Problem/Solution/Com- plication

Problem: I can't articulate what love is.

Solution: It's like a flower.

Complication: Ugh, lame.

Solution: It's like a flower within a flower.

Complication: Well, for lesbians maybe.

Solution: It's like shower mold.

Complication: No, it's not like shower mold.

Solution: Are you sure? Think about it. They both sometimes spontaneously appear after warm moist activities. They can both be killed with bleach too.

Complication: Too much scrubbing.

Solution: It's like the swelling of a popular movement to overthrow a dictator.

Complication: Did you see the pictures of Gaddafi?

Solution: It's like Summer daybreak over the heart: a bare rose-tinged glow nurtured into bliss and wonder, growing hotter, searing, cloying, exhausting, consuming everything with its midafternoon heat, and then it slows, grows softer, pink and purple and orange, excruciating in its beauty, its inevitable exit intolerable, and then the last light and then nothing...

Complication: Hmmm.

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Sunday (anticipated)

I stand in the middle of the living room. The sun makes rectangles on the carpet, warm like a warm dog. This is the purity of the present.

I dream. I feel my stomach plunge, recognize my faults and my kindness. I cherish the confusion, the mystery of why I am. But I am hungry.

I grill sausages.

A Nicer Way of Saying

The puzzle for today is...

__________ is a nicer way of saying __________.

Of course, this is the only puzzle game I run, and it's somewhat like those crosswords without numbers, only much easier and less pointless.

My solution today is "Would you like some cheese grits?" is a nicer way of saying "We don't serve bagels, and I hate you, Yankee."

The funny part is that I actually wanted cheese grits all along.
I just didn't know it at the time.

Now your turn.

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Sprout's Sexual Cafe: Steaks and Potatoes and Corn

A lot of bloggers like to write about what they cook. I do too. I'm like them. I conform. No reason to look twice at me. I'm not doing anything illegal or immoral or some other i-word. Interesting, maybe.

The reason for the title is one day I was olive oiling up some chicken breasts to be cooked, and I like to get into that shit, and to my friends something about oil and breasts evoked sex. Who knew? So they made a joke about how there should be this restaurant called Sprout's Sexual Cafe. So, in turn, this will be a new feature where I share my recipes and techniques to bring gastronomic delight and maybe other sorts of delights. Enjoy. Or don't.

Steaks:

1) Buy the steaks, grass-fed, for that is the right thing to do. Cows do not naturally eat corn.

2) Pick three spices at random, use only slightly compared to your use of salt and pepper. This will give you the illusion of being a gourmet. Massage the spices into the steaks as you would your lover's foot, if you were weird enough to use the word "lover" and/or eat a human foot.

3) Delegate the responsibility for grilling the steaks to the man with the most facial hair in the room. He will do a good job. If he does not, forcibly shave him. On the face, you pervert.

Potatoes:

1) Fetch the red potatoes from whatever obscure cabinet I've hid them in. Peel them, because they've no doubt grown buds from their eyes through my neglect. Quarter them, olive oil them, and place on parchment paper on a cookie sheet or rimmed baking pan. Salt and pepper and rosemary liberally.

2) Set the oven to 450. It seems hot, I know, and that's because it is hot. It's so hot I almost can't stand it.

3) Cook for 40 minutes or so, turning once or twice or thrice, depending on how compulsive you are. If you are very compulsive, seek therapy. After done, tent with aluminum foil to keep them warm. Save the aluminum foil to use as a hat.

4) The potatoes should be a little bit blistered. Blisters are delicious, but not so delicious that you should omit using an oven glove to remove those potatoes. Place them in a serving bowl and butter them until glistening.

Corn:

1) Open a can of corn, drain, and put it in the microwave. Set the timer for two minutes. Allow your fingers to trace edges of the start button. Smile. Take the can of corn out of the microwave and empty it into a microwaveable dish. Warm that up. By that time your bearded friend should be serving the steaks. Ha! You've collaborated on a wonderful meal.

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