July 2010
42 posts
“What do you think we should do?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “What do you?”
“I don’t care at all. If you’d like to fish I should write a letter or maybe two and then we could swim before lunch.”
“To be hungry?”
“Don’t say it. I’m getting hungry already and we haven’t finished breakfast.”
...
“The most striking aspect about his cooking was how much joy he derived from feeding people that he loved. I mean, genuine, bursting happiness….This book is meant to channel the ethos of my father by sharing the greatest gifts that he imparted to me. Invest in what’s real. Clean as you go. Drink while you cook. Make it fun. It doesn’t have to be complicated. It will be what it...
“Riding on a city bus along the route that you have taken from your job, from the movies, from a hundred Chinese meals, with the same late sun going down over the same peeling buildings and the same hot smell of water in the aftershower air, can be, in the wake of a catastrophe, either a surrealistic nightmare of the ordinary or a plunge into the warm waters of beautiful routine.”
...
“When I remember that dizzy summer, that dull, stupid, lovely, dire summer, it seems that in those days I ate my lunches, smelled another’s skin, noticed a shade of yellow, even simply sat, with greater lust and hopefulness—and that I lusted with greater faith, hoped with greater abandon.”
michael chabon, mysteries of pittsburgh
