I’ve declared Wednesdays “Off-Line Wednesdays.” No Internet, no Facebook, no Flickr, no blog, no Google reader, no email, nothing. No radio in the car, only a phone call if it’s urgent. Why? I don’t know, I just need to hear myself think, ’cause sometimes there’s so much noise that I forget what my thoughts sound like. I forget what God sounds like. I forget what my imagination sounds like, what it tries to tell me throughout the day.

For my inaugural day, I planned a few hours of silence and solitude at Point Dume in Malibu.

There, as I sat on the wood benches overlooking the calm, placid Pacific, I contemplated the winds, the cliffs, the pelicans and seagulls that glided over the briny, blue water, searching for fish. Turquoise waves billowed over the reddish kelp, crashing over the rocks in a frothy whiteness. Sea lions perched themselves on some nearby islands, sunning themselves, letting out an occasional bark, which echoed the occasional clank of the slowly bobbing buoy. The vast ocean was as calm as a small pond yesterday.

gradient

On land, lizards scampered from shady place to shady place under the green vegetation that climbed over the sandy cliffs. Butterflies flitted amongst the occasional yellow daisy and pale orange buttercup, looking for nectar. Cacti punctuated the denser shrubs and dried up flowering plants offset the verdant landscape with a dusty brown.

It was a beautiful and peaceful morning. I’d like to say that I figured out the meaning of life or that I had deep spiritual thoughts. I didn’t really. I enjoyed the fresh air, I enjoyed the silence, or at least lack of man-made noise. I thought of a few story ideas, cleared my head. It was really excellent. I communed with the lizards, one coming within an inch of my foot—although it scurried away the moment I moved, but I almost stepped on the poor little guy.

Once I got back home, my day proceeded on as normal. It was strange not reaching for my laptop and just cracking it open and logging on, but I resisted and I’m glad I did, and I’m looking forward to my weekly ritual. My evening at the Viper Room with Molly stands in stark contrast to the rest of my peaceful day. I was going to try and segue it into this post, but I won’t—it’s a post all in of itself.

From a chat session Rachel and I had today…
1:59 PM
me: i found it while i was procrastinating this weekend
2:00 PM weekend is a hard word to type
weke
wekeked
wekekend
weekeend
harght
weekekdn
wke
haha
i’m just cracking myself up
weekend
there we go!
2:01 PM Rachel: is this what you do to keep yourself entertained when you’re stalking Jenna? (Editor’s note: inside joke!)
2:02 PM me: no, jeez!
try typing weekend really fast
you’ll mess up, i promise
Rachel: weekend
that was easy
me: oh shut up
Rachel: weekend
weekend
weeekend (see, she did mess up!)
weekend
weekend
nah nah
me: alright you don’t have to show off!
Rachel: lol
me: i’m blogging this when i get home
Rachel: which part of it?
The stalking part or the weekend part?
2:03 PM me: the weekend part
Rachel: ooh yay! I will be on your blog again!
MUWAHHA
me: i’m not sure the department of homeland security would be too thrilled to read about the stalking part
Rachel: lol
maybe you’d get a visit from hot secret service agents!!

I’ve been falling behind on my food blogging lately.
Been falling behind on a lot of things lately, as I get last-minute work done on these final project—but I’m so close I can taste it. Just another 36 hours to go.

Anyway, a couple weeks back now, I made two things that were not new to me. I’d made them before, last year, as I was just discovering a love for all things baking. As it was, these both came in handy as last-minute recipes and were as crowd pleasing this time around as they were the first time, so in the back pocket of recipes they shall be put, ready to be pulled out at a moment’s notice.

The first is the “winning the hearts and minds cake,” or flourless chocolate cake from Orangette.

I bake a lot of things from Orangette’s website. She’s got impecable taste and everything I’ve made from her site has been reliably good. The first time I made this I took it to my old job at the financial services firm and the guys there scarfed it down pretty quickly. One of my bosses, Vladi, had three pieces all on his own, and it’s with this cake that I began to realize there was something to my kitchen talents. This time when I made it, I think I may have taken it out of the oven just a little too soon, as the innermost insides of this were still pretty gooey when we sliced it open at Christina and Steve’s later that night. Oh well, no one complained, so I won’t either.

