Yes, Chef. You Deserve this Memoir

Marcus Samuelsson. I know you've heard of him...no? Maybe you need to identify him by a picture:

He is a renowned chef who has been featured on CNN, Top Chef, Today Show and Iron Chef America (among other shows). To me, his name became of importance when he served as the guest chef for the first state dinner of our POTUS (President of the United States for our less than savvy readers). The dinner was mostly vegetarian dishes, and being the wannabe vegetarian that I am, it caught my attention. Since then, he's done a million other things including opening a restaurant called The Red Rooster.

This is definitely the best time for him to pen a memoir. He's no ordinary chef. His food is phenomenal, of course, but his journey and backstory will make you appreciate his food (if you ever go to his restaurant) ten times more.

Snippet from Amazon.com:

It begins with a simple ritual: Every Saturday afternoon, a boy who loves to cook walks to his grandmother’s house and helps her prepare a roast chicken for dinner. The grandmother is Swedish, a retired domestic. The boy is Ethiopian and adopted, and he will grow up to become the world-renowned chef Marcus Samuelsson. This book is his love letter to food and family in all its manifestations.

Marcus Samuelsson was only three years old when he, his mother, and his sister—all battling tuberculosis—walked seventy-five miles to a hospital in the Ethiopian capital city of Addis Adaba. Tragically, his mother succumbed to the disease shortly after she arrived, but Marcus and his sister recovered, and one year later they were welcomed into a loving middle-class white family in Göteborg, Sweden. It was there that Marcus’s new grandmother, Helga, sparked in him a lifelong passion for food and cooking with her pan-fried herring, her freshly baked bread, and her signature roast chicken. From a very early age, there was little question what Marcus was going to be when he grew up.

GO BUY IT!!!!

National Anthem - Vote for A$AP and Lana

It was in January that I said A$AP Rocky was already going to pluck my nerve because he was getting too much recognition too fast. I needed him to give me more evidence of his greatness before I could jump on that bandwagon. In the past six months, I've dissected his album LiveLoveA$AP, I've watched all the interviews of him and his crew and I've tried to understand his purpose in hip hop. I'm getting better at not passing judgment on the first round. Now I think it's safe to say...he's got it.

National Anthem.

A song by Lana Del Rey featuring Rocky, but not in the way of a typical rap feature, oh no. Rocky isn't providing 8-bars to spice up her song or give her any genre credibility. Lana has her lane covered on her own. [Side note: I was sold on her talents with Blue Jeans and Born to Die]

This new video has the definition of creative splashed across it. A$AP is a loose representation of President JFK and Lana is his first lady. The themes of interracial relationships, sex, politics and history are so damn convincing. What a great way to start your morning right?

Farenheit 451 Author Dies

I know, I know. Ray Bradbury has authored many more novels than just Farenheit 451, but honestly, you know in your heart that this was his best. I read that novel in middle school and I distinctly remember thinking what a tragedy it would be if physical books were no longer a part of our society. Now that I think about it...I probably shed a tear or two. Okay maybe that was a bit much. Anyway, rest in peace Ray Bradbury, and trust, I personally will make sure that your make believe, science fiction world of burning books never happens in my lifetime.



I ALWAYS do my part...

