Wednesday, September 8, 2010


It happened again.  This morning while fixing the early coffee, I forgot the coffee pot.   Noticing the pressure sound away,  the Krups espresso machine was right,  there it was.  A puddle of  dark stimulating liquid on the table.

This reminds me of the silly islanders without ever tasting the tens of varieties of this grain, claim proudly that puercorican coffee is the best in the world, or tobbacco or whatever,
except sugar cane there is NONE.

One coffee related anecdote comes to mind.  My Hebrew landlord, in Wyckoff street four buildings down Smith street, then a dump (1992/95), now elegant, expensive and chic.

Scott Oskow-Schoenbrod, was his name.  He was fond of my coffee and looking at the machine brand, stated that his mother will not appreciate if he bought one.  So he got a huge commercial  Italian. He never paid the interest on the deposit when I moved to Manhattan.

This brings me to the tittle. There is a book with it, by Jonathan Culler, Cornell University Press.  Gary Boudreau was the teacher in UMass, one of the best I encountered in my pilgrimage in four universities.

At any rate, most people take gardening as something trivial, a hobby or distraction.  Some feeble minded jerks/jerkettes, declare that I have too much 'spare time' in my hands.  The scary part of the above, is that a most ignorant person in terms of academic background/exposition, degree, will assume the exact same position of a phd, bachellor or masters.

Screw them says I.  I have been pondering of finding a way to see the garden, virtual or real, beyond what I find around.

Linguistics will provide the model, I am not out of my mind, really, look at it as an academic meaningless exercise, after all, that is what they do.

Before getting into it, when have you herd, or read that a poet, novelist, sculptor, painter, singer, has too much time to spare?

to be continued

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