Second is this great and easy to make banana bread with chocolate chips and cinnamon sugar from Everyone Likes Sandwiches.

banana bread

Okay, this is honestly a joke when it comes to being known as a “breakfast food,” but it’s got bananas AND chocolate—what could be better, except to throw a little peanut butter into the mix? The first time I made this I took the still-warm pan to Ludmilla’s house where were managed to wolf down almost the entire thing as we stood in her kitchen. The chocolate chips just slightly melted and the cinnamon sugar creating a crisp shell on top…are you drooling on your keyboard, yet? Amber recently had a NightLight fund-raising event at our house so I whipped up another batch for the volunteers and guests. I froze the leftover and munched on it the days I was allowed sugar. All I can say is “yum.”

May: not quite spring, not quite summer—although you’d never know it in these parts. The weather gets a little warmer, the days get a little longer, the sangria flows a little more freely, you laugh a little bit louder. Barbeques, open windows—party music is in order this time of year. Here’s what’ll be on heavy rotation in these parts for the next few weeks…

Beck—Ghettochip Malfunction (Hell Yes) [8bit Remix]: You can find this one on Guerolito, the remix follow-up album to Guero, his album that came out a few years ago. Spoken voices, samples of Japanimation, crazy video game bleeps and boops, all while a crunchy synth beat pumps underneath. A hot robot-rock dance track for sure.

Beck—Missing: More Beck? Yep, more Beck. As my cousin Linda asked me on Facebook—who’s Beck? I told her her kids would probably know. Missing is on the aforementioned Guero. I heard it recently for the first time late at night in the car. I was entranced by the strings and percussive, almost tropical rhythm and it wasn’t until a little later that it occurred to me that the guy singing was Beck. I bought it off iTunes as soon as I got back home.

Duffy—Mercy: The first song I heard from Duffy was a track called Warwick Street. I still haven’t been able to find that ’60s-sounding track anywhere, but not to worry—her whole album sounds like it was released in the 1960s. From her photos, Duffy seems to be about 16 years old, and her soulful voice bellies the fact that she’s a blond British bird. Think Amy Winehouse without the tattoos and crack-whore air. Mercy has the flare of Phil Spector’s “wall of sound” style—it might only be reminiscent, but it’s definitely there.

Jamie Lidell—A Little Bit of Feel Good: More soul music from white people! That’s called “blue-eyed soul” for those of you who don’t know. Jamie is an old favorite, and this is a new song. Upon first listen you may think he’s Stevie Wonder—or maybe not, but this song will definitely have you dancing in your living room, guaranteed.

The Black Keys—Same Old Thing: The Black Keys latest album Attack and Release was produced by Danger Mouse (more on him later). The results sound like blues that’s been relayed out into space and then transmitted back to earth through crunchy sonic airwaves. The entire album is wonderful, with a White Stripe-y vibe to it, sans Jack White’s irritating caterwaul.

Gnarls Barkley—Run (I’m a Natural Disaster): Oh, Gnarls Barkley, how will you ever live up to the deliciousness of your hit song Crazy? Well, you probably never will, but that’s okay, your blend of hip-hop, neo-soul, funk, rock, and electronica is still damned tasty. Hearing them for the first time in Prague, dancing around Hanka’s apartment after a long night’s and early morning’s carousing, I was hooked. The sheer psychedelic weirdness of their songs, the relentless danceable beats, often times belies the dark, moody and downright depressing lyrics.

Vampire Weekend—A-Punk: Nothing witty or clever to say about this song. It’s short, it’s fun, it’s melodic. Just dance, monkeys, dance!

The Talking Heads—This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody): Gotta throw an oldie in here. Can David Bryne run for President? I’d vote for him. This track is mellower than a lot of Talking Head’s really well-known songs—Psycho Killer, Life During Wartime, Girlfriend’s Better—but it’s true ’80s synthesized fake-flute melody casts such a laid-back, funky vibe, you can help but smile.

I got smacked in the head this morning. Not literally, figuratively.

I was reading through Jeremiah and found a verse that I remember reading long ago and writing down on an index card, expressly for the purpose of remembering, but clearly—forgot. It goes like this:

Let not the wise man boast about his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or th rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight.

Hmm, yes. In all my talk recently about writing and disappointing and in all my supposed wisdom, I think I should just shut up now…