Last Saturday’s view from the summit of Daisen. 1710 meters above sea level. The coast facing the Japan sea can be seen from afar 😍
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When I was eleven, my brother and sister and I went to visit our father. We traveled to the place he lived a thousand miles away from us and spent a week with him and his wife and one-year-old baby. We hadn’t seen him in five years. One afternoon my father made popcorn and told me I could have as much butter as I wanted on it. “More,” I kept saying as he poured the melted butter over the popcorn in my very own gigantic bowl. “More,” I persisted until the entire pile of it deflated like a popped balloon under the weight of all that liquid. I don’t know what posessed me. I couldn’t bring myself to stop saying more until it was ruined. In the end, there was nothing to do but throw the entire sodden mess in the trash.
I’ve thought about that for years. It’s one of those memories that haunts me. It makes me sadder than a lot of the actually sad memories of my father do. I think it’s because when we ruined that popcorn we were both trying so hard. He was, for once, trying to give me everything I wanted and I was trying to get everything I needed and it was way too late for either one.
There would never be enough butter for me in my father’s house. I had to find it elsewhere in the world. Just like you.
"— columnist “Sugar” on a stellar advice about Family Dysfunction http://therumpus.net/2012/05/dear-sugar-the-rumpus-advice-column-98-monsters-and-ghosts/
Today’s Adventures in Eating: Chicken Piccata, because, Friday. Recipe here: http://www.redshallotkitchen.com/2014/01/chicken-piccata.html
(Source: feaqu, via thecultureofme)
For a moment of sheer cosmic and earthly awe: This might look like a surrealist painting, but it’s a 270-image composite taken over two hours in Indonesia, including the erupting Mount Semeru, star trails in the sky, and a meteor streaking across on the right.
With a sight like this, how is one not to contemplate our longing for permanence and agree with Carl Sagan that nature is the greatest source of spirituality?
This poetic semi-anonymous call to Call Me Ishmael – a wonderful project inviting people to leave voicemail messages about books that changed their lives – celebrates Rachel Sussman’s The Oldest Living Things in the World as a “protest against forgetting.”
More on what makes Sussman’s project so powerful here.
