passionate singing of one stellar Vishal Vaid) seemed a bit once-in-a-lifetime.  What's an extra week of coughing and fatigue compared to THAT?

I was right.  The show was phenomenal.  Magical.  One of the best nights of my life.  I did an admirable job of showing restraint on the dance floor, even though I was just five feet from Karsh himself; I know my limits and any physical exertion usually results in respiratory distress, these days.  But still, to be there, in the presence of people who were euphoric to do what they do, whether that's soaring vocals, spinning choons or playing tabla as if possessed-- there was no greater way to spend a night and squander what little progress I've made in recovering.  I will never forget hearing "Milan", live, or slow dancing in the middle of that crowd, oblivious to the rest of the world, surrendered entirely to the music, my cheek pressed against the smoothest, most gorgeous face I've ever known.  What is life, except the beauty found in such rare and fleeting moments, strung together like prayer beads, to hold on to and meditate on, forever?

karsh + midival

...live. Jealous? :)

THIS SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING

What the...?, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.

If you are receiving a prompt like the one in this photograph, I am so, so sorry. I have no idea what is going on with my blogs, but rest assured, I've contacted TypePad about it to try and get this situation resolved, asap.

If you hit cancel, that weird window should go away and allow you on your merry way...emphasis on the word "should".

As if I needed another reason to not update my blog...

:(

Why I Have ALWAYS preferred guys on the Right Coast

The YouTube clip above is actually just sound; AFAIK there are no images.  Before I type anything else, I should quote you some background information with which to frame this clusterfuck situation:

In all my years of studying douchebaggery, never have i encountered anything like this. It’s such pure and unadulterated douche that I wish I could bottle it and use just a drop of it at a time.

The back story on this is that a girl named Olga was out with her friends in the Marina district of San Francisco (known for being a popular hang out for douches), and she talked to this guy named Dmitri for all of two minutes. Then she gave him her card and said “give me a call.” The above is the messages he left. Listen to the whole thing, it just keeps getting better and better. I won’t even tell you my favorite parts because i don’t want to ruin anything. Just listen. [omg]

Minnows, few things in my life have ever rendered me entirely mute. 

That voicemail was one of them.   

Unfortunately, I ran in to representatives for Massengill similar to this exquisite piece of shit work often when I lived at home.  In startling contrast, in New York, guys will just walk up to someone and say, "I'll just be blunt, and if I sound like an asshole, it's because I am. You're hot...let's fuck."  Far classier, methinks.

I'm still speechless, but at least I've recovered my powers of blog.  I may be feeble with bronchitis, but I had to inflict that share that with all of you.  Happy Chrismukkah, dear ones.

Why I'm happily, very, very vegetarian...

Exhibit A:

Terroirs d'Antan

Boudin Noir Sausage

Ingredients: pork blood, onion, duck meat, pork snouts, pork fat, salt, beef blood plasma, cornstarch, sugar, allspice, coriander, nutmeg, caraway, pepper, natural pork casings.

$15.30 @ Social Safeway,

in the gourmet portion of the freezer aisle.

That's all you, omnivores.

Wordle