Random writing prompt

I found a writing prompt the other day and decided to challenge myself. A prompt is when you are given a story setup and must complete an X number word count story. For example: Your a little girl, whose mother sent you on a journey to your grandmom's house. Along the way, you come face to face with a big, bad wolf...see? Anyway, I got a prompt and wrote this little quickie in about half hour. Let me premise though...I haven't mastered endings.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to clean week-old spaghetti sauce from marble kitchen floors. But here I am, scraping away on my hands and knees. God Dylan! Can’t you learn to wipe your spills when they happen?” A 10-year old Dylan sat atop the counter island watching his mother utilize all her fancy yet impractical clean up gadgets, while licking the last of his Snickers ice cream bar.
“It makes absolutely no sense I tell you!” She said then removed her smock and gloves. She pushed her hair back, out of her face and straightened her dress before answering the doorbell.
“Good afternoon ma’am, are you Lila Wright?”
“No I’m not, sorry.” Although she noticed the stretch Maybach and at the end of the driveway, it didn’t peak her curiosity enough to let this tall, dark suited man continue his conversation. She shut the door. He rang the bell two more times.
“Yes?” She asked irritatingly.
“Does Lila Wright live here? I’m sure we are at the right address.”
“And I’m sure I know who I am. What is your business anyway?” She peeked behind him at the window of the Maybach slowing rolling down but it was too far away to make out the figure exactly.
“It’s confidential and Mr. Washington does not like to wait. If you know where we can find this woman, perhaps she is a neighbor or something?”
“Mr. Washington who?” Now curiosity was getting the best of her.
“Denzel Washington.”
“Wait. Did you say Lila? I’m sorry, but it’s pronounced Lee-la. The ‘i’ has an ‘e’ sound.”
“It does?”
“Yes, yes, I’m so sorry that you had to play such a hard game of name that girl.” She giggled. “It’s just that people always mess up my name and I never know who to trust. Why don’t you come in, or do you want me to come out?” She was clearly winging it but thoroughly enjoying it. Denzel Washington! Imagine that! If what was happening was seriously a reality and not the outcome of cleaning chemical fumes floating around in her brain, then Lila…Leela…Wright was who she was about to be.
“Since you and Mr. Washington are scheduled for a 12:30 lunch, if you’re ready then we can head out.”
“Oh. Oh, okay, yes. Let me grab my things and I’ll, oh my, lunch? Okay, give me a minute.” She left the door open and bee-lined for the stairs. Dylan had come around the corner, down the hallway and witnessed the whole thing before taking the last bite of his ice cream bar. The tall man returned to the car and informed that “Lila” would be out soon. Upstairs, she could be heard stomping, yelling and flinging things about. Three minutes later, Dylan met her at the bottom of the stairway with sticky hands and chocolate on his cheeks.
“Honey, oh my god! Do you know who is in that car out there? Do you know this is mommy’s dream come true? All that praying has finally paid off and that $200 I gave the church last week…woohoo!”
“But mom you’re not the girl they’re looking for.”
“This is a good time to teach you a very important lesson.” She bent down and grabbed his shoulders. “Sometimes, like that spaghetti sauce, you have to enjoy what’s in front of you and worry about cleaning up the messes later. Even if I don’t get any further than down the block, I will never regret this lie. Ha ha!” She kissed his forehead and rushed out the door.

**By the way here was my prompt:

The person of your dreams shows up on your doorstep, asking if you'd like to go out for coffee. You are suprised and confused, but you say yes. At the coffee shop as he/she is talking, you discover that he/she thinks you are someone else. Instead of coming clean, you go with it. - The Writers Digest

Everybody else is DOING IT - Fifty Shades of Grey

The topic on the lips of book lovers (and even those who aren't) is the book Fifty Shades of Grey written by E.L. James, and its current ban in some libraries. In my opinion, the ban raises the question of how uptight should we or should we not be in America. They are deeming this erotic fiction novel, as straight porn. That's a strong description. But of course, if it's in the genre of erotic fiction, it probably would be porn!

This whole fiasco reminds me of when The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo first came out. The bondage and BDSM sexual plots were a pretty little surprise for the average fiction reader. Actually, see my post on that...here. And the outrage with the 1958 publishing of "Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov is along the same shaky line. There are many novels that were considered "provocative" when they came out, yet are mild, child's play now. Does that mean society keeps coming to a point where it's more tolerant with sexual exposure and sex fetishes? I'm sure a decade from now, Fifty Shades of Grey will be just a puff of smoke in the debate on rapturous literature.

So...if you want to see what all the fuss is about, don't go to your neighborhood library. You better head to the closest Barnes & Noble since librarians apparantly have their buns pulled too tight and their shirts buttoned all the way up!

