Down the street, through the alley,
drifting scents of grease and jok.
Onions in a barrel.
Entrails on a hook.
Turn left, off the hill
between hovel houses
and shackled doors,
roofs no higher than a father's head.
Look! A monkey!
A temple.
Smokey joss stick prayers waft up.
A thousand angry gods grin down.
The little gwai-lo, white ghost girl stands,
still.
Friday, December 01, 2006
Morford on Meat
(http://sfgate.com/columnists/morford/)
An old but good topic written in a new light. Sometimes he hits right on. This excerpt is particularly fabulous:
See, meat is, for the liberal progressive trying to cultivate something resembling a deeper conscience, a bit of a paradox, inside a conundrum, wrapped in a dilemma and grilled over fine mesquite on a sexy little $600 Eva Solo grill. To eat red meat with anything resembling joy in the most liberal and environmentally conscious and vegetarian-happy part of the nation is a bit like being from Salt Lake City and claiming you really love anal sex. In church. While sipping absinthe.
An old but good topic written in a new light. Sometimes he hits right on. This excerpt is particularly fabulous:
See, meat is, for the liberal progressive trying to cultivate something resembling a deeper conscience, a bit of a paradox, inside a conundrum, wrapped in a dilemma and grilled over fine mesquite on a sexy little $600 Eva Solo grill. To eat red meat with anything resembling joy in the most liberal and environmentally conscious and vegetarian-happy part of the nation is a bit like being from Salt Lake City and claiming you really love anal sex. In church. While sipping absinthe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
