{ darling, my frustration, it gets me where it hurts me most. }

[delga]

Oh god, I was supposed to do this pre-Scotland, I think? Jesus, I always forget my own plans. Anyway, powerof3 asked me: my five favourite things about London; my five favourite recipes; five poems I'd use to introduce someone to poetry; my five favourite icons; and five favourites from things I've written, oh god.

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01. The Queen. Shut up, I totally love the Queen.

02. Piccadilly Circus and the theatre district. I can spend my whole day there and not get bored. Plus, Regent/Oxford Street are around the corner, and Shaftesbury Avenue runs off the other side. And at night! Piccadilly Circus at night is a whole other world.

03. Being able to navigate the tubes like a native. It's a powerful feeling if you grew up in the Fen.

04. The buildings. The architecture ranges from that white stone that populates the city centre to historical sites like Buckingham Palace and St Paul's, to crazier, more modern designs like the Eye, Canary Wharf, the Gherkin, and the still-under-construction Pinnacle. It's so definably London.

05. My people. I have a lot of people in London, most of them clustered in the East End, and whilst they drive me insane, I do love them.

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Oh god, I don't cook. Have some half-assed recipes.

01. Cupcakes. 125g of self-raising flour/caster sugar/margarine, combined together with a teaspoon of vanilla essence and two medium-sized eggs. Whisk until smooth; dole into cases; cook at 180`C for 10-12 minutes/light brown in colour. Easy.

02. Spicy fajitas. Heat oil in a wide/deep pan; sprinkle in cumin seeds. When the oil and seeds start to spit a bit add diced onions, a pinch of salt, a couple pinches of tumeric, chili powder, crushed garlic, crushed fresh chilis. Should be a small spoonful of each, where the spoonhead is the size of the tip of your little finger to the first knuckle. Stir. Let it cook until your onions are sizzling a bit; add sweetcorn to your liking. Stir! Once you can smell the sweetcorn cooking a bit, add sliced peppers (whichever colour; I used mixed ones) and other vegetables - courgettes and eggplant do well enough. I don't tend to bother. Cook at medium temperature until the peppers lose a little of their hardness. Keep stirring! If the oil is not enough, add a little water. Not too much or the favour will dispel. Once the veg is near-enough cooked, add pasta sauce (I hate making my own) and stir. Leave to simmer. Serve in wraps, natch, with cheese etc.

03. Toasted cheese sandwich. Cheddar, mozzarella, green and red peppers chopped into little cubes, chili powder, all between two slices of bread. Butter the outside. Cook on medium heat in a deep frying pan with a lid. Flip to cook both sides. Eat; be filled with deliciousness.

04. Chocolate truffles. Crush oreos in a blender; add Philadelphia cream cheese. Combine until completely mixed. Make balls and roll in melted chocolate. Refrigerate. Ridiculously rich; excellent at Christmas.

05. Stuffed baby peppers. Oh god, I love that recipe. Good to put out on a platter with roasted med veg, croutons, grilled haloumi, and bruschetta.

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I am the worst person to ask this question to because I read poetry for years, knowing that I liked something about it, but never truly warming to it until my late teens. And I'm terrible to ask because, for the most part, I hate poetic canon. I know the worth of the Romantics; I know the worth of the Metaphysicals, and the Pre-Raphelites; I can read that stuff and find pieces that I enjoy. But. But. I hate most of it. I love poetry that is really, really old, or fairly new. Everything in the middle tends to bore me. Sorry. Anyway, I picked five that I think would not be too intimidating. The first three were easy; the last two, not so much. I'd probably tailor the picks to the person, but in the absence of a person, have these.

01. The Lovesong of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot. This is generally an excellent place to start anyone because the language is modern, the ideas are easy to grasp, the poetry is lovely, and the imagery can be quite affecting. Who doesn't recall I have measured out my life with coffee spoons or time for you and time for me / and time yet for a hundred indecisions / and for a hundred visions and revisions / before the taking of a toast and tea?

02. Holy Sonnet 14 (Batter my heart, three-person'd God) by John Donne. Donne's poetry reads the way people think poetry should sound, which is no bad thing, and he's much more traditional than the Prufrock above. But this is a good poem, I think, for getting people to think about form and metaphor and rhythm, without getting them overwhelmed. It's not straightforward, but if you're willing to let the meter take you, you'll be more willing to listen to other things.

03. The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart by Jack Gilbert. a) it is beautiful; b) it goes to prove that there is nothing inherently different or weird or terrifying about poetry. I think it is quite a moving piece, too, and the emotionality of poetry isn't something to shy from. My joy is the same as twelve / Ethiopian goats standing silent in the morning light. It's a whole poem about how metaphors work, about the value of a word, about the value of perspective.

