Goodbye, field tomatoes. I’m crying like Jimmy Swaggart. *** Every profession has evangelism — faith, chefs, books, sourdough, movies, tech, vintners, politics, and clothes — with preachers selling their way and handing out labels like scout badges. We’re all wrapped up in it. A friend sent me this fascinating interview by Nahlah Ayed with David Samson to add to the discussion about tribalism from last week. One of his suggestions is an offering custom-made for Thanksgiving — focus on “pro-social, face-to-face relationships.” Gather and feast, people. Do it again soon. Exercise your hospitality skills. Invite people in. *** I felt dread and panic reading posts of people unable to evacuate from Florida this week because of poverty, isolation, incarceration, illness, or disability. There’s a grassroots culture of national and local mutual aid on social media. BlueSky is reminding me of the goodness of Bluebird Twitter. It’s a relief to see a virtual community, “the helpers,” jump into action. (There are better moderation tools to stem toxic invasions from the evil believers — the evangelic trolls — who try to follow me with fake Keanu Reeve’s accounts.) Maybe you have friends in Florida starting completely over or calling it quits. Climate migrants leave a place in a hurry and never look back because of too much first-hand experience. Think of it for a moment. Even prepared, there are hard decisions to make at the last minute. Imagine the run on supplies in the few days before. Then spending hours on a highway in a long chemtrail of taillights hoping there’s enough gas to get to safety. This kind of stress is an increasingly common experience for us. Cole Gregson writing for Oxford American about North Carolina. Being a helper first and a writer next. Doing rural wellness checks and spreading the word of great need. All the way to the end showing us the spirit of Thanksgiving. What if every time you turn on an engine this week, you thought for a moment about global coastal and island citizens losing everything? My tribe has advocated for Mother Nature since way back. I dug the button below out of one of my precious tins. I wore it on my jean jacket in Katimavik when I was seventeen — in this together. *** I turned some whipped M-S Dairy cream cheese into a fabulous salad dressing. I shook these ingredients in a small jar: cream cheese, white wine vinegar, avocado oil, garlic puree, lemon zest, sugar, salt, MSG, and pepper. Bring to room temperature if refrigerated. At one of my local markets, there was a sign advertising newly harvested carrots for $1.99/lb. How could I resist? I made a sweet, crisp julienne of one using a mandoline, added pea shoots, and tossed it with the dressing. So. Damn. Fine. *** A harrowing story from APTN. Basically a re-enactment of our entire history — the experience since the first invasion. Another thing sent to destroy the First Nation’s culture. The storyteller is reporter Kenneth Jackson and he shows up brave, demonstrates respect at every step, and cares for people. “…and had no idea what it felt like to be queen in this castle of dissolute men.” The Anita Pallenberg documentary is deep-fried perfection — extraordinary and bittersweet. Scarlett Johansson narrates Pallenberg’s journal entries. The footage is breathtaking and it’s revelatory in terms of her relationship with Keith and the band. So much of their enduring style and culture came through her, a vivacious and magnetic Euro girl. Keith is a whole lot of things and a large side of tender. Their children are brave, brilliant, and candid. Prepare for devastation and love — the Kate Moss finish is delicious. Kudos to directors Alexis Bloor and Svetlana Zill. When I was a kid, I had a portable record player and a small pile of Jackson Five, Osmond Brothers, and Beatles 45s. My most prized possession because music was the first place I felt free. *** Music notes are the crème Chantilly of communication. The Oliva Dean felt like a snug fit with Keith serenading Anita. The two songs are like parallel parking in sunny Villefranche-sur-Mer. I’m am basically supersaturaed like confiseur at this point with Leon Bridges. An evangelic sound. 202319692024Comments are closed.
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