Sunday, June 27, 2010
On Bread and Other Things
I bake my own bread. I started doing it last fall, just after I became vegan and discovered that the only 100% vegan bread that my bakery sells is about $5.00 a loaf. Which is ridiculous. I can buy 5 kilos of flour for that much money, which will keep me rolling in bread for two months. I couldn't keep baking bread throughout the school year - it took to much time - but as soon as summer vacation came around I was up to my elbows in flour again.
I think baking is a creative endeavor. It's a transformation from one state to another - from a pile of ingredients to something beautiful and delicious. Everybody loves fresh bread, when I worked at a bakery the loaves would sell twice as fast if they were still warm. And it's not that difficult to make bread; all one really requires is patience. There's something lovely and meditative about the process. The kneading and the waiting, and then the kneading and the waiting. Then you stick it in the oven and wait some more. I always feel so much calmer after I'm done, more centred, more myself.
In other news, last week I made a necklace. See, a year or so ago I started wearing a collar all the time. Part of it was just because I like the aesthetic of it (still do, really), but it was also because I was just getting over an abusive relationship and the idea of self-ownership appealed to me. I was coming to terms with the fact that I can't count on other people to look after me - I have to look out for myself, and care for myself, and listen to my own limits. I wore that collar, and the next one I made, almost every day. However, it's gotten to the point where wearing a collar is impractical. It's too warm; it'll make me sweat all of the time; I can't wear it at work. So I decided to create something smaller, and more work-friendly.
I found some beads, a key, hemp, and a charm shaped like a lock. A couple hours later I was good to go. It's still really itchy because the hemp is so new, but other than that it's perfect.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
new drawing, old poem
I am not a poet
Nor an artist -
call me my name or nothing
Even that seems
to bunch and itch
Somedays,
you can't scratch in public.
Ill-fitt, you call me
I twist to hear,
but these metaphors aren't mine.
You aren't talking to me
anyway
Don't call my name:
I am nothing
And nothing cannot be grasped
in sound.
I'll disappear,
A hermit in shadow
Madperson no one sees.
Nothing.
Don't call me labels,
Don't -
Don't call me.
I am not an artist.
I am not comprised of words.
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