"Authentic" Italian
Magenta sunrise over Seattle, cool dark water, Caramel machiatto (sp?), the last few chapters of Micah and 2 from the Sermon on the Mount. “You cannot serve both God and mammon”…
Must be the opening scenes from “another trip to easterly destinations”! (for the purpose of earning more mammon that I must not serve… “or you will be devoted to one and hate the other”). All this with “Desperado” playing in my head…injected into my subconscious while shopping yesterday.
Now…I am thousands of feet in the air listening to “Chanticleer: Magnificat”. Soaring human voices lilt high above the turbulence of this journey… both temporal and extended, (though even the latter is called a “mist” and a “watch in the night” by He who knows all lay-overs betwixt me and my final destination!).
Then onto the ground at Dulles: I hate this airport! They changed departing gates on me AFTER I landed and checked once…and then…I bought a Mozzarella / Tomato / Basil sandwich, only to discover, (after I was on the plane leaving), that it was really a Mozzarella / Tomato sandwich, rather bland and not what the label “Authentic Italian” claimed to be. My bike has more Basil in it than that did, (and happens to be a lot more “authentic”). Alas, it cannot be carried or eaten.
I reached my final destination and, while testing a power supply out for a portable hard-drive I brought with me, realized that the A/C and D/C wall adapters at Radio Shack are mixed on the shelves. “Stink” is what I said…and “stink” is what the hard-drive had just done, sending a little smelly puff of gray smoke up into the air, right at the counter of the store. (They let me put the parts back – and I left). Rather embarrassing, but I should learn not to try anything technical, before dinner, at close of a day that I have flown across the country. (Something about a “bag of hammers” comes to mind, any “O Brother Where Art Thou?” fans out there?).
I have self deprecated enough! Good night.
Oh, Ms. Congeniality has it right, the Caramel Machiatto (sp?) was wonderful. Not as sweet as the Mochas and in its foamy yummy-ness it was unsurpassed. Caramel, with no “candy burn”? Now there’s a concept!
Great…now that “Big Rock Candy Mountain” song is playing in my head.
Must be the opening scenes from “another trip to easterly destinations”! (for the purpose of earning more mammon that I must not serve… “or you will be devoted to one and hate the other”). All this with “Desperado” playing in my head…injected into my subconscious while shopping yesterday.
Now…I am thousands of feet in the air listening to “Chanticleer: Magnificat”. Soaring human voices lilt high above the turbulence of this journey… both temporal and extended, (though even the latter is called a “mist” and a “watch in the night” by He who knows all lay-overs betwixt me and my final destination!).
Then onto the ground at Dulles: I hate this airport! They changed departing gates on me AFTER I landed and checked once…and then…I bought a Mozzarella / Tomato / Basil sandwich, only to discover, (after I was on the plane leaving), that it was really a Mozzarella / Tomato sandwich, rather bland and not what the label “Authentic Italian” claimed to be. My bike has more Basil in it than that did, (and happens to be a lot more “authentic”). Alas, it cannot be carried or eaten.
I reached my final destination and, while testing a power supply out for a portable hard-drive I brought with me, realized that the A/C and D/C wall adapters at Radio Shack are mixed on the shelves. “Stink” is what I said…and “stink” is what the hard-drive had just done, sending a little smelly puff of gray smoke up into the air, right at the counter of the store. (They let me put the parts back – and I left). Rather embarrassing, but I should learn not to try anything technical, before dinner, at close of a day that I have flown across the country. (Something about a “bag of hammers” comes to mind, any “O Brother Where Art Thou?” fans out there?).
I have self deprecated enough! Good night.
Oh, Ms. Congeniality has it right, the Caramel Machiatto (sp?) was wonderful. Not as sweet as the Mochas and in its foamy yummy-ness it was unsurpassed. Caramel, with no “candy burn”? Now there’s a concept!
Great…now that “Big Rock Candy Mountain” song is playing in my head.
posted by Adam at 7:36 AM
12 Comments:
Good job on the spelling Adam- there are a lot of people who can't even figure out how to pronounce it!
One evening as the sun went down and the jungle fire was burning.
Down the track came a hobo hikin' and he said "Boys, I'm not turning.
I'm headed for a land that's far away beside the crystal fountains.
So come with me we'll go and see the Big Rock Candy Mountains."
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, there's a land that's fair and bright.
Where the handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night.
Where the boxcars all are empty and the sun shines every day
on the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees, the lemonade springs where the blue bird sings in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains all the cops have wooden legs and the bull dogs all have rubber teeth and the hens lay soft-boiled eggs.
The farmers trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay.
Oh I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow, where the rain don't fall, the wind don't blow in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains you never change your socks and the little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks.
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind.
There's a lake of stew and a-whiskey too.
You can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains the jails are made of tin and you can walk right out again as soon as you are in.
There ain't no short handled shovels, no axes, saws or picks.
I'm a-goin to stay where you sleep all day.
Where they hung the turk that invented work in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
I'll see you all this comin fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
Wow! What a wonderfull bunch of comments. Kudoes for spelling Machiatto correctly, (actualy I sort of cheated and looked at the receipt - but found I already had it right), empathy for my nasty sandwich, a plan for a true Italian dinner even and...can you believe it? Bruce claims the world record for the longest comment in reciting (from Memory!?) the entirety of "Big Rock Candy Mountain". Its a good thing everyone has already left for home or they would heard me a-singing it!
Sorry but no, not from memory. But, I did type it as I listenend to the song. So...kinda. I didn't just cut and paste lyrics or anything! But there are songs I can recite from memory! Like Man of Constant Sorrow (I am a little rusty though...).
Perhaps I'll be able to come over to that side of the water some time while your home Adam, it seems like it never happens... (ever heard of Mystery Science Theater 3000? I hope so...)
Adam: do you type as fast as you talk? Just wondering.
P.S. - I hope that Carmel Makeato was decaf. :)
Sounds like you picked a better airline than me if you got some Magnificat, as I spent the long ride from Seattle to Philly stuck with no more edifying radio programming than Spice Girls: Their Greatest Hits, and Disney Girls Rock!. The later an unspeakable mix of Hillary Duff, Lindsay Lohan, and some of their lesser known confederates.
Nate,
I had to bring Magnificat MP3s in order to partake of the sublime, (not to be confused with "Sublime"), otherwise I would have had the same sorry pop mix you did.
dude, sounds like nate needs to change the channel. there MUST be another option besides 'tween girls. PLEASE!!!
mom: what's CW?
Believe me, I did change the channel, but the only other offerings were creepy speakeasyesque jazz, Gretchen Wilson, and the late great Tupac Shakur (by the way I hear he's really hiding out in Eastern Trebizond with Elvis.) So as you can easily see, I was caught between the proverbial Duff and a hard place, and my only feasible option was to hoist the Union Jack and crank up the Spice Girls. I consider myself vindicated ;)
who's gretchen wilson? she sounds folksy, cool and old.
dude - even speakeasyesque jazz sounds better than teenyboppers.
Alas, Gretchen Wilson is not old or cool. She is a self described "Redneck Woman", and is foremost among the new wave of country musicians bent on leaving behind country's church goin' flag wavin' past. Her music is almost as bad as her morals.
As for the teenyboppers, I never said I actually listened to THEM, just the Spice Girls... Okay?
Post a Comment
<< Home