04. Sonnet 141 (In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes) by William Shakespeare. I was going to pick the sonnet from Romeo and Juliet (you know, palm-to-palm is holy palmers' kiss etc.) when I realised, dude, Ten Things I Hate About You kind of fixed the whole issue of poetry with teenagers, so then I had to pick this one. Plus, fuck, someone needs to work out a way to not make Shakespeare look like the devil to teenagers, goddamn. I know a lot of people think we shouldn't study him any more (I--am not in that camp, though I wish there was more diversity in the syllabus) and I know that despite the fact that Shakespearean English is ten times easier than, say, Chaucer, people still find it intimidating. And. It's just not. This poem is: you're not great to look at, but I'm in love with you anyway. I mean, there's more at play there - puns, rhyme schemes, the use of the turn - but, seriously: in love with an unattractive person. The end.

05. The God Forsakes Antony by Constantine P. Cavafy. This is a difficult one to justify but poetry comes from storytelling, and I think you have to give a nod to that somehow. I also think it's a good idea just to pick out something you like and pass it on - something someone may not necessarily know anything about. Sharing is caring, guys.

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This was harder than I thought it would be, especially considering how old my icons are. I love the nuns and penguins one because I can use it for all kinds of ridiculousness, and also for Battlestar Galactica if the mood takes me. The Adrien Brody one is from one of my favourite Lindbergh shoots (the one with Asia Argento), and there is an unwritten rule that I always have to have a Lindbergh-based icon in rotation. The Ros one is quite new, actually, and one of the few icons I've made in the last year that I truly like. I like the way the colouring came out, and the keywords are from Florence and the Machine. The Jethro icon just makes me laugh; I love the scene I capped it from. And finally: the Weeds icon, which I absolutely adore, both for the crop and the colour, and for the dialogue. MLP, you are so wonderfully deadpan.

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I took this to mean fic. God, this list is horrifically self-indulgent.

01. gloves, and the canvas floor (original) is about an orchestra conductor who has spent his life in love with a danseur. It is basically one great list of my musical kinks - string instruments, ballet, pas de deux, listening to classical music with the aid of a damn good subwoofer, and so on. A lot happens in a short space, and I still like it, even though it's been years since I wrote it.

02. cigarettes and teacups (spooks) which is the unsung song of Tessa Phillips and Juliet Shaw. I liked the idea that these two women could have known each other and would have - however grudgingly - enjoyed one another's company, staying the tide together.

03. think sweet thoughts about the river (the interpreter) is a drabble, set before the film, where Sylvia Broome is thinking of the lover she lost. I like it because it's more poem than fic, and I'm pleased with the tone. It's a bit saccharine, but I really liked the idea of being physically kapela, on opposite sides of the river.

04. lloyd's still got them polaroids (life) is about Tidwell's skeeviness and genuine affection for the irrepressible, unfathomable Dani Reese. It was a Yuletide fill for someone who didn't get a fic, and the tone came to me ridiculously easy, and it's full of ridiculous things, mostly Tidwell being a dick but trying too hard at the same time. It's also something that other people seemed to enjoy, too, and that's a rarity.

05. i am not a blind man (ncis) is about Ziva's decision process, and all the things that lead her to Gibbs' hospital room at the end of season 3. Despite canon, I think it still works, and despite the fact that I have issues with chronology, I think it's successful in what I set out to do: define the parameters of Ziva's thought processes, and then explain her actions thereafter. I think it still works. Others can judge that better, though.

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Okay, that was actually exhausting. Only a couple more of these left to do.

Comments

[twincy.livejournal.com]

See, I'd introduce someone to poetry by means of Prufrock, & then go "Okay. There. You're done. Nothing else compares, you may as well stop now."

Oh man, Regent Street. I have a strange fondness? As in, it never seems like a big deal when I'm there but I go through random bouts of pining for it. I stayed in a hostel just off Piccadilly Circus back in January and there is something profoundly amazing about rolling out of bed, taking three steps, and being on Piccadilly. & yes, being the Master of the Tube is an ego-stroke. Even if it is 99% following signs/reading maps.

May have to try some of your recipes (barring cupcakes and oreo truffles which I've already made i the past. With much success!) soon. Also: this meme.

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

& then go "Okay. There. You're done. Nothing else compares, you may as well stop now."
It is an excellent method. I mean, it's pretty much the epitome of poetry as it stands.

It's not like there's even anything special on Regent Street itself, except for how it eventually leads to Oxford Street. It's got, like, a Starbucks, a Costa, National Geographic, H&M, some high end retail, and for some reason is absolutely gorgeous in the sunlight.

I don't understand people who can't work out the tube, either. I mean. The line you're on goes north-south or east-west, and you just...go with it.

Do the meme so I can ask you reams of odd questions! And cupcakes, which I made for the first time in over a year the other day, and which my sister then ate. All of them! There were, like, 48 mini ones, and she ate them!

[delgaserasca.livejournal.com]

I have your song answers coming up but with a caveat.

Also, ugh, sorry about today. Still haven't texted Smiles, but will do.