Wednesday, October 05, 2011

Like White on Rice

Funny thing, rice. There was a period of time when I lived in fear of disturbing a cooking pot of rice in any way at all. Taking the top off, for example, just to see how things were going--being a cautious man--was completely verboten. You take the top off, the thinking went, and everything went to hell in a hand-basket.
Hemingway would hate that sentence.
Which one?

The next to last.

I'm done with Hemingway for the moment. So I don't care.
Now I'm much looser with my rice ... just as I am with my painting. In fact, I was staring at some cooking rice last night, top in my hand, stirring it a bit, and everything turned out fine. My friend Chuck uses a two-stage method for cooking his rice. He starts it on the stove-top, waits til it comes to a boil, then puts it in the oven at 325 degrees for 18 minutes. I may have the numbers wrong (18 minutes seems a short time), but that's the gist of the thing.

Me? I'm wondering why he doesn't just leave it on the top of the stove like everybody else.

All of which leads us inexorably to this:

The painting is whiter than it appears here--pure white, in fact--but if I blow it out any more I worry about losing the contrast.

You may notice the change in title. I wanted a more direct parallel to this:

I couldn't be more pleased. Were I the Beatles, this would be my White Album.

The urge to write "The BEATLES" as my first annotation is palpable.

Actually, there is a very real chance that I'll spend part of today transcribing the cogent annotations from the now extinct American Investor 2. If I had a 220z Brown's Whiskey Barrel Aged Porter it would be a hell of a lot more fun.


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