From Wikipedia:

The plot traces the relationship between recent college graduate Anastasia Steele and manipulative billionaire Christian Grey. Steele is required by Grey to sign a contract allowing him complete control over her life. As she gets to know him she learns that his sexual tastes involve bondage, domination and sadism, and that childhood abuse left him a deeply damaged individual. In order to be his partner she agrees to experiment with BDSM, but struggles to reconcile who she is (a virgin who has never previously had a boyfriend) with whom Christian wants her to be: his submissive, to-do-with-as-he-pleases partner in his "Red Room of Pain."

Video Inspiration #3 - Kelis + Paul Hunter

So, I broke the promise I just made below. Whatever.

Anyway, this is my all time favorite video by Kelis and any other Kelis fan out there (it's only a few of us) would totally agree. This video was at the time when Kelis's signature hairstyle was her wild locks. So, to see it long and straight, was breathtaking.

The video was directed by Paul Hunter and he is known for directing other minor, little videos such as:

Aaliyah - One in a Million
Notorious BIG - Hypnotize
Puffy - All about the Benjamins
Lenny Kravitz - Again
Jennifer Lopez - Love Don't cost a Thing
Jay-Z ft. Pharrell - Frontin
Jeremih - Birthday Sex
Justin Timberlake - My Love

And the list goes on and on and on and on...

Please watch this awesome video, then read my awesome short story. (And this one is really short. I was inspired by a short, general idea. Maybe one day I'll flush it out more.) Thanks much.



"If he hits you one more time, you have to kill him." She said aloud to her mirrored reflection. The index and middle finger on her right hand gently stroked the bubble of puffiness around her eye and swiped the blood that trickled from the open split. She washed her hands off in the sink, then dipped her son's Batman washcloth into the soapy water to clean the rest of the cuts and bruises that lined up on her face, shoulders and arms.
"Baby...you okay in there?"
"Leave me alone."
"I know you're upset with me but I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it.” The door rocked a little when his back slumped against it. “You just can’t do shit like that. You know it makes me get black-headed.” Black-headed. That’s what he always referred to as blacking out and punching her repeatedly in the face, ribs and chest.
“You’re a broken record Tom.” She managed to say before bursting into tears.
“Come on don’t cry. Let me in. We can talk about it, but not with the door between us. Come on. Come on.” His words got louder. “You know you need me. Shit, talking about a broken record, you always come back though don’t you? Open this damn door!”
“I said leave me alone.” She whispered. She took the bottom of her dress and lightly wiped the tears that had already stained. It was one of her favorite dresses: Burgundy with yellow polka dots at the top and yellow stripes at the bottom. Such a unique design. Burgundy was her favorite color. Now the dress matched her eyes and arms. She tucked a side of her long, blonde hair behind her ear, then took a seat on the edge of the tub.
“I was just trying to make you happy. I don’t know what’s so wrong with that.”
“I am happy.” He said, in a low muffled voice. “What are you doing in there? Why can’t I come in? Look, I’ll buy you whatever you want to make up for it okay?” She kept quiet, but stared at the door.
“I’ll get you a better car okay? A newer one. And some new dresses. Don’t you like dresses?”
“I don’t need a new car.”
“Then a trip? How about we fly back down to Mexico?”
“I don’t need a trip.”
“What the hell do you want then? I’ll tell you what I want, for you to stop acting childish and come out of this bathroom.” Suddenly his fist pounded on the door. The reverberation shook her to standing upright. She wrapped her arms around her body as tight as she could, as he continued to pound on the door. It wasn’t big, but it was definitely something noticeable. A wooden splint in the door that faced her side was poking out just so. Out of fear, her heart skipped a beat. She leaned in to peer closer.
“Open up!” He shouted, rocking the door again. She jerked back.
“Tom, stop it! You know what I want? You know what you can do for me?” The pounding stopped. She gave in. “Don’t do it again okay? Just…don’t.”
“I love you.” He said. She turned the doorknob and opened it. He stood in front of her, flush faced and sweating.
“I don’t need anything from you. Can’t you see that?” She caressed his face. “Let me be here for you. Let me love you. I don’t matter. Nothing else matters. I just wanna get along with you.”
“I know.” They embraced.

Why I love Music...

Music is life. If you ever doubt that, watch this.



via Vashtie's blog