Dear Radio Dodo Fans,
I got your letters- thank you; it means the world to me that you are listening. I love that you are feeling this music, this sound, these words, with me. Here is your song for today; it's one that really slays me, no matter who is singing it. It's so immortally honest.
Here is another, if you feel like it, and another. And this one, too.
EVOLUTION (2014) Brendan Jamison and Mark Revels.
250,000 sugar cubes. 130 x 480 x 360 cms.
Sugar Hill Museum of Art and Storytelling, Harlem, NYC
Dear Sweet,
It's been a long time between recipes here, but here is one I hope you will try: Butter Mochi Cake, from Hawaii. Whenever you read the words "from Hawaii" you are bound to bust out in sugary jingle song (if you had a television in the 1970's, anyway- and yes, I am aware of the destructive colonizing power of the sugar trade, but I am offering you this cake and this jingle with apologies for all of it). When you are done singing, watch this tour of a C & H sugar factory, and then get back to your baking, if you choose to. Or, watch another old ad for sugar, if you like.
Dear Today,
I have another trio of songs for you. My DJ played them in just this order some time ago, and I have been planning to give them to you here. They constitute a marvelous totality which I know you will enjoy!
PS
Maybe you can't get enough, maybe? Of Go Home? Here are six more; if you only allow yourself one further, take the last one, and write me and tell me you were not overcome by the beauty of those voices.
Dear Friends,
Today I shall be sharing my secret recipe for Identity Pie. It's a no recipe recipe, I guess, but as I said before, I want you to enjoy making yours, so feel free to measure exactly, or find another recipe for it. In any case, this pie will only feed one, so you will have to get together with more folks if you want to make a dinner party out of it. If it doesn't seem like much more than a list of things, that's because I am trying to include all the things that I did not when I was asked to make it before.
sitting around with a cup of coffee
watching birds, animals, plants, the sea
sewing things like clothes, pillows, stuffed mice
other needlework like knitting, crocheting, quilting, embroidering, weaving
baking bread each week
making fermented hot sauce
being in open spaces
buying lipstick
loving shoes and clothes and temporary tattoos
singing and playing guitar
speaking Spanish & French
writing
drawing
painting
taking photos
shopping
baking
cooking
looking up words
playing solitary games
watching junky, old, television, with questionable white, male protagonists
liking chrome
hating cleaning
liking wine
smoking
considering
apologizing
cutting my hair
appearing knowledgeable
appearing interested
appearing polite
appearing
Dear Muttering,
Why do you or I matter? Well, in geologic scale, we don't. It's okay to say that. No, it's actually quite good to say that. Why? As insurance against being used. I don't want, in my desire to matter, to do a heap of unnecessary emotional labor, or to go around working for The Man, our Robot Overlords, Capitalism and godknowswhat all garbage. Just exactly why would I try to 'matter' in some ill-defined way which is controlled by the human construct of 'civilization.' What, I say, might matter to a rabbit? To a beetle? A poppy? A child? A lightening strike? A puddle of mud?
Yes, yes, I know, it sounds too romantic for our world of contemporary knowledge; it's just another way for you to put your head in the sand, you say. But, I do feel that a map, a guideline, a test, is a very handy item to have as we travel through the seasons and years.
One thing I am going to use to shape my meaning and my mattering, is this mantra: I will not be told to clean things. I have a coffee table filled with magazines that tell me what to do, and most of the admonitions revolve around cleaning. Declutter, degrease, simplify. Exfoliate, shed, let go of. Organize, dust, deep clean. Store, fold, be mindful.
These actions do give a nice sense of being in charge, and they seem to need doing, so that's a nice feeling. A feeling of mattering, a feeling of having control over dust, objects, wilted leaves. But, mightn't it cause me to focus only on the dead and dying? Are you simply, in life, making a mess or cleaning a mess? That seems a bit thin, doesn't it?
Here I am at the end, again, and I still have not given a list of things that I like to think (pretend?) make me who I am. Up next, the fourth and final episode in this discussion: baking an Identity Pie.
Dear Reader,
Recall our last discussion- on what we should do, and by extension, what we should not. I am going to put some space here, in which you should consider the question, let it sink in; selah, in the musical pause sense.
Ready? I will go first; I think we should try to do what we like, even though that will mean a certain amount of secrecy. I would also add that I want to work to be less secret. What does that mean, you ask? I am not sure, but I think it means that I will tell you what I am thinking and feeling without filtering it so much that I mediate myself into your acceptance. Hmm, that makes it sound like I am spoiling for a fight! Maybe I am.
Okay, you next. What should we do?
Recall also my pathetic wheel of identity, as I tried to craft a persona that said "I matter and this is why." This topic will be broadened in our next meeting, titled, Mattering.