If you're not familiar with micaceous cookware, this may look a little concerning to you. But such pots are made to be used over open flame.

This is my mother's kitchen. She makes stew -- often green chili stew -- in this vessel, now and again. #cooking #cookware

Emailed three invoices and one timecard today. Wish I'd gotten paid for the time it took to calculate my time, mess around with the invoicing app, and send those out.

A month ago my fit-test #N95 wasn't enough to avoid #pandemic record-level infected air on a 90% unmasked Delta Airlines flight, so I'm watching this week's #LinuxFoundation #OpenSource Summit #OSsummit from home, and still coughing.

Enjoy, stay smart, and stay safe.


Once upon a time, people used to have parties like this. At Csaba Polony's house in Oakland, years ago. Csaba (R.I.P.) edited Left Curve Review. His apartment was in the second story of an old house situated, literally, under the 101 overpass near the Oakland waterfront.

Csaba's place (second floor) above a bar. That's not night sky above the house--that's the overpass.

More chatting and talking in Csaba's living room. These old photos have just been sitting around and nobody's ever seen them, so I thought, what the heck, I'll post them here, partly because the partiers were from San Francisco and Oakland's post-beat era literary scene. They were celebrating SF poet laureate Jack Hirschman's (R.I.P.) birthday.

The violinist decided to sit it out in the corner behind the table by the drinks. He's over there somewhere . . .

My , Eulipion Outpost #68 is now live! jeanvengua.substack.com

Featuring: Here and Now (Rest), Six Questions for Linda Lay, Tricia Hersey, TNT Traysikel, Killa Pink, Ben&Ben, Viv Albertine, Wuhan Punk (SMZB, Subs), M.I.A., and the Neptunes.

@Fishercat Bitter melons don't have a rind, as such. I scoop out the seeds and "pulp" and cut the rest into long strips. The latter is what gets pickled.

Clearly this triplex provides homes for three fierce individualists who — after a lengthy legal engagement, a kind of Bleak Apartment House, or Bleak Coop, or Bleak Tenancy in Common — came to an agreement, co-signed and notarized, that each could select their own doorbell system. Also, clearly, this battle took place long ago. The three devices have weathered the passage of time — or more to the point, been weathered by it. At some point, perhaps a new generation of tenants will initiate a reconciliation, and the archaic buzzers will be replaced by a single system, the uniformity of which will reflect a newfound multi-domestic peace. Until then, the begrudging buzzers maintain an uneasy truce.

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