yesterday

the heated talking on the plane, chick is shaking, gets up while the plane is taxiing towards towards runway so she can vomit in a bathroom rows away, her legs are shaking

so badly, they buckle and she has to hold herself up by other people’s seats, there are question marks arising from the back of people’s necks. she comes back shaking, face wet, sits down, purser comes after her asks their group why she’s shaking
like she’s terrified, skin terrified, body terrified.

they brush it off, say she is okay, plane trouble

they ask us to deplane. waiting around the airport, she’s still shaking 
walking around, smoking cigarettes, avoid them like the plague because something is wrong with them - i would know.
the second time they tell us our flight is delayed, we’re in line and she collapses in the back seizing, my younger brother tells me all of this and we push our way to watch - she is someone’s wife, the shorter man’s, he has blue eyes, he watched me type away on my computer, questioned how i knew english - ambulance

but these russians say no to the doctors, this is when i know (flash jesse flash you flash people i have lost, who have lost, this woman is losing),

airport police come in, take their luggage and passport. but there is yelling and some could care less about a woman writhing on the floor, high on some shit, because people that want to go home are not going home, i have no home save for you.
so where is she going as they wheel her out- she is limp on the gurney, and her companions, her husband - are paler things now, i know english better than they do.
on the way to the hotel to wait the rest of the delay out, i  remember how she looked at me, stared me down as if to say she is not as lucky as i, homelessness is an ordinary thing on the streets, in airports, in homes.
i can only tell you about how her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s and her bruises were sallow and green.
For the sake of a few lines one must see many cities, men and things. One must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the small flowers open in the morning. One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings which one had long seen coming; to days of childhood that are still unexplained, to parents that one had to hurt when they brought one some joy and one did not grasp it (it was joy for someone else); to childhood illness that so strangely began with a number of profound and grave transformations, to days in rooms withdrawn and quiet and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars-and it is not enough if one may think all of this. One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which was like the others, of the screams of women in labor, and of light, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again. But one must also have been beside the dying, one must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises. And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again. For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not until they have turned to blood within us, to glance, to gesture, nameless and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves-not until then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.

Rainer Maria Rilke, “The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge: A Novel” (via triccie)

PROJECT: PERFECT SARNIE, IN THE WORKS

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This is something that’s been swimming around my head for the past week. I love a good sandwich and I hear plenty people talk about their perfect sandwich, but I have never encountered one that’s blown my mind and made me say this is the perfect sandwich. We have food establishments that make their fortunes off making sandwiches, and fast food joints with quick burgers and the like. With so much variety, it’s close to impossible to pin point the perfect sandwich. But because I love an adventure, especially if it deals with food, I’m going to try anyway.

So this is PROJECT: PERFECT SARNIE in the works!

To be honest, this is coming at a very serendipitous time in my life. It is birthed not just because of sheer interest, but necessity. More than just finding the ‘holy grail of sandwiches’, this could be a way to have some kind of gastronomic kaleidoscope in my soon to be split-second city life. I’ve had a taste of living through a barrage of deadlines for work and I do not wish to go back to 7-11 mystery pastry breakfasts on the train to the office or spending hard earned money on subpar lunches.

Also! It’s tough, but I have to come to terms with three main facts:

1. Moving into the world of bills, rent and taxes, I must live frugally and eating out adds up!

2. I can’t cook, basically

3. aaand healthy eating is something I want to be on top of.

With those reasons, it seems sandwiches are the best way to steer clear from MSG- loaded instant-anythings. Other pluses include that sandwiches are a great way to pack flavor into a meal that keeps well, is compact, and if done the right way, immensely satisfying. Of course, doing it the “right way” is relative to cravings, taste and budget, etc. This is another reason why sandwiches are good to experiment with.  They are very flexible in the ways that they can be prepared and presented to suit anybody’s preferences. Besides, everyone loves sandwiches, right?

Perhaps this is why instead of experimenting with my own ingredients (after all, I am no culinary maven), or referring to a recipe book for sandwiches or say, having people recommend me restaurants that serve good sandwiches, I have instead, chosen to gather personal recipes of other individuals on what makes their perfect sandwich. These people come from all walks of life and I find that a delightful bonus in asking the question of what makes a perfect sandwich is a fun and quirky way to discover more about old friends, and perhaps to make a memorable conversation with new ones.

But for posterity’s sake, I must define what a sandwich is! According to wiktionary, a sandwich, sarnie, and whatever else you may call it is a snack formed of various ingredients between two slices of bread with any combination formed by layering material of one type between two layers of material of another type.

Given that definition, we know that there have been a plethora of sandwich deviations and varieties spawned, even the ironic open-faced sandwich is considered a sandwich! That, and also, sandwiches are not considered just snacks anymore. But this is not so much about rules but adventures and exploration, so any sandwich recipe is a go with only one condition: that the creator truly pegs it as their “perfect sandwich”. Even ice-cream sandwiches are welcome! Different strokes for different folks!

So this is the low down:

PROJECT: PERFECT SARNIE features the recreation of a different people’s ‘perfect sandwich recipes’ every week beginning mid-March. Along with a profile of their creators, insights and taste tales will be recorded on this little online space.

But I think I’ve given enough back story to this whole thing. Right now, I’ve got more recipes to chase after (maybe some even from you guys!), a slew of breads to hunt down and ingredient combinations that intrigue me to my eyeballs. And the best thing is, they’re all easy peasy to do! Perhaps after all this, I might have mastered my sandwich making technique and maybe, just maybe, I’ll have the guts to foray into actual cooking!

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Thanks to my tech-savvy, form loving friend, Saab, I now have the niftiest way for you guys to submit your perfect sandwich recipes! Just click on link below!

P:PS QUESTIONNAIRE

Can’t wait for all your contributions!

❤zoe