La Cuisine d'Amour

'How about a pinch of This?'

'Only Cowards cook on low, and Clyde never talks shit.'

'No man is lonely while eating potato and feta cheese Latkes.'

very merry?

on Christmas Eve my dad and I were kicked out of the house to entertain ourselves elsewhere while my mother and little sister cleaned and cooked and made things looks presentable. apparently my dad's and my squabbling does little good for Christmas preparations, and we just get under my mum's busy feet.
I've sent my cards, wrapped my gifts and nestled them between the branches of the tree. But I still don't like Christmas. It's the one day a year when people feel obliged to be happy, even though they may be swamped in debt, seduced by disdainful retailers and their sparkly window displays, overrun by condescending relatives asking personal questions, plagued by ex-lovers with their new floozies, being fat and getting fatter, and without the figurative guts to do anything about it.
A year ago I was in a small town in the South of France, about forty minutes from the city of Montpellier. We had dinner on Christmas Eve. Fondue, baguette, fillet, plenty of wine. It was bitterly cold outside. On Christmas Day we left for the Alps, a five hour drive into the heart of mountain territory, where we would spend the next week skiing and snowboarding. New Year was one I'd never experienced before. The only discotheque and Michael Jackson's Thriller, a girl at the bar trying to start a fight with me, with a language barrier to make it all very confusing. We stayed there until 6am, eating croissants for breakfast surrounded by passed-out drunks and spent partygoers, with confetti, streamers and other festivities strewn about the floor.

Also, I got my Christmas wish. Clyde will be home on Sunday, January 2nd. Over a week before he was due back. I can almost feel his return. This is when airports are friendlier places, but only at the Arrivals terminal. And this time, in the flesh.

to me, the Christmas tree will always be 30 feet tall.

• aromatherapy oils
• multivitamins
• a pedicure every fortnight for a year
• a sandwich press
• Toaster Strudel
• an alarm clock
• Edgar Allan Poe's Complete Poetical Works
• a tiffany's ring-watch
• tickets to see Imogen Heap
• a string of pearls
• a cashmere sweater
• Life, by Keith Richards
• a subscription to one small seed magazine
• a Swatch
• Clyde

sightings



regulationpartypose



clyde&i. thunda spotted us at fez. woo. aren't we infamous?





clara&I



to wade my naked feet in miracles

                                                        [some reasons to fill your day as they did mine]

• buying a pre-loved dress from a second-hand shop and soaking it in bleach overnight so that, when rinsed and wrung and aired out in the sun (that rhymed), it comes out crisp and white and good as new
• bottled evian
• toasted tramezzinis from urban salad bar at the kloof street spar. (that rhymed again)
• blue foundation's eyes on fire
• watching old baywatch re-runs, laughing and exclaiming how so very 'nineties' it all was, what with the rows of boobs/pecs, whiny guitar drifts, medio acting and of course, the Hoff's growly presence.
• johnson's baby oil and its many properties
• chocolate pots from the deli.
• the downward dog yogic position [ this is not dodgy ]

         hope you enjoyed my boring-ass blog list. x

frightened and a friend

as you can see i've made over this entire goddamn blog. i didn't think it'd come out as awesome. thank you DIY internet. you have made the day of a technically ignorant blogger.

i don't like talking about myself, because in all honesty i am not that interesting. i'm pretty ordinary in most ways, i'd say. if i made an entire blog in which i spoke exclusively about stuff i did over the weekend, well, i'd probably slap myself eventually and tell me to shut up. i'd rather talk about new york, or cuss words, or what happened at the bus stop. or what clyde said and made me laugh. we wouldn't want to be a brat or a vain fashion blogger now would we?

right, so besides all that nonsense, i would like to say that a little compassion goes a long way. i made a friend yesterday. i seem to get myself in these situations where i pick up frightened little birds from the middle of the university avenue and carry them to class wrapped in a jersey. i tried not to draw too much attention to the poor creature but when it twitched and tried to free itself it was hard not to notice. i took her to the bird sanctuary and she (frances) ended up okay. just a little worse for wear.

scaredycat

I have been underwater all day and I feel I need to write about it.

sometimes things get too much, even when you tell yourself you can handle them. my expectations of myself are weighing me down, pressing on my shoulders and choking me like water in my throat. my legs feel weightless, as if i were walking in limbo. i can't cry. i don't know what it is but i can't cry. i can talk myself into a frenzy and then, at a sudden loss for words, struggle to convince myself otherwise.

after the interview i had to take a moment to recollect myself. it's never as bad as it seems. no one is out to get me. i can relax. it's over. it's up to them now. i know that i must not doubt myself, whatever the outcome. i must take deep breaths. i must not see every other person as a threat. at that moment i just let clyde hold me and tell me i did everything i could do and that everything would be okay. i still feel like the next few days are going to be nervous ones, as i wait for an answer. i am caught in a mesh of conflicting feelings, some telling me yes, this is too exciting for words, others wishing to be relieved. i just can't wait for this to be over.

how can i help it?

i am nothing but a flighty sparrow.

a home i can compare

it's been a while since europe. i miss it. home doesn't quite compare.



clyde and i went to greenmarket on friday night to a place on the square for some music. i was surprised to find it relatively unpretentious (for cape town) and pretty well-turned out, even though the clientele were mostly one small seedlings who had nice hair, or a hat, and shiny pockets.


the square is pretty at night. there's a church, like the ones in france, and cobbly stones. only because it's africa you can smell bergie piss. haha. but besides that, i found it charming.

one day when i am back in europe i will be home, home i can compare.

i guess i just want to feel at home in myself. maybe craving europe is my running away from reality. reality sucks. i want paris.