Darby Strong

Playing point. Delivering the rock.

Word of the Week

While watching a documentary on Paul Bowles last night, I was reminded how much I truly adore language. I love interesting words, even if only in the way they sound. Or if they are just fun to say. Like Zeitgeist. Say it. It’s fun!

So, I thought it would be interesting to showcase a word a week. I want to concentrate on words I hear other people say during that week, which will hopefully help me to be a better listener. Plus, it would keep me disciplined enough to add at least one post a week to this blog. Or at least, that’s the idea at the moment.

Like I said, I was watching this great film, called Let It Come Down: The Life of Paul Bowles, and a fellow composer/author – Ned Rorem – used the word slapdash. Is that not the greatest word ever? Slapdash…let it wash over you.

The word was used to describe Bowles’ musical education, and I’m not sure if there could possibly be a more perfect word to convey what Rorem was trying to get across. He said more with slapdash than he could have said with 10 adverbs AND adjectives combined.

slap·dash
–adverb
1. in a hasty, haphazard manner: He assembled the motor slapdash.
–adjective
2. hasty and careless; offhand: a slapdash answer.
[Origin: 1670–80; slap1 (adv.) + dash1]

Finally, I Know Why

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Ever since I’ve moved to the land of outlet malls (well disguised outlet malls, thankfully), I find myself especially drawn to the Banana Republic outlet.

This may not be odd to most, but I never quite found myself to fit the “B.R.” demographic. Ever since I realized I was never gonna take that African Safari and make like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa back in 8th Grade, the “B.R.” dream of wearing khaki short suits fell by the wayside.

The original draw was that this place has really GREAT deals, and clothes that, mostly, fit me well. Add to that the fact that my black and more funky clothes never quite worked within the Southern environment (not the only thing that doesn’t work, but I digress…), and I found myself more and more drawn to “B.R.” to fulfill my functional, mostly business, fashion needs.

Now that I work from home and don’t find much need for business casual clothes, I still find my car heading straight to the local Banana Republic. I have also found that some of the things I think are FANTASTIC for the brief moment while I’m in the store turn out to lack that luster once I get them home. But this week, I experienced an epiphany to explain my (unknown) initial draw to the place.

The epiphany is this, dear friends. The music. EVERY time I am in there, I am groovin’ on the tunes. I sing, hum, and even sometimes semi-groove – publicly – to the music that is played. EVERY TIME. Of course, this is where I fit the demographic. Which seems a tad disconnected to the clothes, I might add, but I think I realized that I subconsciously go there for the music. Because in the last 4 visits, I have purchased nothing, but not been disappointed in the least by not finding anything.

Instead, I have come away, almost gleefully, not even realizing why until the other day. When I was all, like, what is this song? I know this song? But it’s not the song I think it is. But it is. All this within the first 5 notes…and it is a remake of one of my favorite Ryan Adams songs, called Amy. And I have discovered Mark Ronson in the process, which I am quite thankful for. This is an incredibly beautiful song, originally, and this remake takes it to a different level. I would put the MP3 here for your listening pleasure, but it is SO INVOLVED (especially since I only have the MP4 version, etc., etc….)

Go get it. It’s 2 bucks, if you get the original Ryan Adams’ version AND the Mark Ronson remake. SO WORTH IT. Trust me.

P.S. I was also re-invigorated with New Order’s Love Vigilantes during my recent Banana discovery, too. Reminded me of my high-school friend (and prom date), Matt Vidmar. He owned and sported the classic Substance all-white t-shirt back in the day. I love the 80’s.

Foodie Files

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Our relationship with food is an interesting delve into passion, survival, hedonism, disease, and social interaction, among other things. I love food, and although I am a picky eater and trying desperately not to be, cooking is my chill zone. I love to get into that rhythm, where the timing is like a precise and lovely mambo, with the aroma of spices and sauces wafting through the space, mixing with the music playing in the background. Ahhhh, the kitchen, that hearth of home that everyone gravitates to, especially once they are drunken.

The biggest joy I derive from cooking is seeing the ones I love enjoy what I’ve made. Although I probably rebelled against this seemingly gender based role, one reeking of June Cleaver goodness, (not goddess), I eventually just allowed myself to do what I found joy in. Cooking fits that bill, and I have since been re-inspired with the hopes of helping our household to be more vegetarian.

While I have been around vegetarians and vegans since my late teens, I grew up on the Irish cooking of a very meat and potatoes based diet. (Still, it was GREAT food). This has made it a challenge for me to find my way towards doing things creatively with vegetables, so that even I would enjoy it, a kid who hated all vegetables except corn. (Which is a grain, anyway…) All that said, I will likely not want to pass up the amazing taste of Argentinian Beef and a fresh Chimichurri sauce every once in a while.

While I work my way away from meat and have always loved falafel, tempeh, and pasta, introducing TVP and tofu (I can’t get past the texture) is tricky for me. Still, I love the way I’m feeling after only a few days of eating some hearty vegetarian fare. Not to mention the enormous environmental benefits to be had from consuming less meat.

Plus, I have been infatuated with the idea of self-reliance forever. And if I am fulfilled with a vegetarian diet, I don’t ever have to confront the killing of 4 legged animals, an act I am incredibly freaked out by. Unless, of course, it’s all wrapped in a nice plastic cellophane, removing me completely from the enormous miracle that it took to get that cow, chicken, turkey, and pig so easily in front of me. Geez, how I long to respect and appreciate the food that I consume much more than I presently do.

Over the past couple of days, I’ve made a vegetarian moussaka and peanut noodles with mixed veggies in a lemon-infused chile sauce. I’m going to make some baba ghanouj, curried celery soup, griddled pineapple and mango with vanilla yogurt, and a sweet potato roulade. All of these wonderful dishes come from a cookbook I picked up a couple of months ago, apparently when the seed was planted, somewhat unbeknownst to me. It’s called, plainly, Vegetarian, and is put together by Nicola Graimes. I can’t find it anywhere online, probably because it’s one of those mass produced books commissioned by Borders Books or something. The 126 page intro, with fabulous pictures, food anecdotes, nutritional factoids and preparation info is broken down into categories and makes for a tantalizing foray into the world of gourmet vegetarian cooking.

Bon Appetit!