i am accused of tending to the past
i am accused of tending to the past
as if i made it,
as if i sculpted it
with my own hands. i did not.
this past was waiting for me
when i came,
a monstrous unnamed baby,
and i with my mother's itch
took it to breast
and named it
she is more human now,
learning languages everyday,
remembering faces, names and dates.
when she is strong enough to travel
on her own, beware, she will.
Never underestimate the winning combination of : cayenne, garlic powder, and paprika. WINNING.
Good Gawd. Eat it now.
Go to the garden, the market, the grocer.
Eat it raw.
Enjoy it alone & with friends & with the cats.
It's kind of summer here, SO, please. Eat all of the fresh and local foods you can.
...annnnnd when you don't eat all the raw things and you happen to be in chicago : eat vegan mac & cheese and bbq from Soul Vegan!
Can't get enough.
I have been in and out of my home for the last few weeks – staying on foldout couches, sleeping bags, wood floors and air mattresses. In lush green, in city gray, in skies above, and in places where I wonder what’s below. I’ve been so excited to come “home” to you, here, and share my photographs, food, and adventures. Yet, I’ve noticed I’ve been avoiding writing about recipes, flavor fancies, or fun stories that encourage shoulders to shrug up with joy and my eyes to squint closed with pleasure.
I feel like I should offer a recipe, a song, a slice of cake. Yet, I have all of the feelings!
And, it's muggy. All I want to consume is cold water and cold strawberries.
SO, maybe you are, too, frequented by large doses of nostalgia or déjà vu.
An unsettling creak in the bones, a space between the ribs that falls into the stomach.
A wish for what was or will be, or could be.
One of the reasons I am so drawn to making art and specifically, documenting and creating evidential objects (photographs, this blog, etc.) is because of my need to grasp these sensory tidbits of longing, adoration and time.
To put them in the world - the things that we let go of all too quickly.
Oh, the temporality!
Here’s a little story.
I was expecting a friend over and looked around, finding, my kitchen was a complete mess. We were planning on baking that day, so, I did a quick clean and spritz.
My friend came over, entered the kitchen, and said, “What have you been doing? Your kitchen smells like Pickles.”
Let’s begin a "hodgepodge" of a conversation: “a confused mixture,” and, also a relation of “hotchpotch,” which is a term for mutton (apparently, that’s lamb) stew with mixed vegetables. I have neither mutton stew nor mixed vegetables for you today, my dear ones. I’ve been attempting to write and the only word that comes to mind is hodgepodge.
I don’t necessarily have a “confused mixture” to offer, but, I do often have confusion (!): a mix of new images and feelings on how challenging it can be to access, articulate and learn how to engage with the things we care about. I imagine it might be easy for some of you. You have it in the bag. The cat is in the bag? No, the cat is outta the bag. Wait, this has nothing to do with cats.
Have you always wondered what to bring to a Black and Pink event?
Well, Black and Pink cookies, of course.
On the screen today, I’ll share with you a tasty recipe that makes an abundance of treats…perfect to bring to your next prison abolition meeting or organizing event. Most folks need a bit of sweet sweet vegan support to do all the amazing, fierce things they do. And, if anyone needs a little cajole, it doesn’t hurt to give ‘em a cookie.
Housequeer on the facebook
Barbara & Barbara
Black and Pink
Post Punk Kitchen
Pusheen the Cat
Susan Virginia Yoga
You're at housequeer.com! All recipes, images, and content (unless otherwise noted) are property of Housequeer and may not be re-posted, published, or otherwise duplicated without credit and/or permission. Thanks!