hearthstrung

one year new

Home at last. This is what I wake to.

There is one long hallway from my room to the kitchen. At the end of it are wide windows. It is just early enough.

The first meal of the year.

Essentialise me more, please.

Pear, raw cacao, first flush Yabukita sencha from Uji prefecture.

And a great thanks to Kenneth, my friend, housemate, and general inspiration, for lending me his copy of Barthes’ Mythologies. We were talking about my thesis and he said he had just the book. He was right. I am enjoying it immensely.

I stand at the counter savouring. The sideways light brushing the steam from the tea; the bitternesses; good words.

It was one year ago hearthstrung began. A lot has happened since then. I am thankful. And it will have been a good year ending tomorrow, and the one ending the next day, and the next.

My interests have also developed in certain ways, as you can tell from what I was thinking and writing about a year ago. I’ve also gravitated towards this new look for hearthstrung, I think it frames what I’m trying to do right now nicely. ‘Twenty-ten’ was so twenty-eleven; it’s twenty-twelve and it’s time for ‘Autofocus’, am I right? I’m still working out the small stuff, but let me know what you think. Seriously. Including if you don’t like it. I care about this sort of thing.

I lingered for a while over the foggy glass pot and the last nibs on the board. Barthes was saying important, remarkable things. I cleaned.

As I left,

.

Arnold had found my suitcase open.

The rest of the day fills itself with reading, writing, walking the dogs on the beach. The sand was wet with a sheen of water, it looked the same as the ocean that looked like the sky. I like the north, the mild coolness. One layer and no socks. The family tracing the shallows, the elderly trio along the logs, the lone walker, murmur. Bay laps.

Kenneth’s new play-poems; Adorno; Schönberg, Bach.

Eggs and miso. Chioggia beets brunoise, broccoli, lemon pith; cilantro, ginger, Kastamonitsa, sesame. Banana bread.

There is the black upholstered armchair, the book. There is the fire.

 

 

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This entry was published on Sunday, January 1, 2012 at 6:52 pm. It’s filed under day-to-day eats, food, general, reading, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

3 thoughts on “one year new

  1. Pingback: juices « hearthstrung

  2. Pingback: a night tartine « hearthstrung

  3. Pingback: the fruits of fol epi « hearthstrung

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