scotch eggs and punsch, what?

On the 24th of last month, I took a very last-minute flight up to New York City to see my Lawrence, who was in the area for work.

We went to The Dead Rabbit. Great story behind that place. They're a grocery and a grog, which is twice as nice.

Scotch eggs had been on my list for almost a year, so when I saw them on the Taproom's menu, my decision required no thought. It came with its own mini jar of Colman's Mustard, which is a lot of Colman's mustard, I would quickly learn. You don't know what real mustard is until you've tried it. And that's no lie.

I paired the egg with Swedish Punsch, which was probably highly irregular. Most Brits probably order beer with theirs. But cocktails are my weakness, so I couldn't resist this concoction:

Batavia Arrack Van Oosten, lemon sherbet, lemon juice, ginger, Lapsang Souchong tea.

Scotch eggs remind me of The River Thames, because at some point I wrote a bucket list item that involved both the eggs and the river. Then that got me thinking about The Man Who Was Thursday, because The River Thames plays a decent role in the story - it's part of the backdrop for an incredibly intense conversation about philosophy and the nature of man. So these were recurring streams of consciousness as I ate and drank, interrupted violently by spicy mustard shocks.

I forgot my pipe. BLAST.


thanks | a poem by w. s. merwin

with the night falling we are saying thank you
we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings
we are running out of the glass rooms
with our mouths full of food to look at the sky
and say thank you
we are standing by the water looking out
in different directions.

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging
after funerals we are saying thank you
after the news of the dead
whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you
looking up from tables we are saying thank you
in a culture up to its chin in shame
living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you
over telephones we are saying thank you
in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators
remembering wars and the police at the back door
and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you
in the banks that use us we are saying thank you
with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable
unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us
our lost feelings we are saying thank you
with the forests falling faster than the minutes
of our lives we are saying thank you
with the words going out like cells of a brain
with the cities growing over us like the earth
we are saying thank you faster and faster
with nobody listening we are saying thank you
we are saying thank you and waving
dark though it is

Thanks  ~W. S. Merwin


varietal fruits

Here is some bounty I picked up this weekend, at two different light levels and sources:

indirect morning sunlight

late afternoon backlight, aided by yellow kitchen light in front

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