This little tune is from the great year of 2007, and sounds so much like summer to me I can’t stand it.
This little tune is from the great year of 2007, and sounds so much like summer to me I can’t stand it.
“One consequence of not giving much forethought to our route was that we would sometimes end up somewhere when it might have been better not to be there. Late spring in Rajasthan, India’s desert state, for example, turns out to be terrifyingly hot. One hundred and five degrees is like the baseline. I swore I could feel my brain cook.
Luckily, in Jaisalmer, we found a hotel run by a friendly group of brothers. It had an open-air restaurant on the roof, and at night we’d bring up sheets from our room to sleep alongside the staff on cushion-lined stone benches. At dawn we’d wake up, cold and grateful to be cold.”
“As the father of two black teenage boys, this case hits close to home. This is the fear that seizes me whenever my boys are out in the world: that a man with a gun and an itchy finger will find them “suspicious.” That passions may run hot and blood run cold. That it might all end with a hole in their chest and hole in my heart. That the law might prove insufficient to salve my loss.”
One recent best-selling tome on regional cooking was produced entirely in a New York apartment kitchen, with almost no input from the author.
“Those are the cases where you are pretty sure the chef never even reads the book,” the writer said. Another ghost told me that sometimes the only direct input he gets for one chef’s books is a list of flavor combinations.
http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/14/dining/i-was-a-cookbook-ghostwriter.html?_r=1&pagewanted=2
“De Kooning pulled out a second set of drawings, chose a few and said, “These I would miss. I like them.” But then, as before, he dropped them back into their folder. “No,” he said, “I want it to be very hard to erase, I’m going to make it so hard for you to erase this.”
http://www.npr.org/blogs/krulwich/2012/03/12/148456099/two-ways-to-think-about-nothing