The Instant

Whoa. Is it me, or is it hot in here? I'd say creativity is pouring out of people here like the beads of sweat this summer weather inspires. Go see our very own Josh Wiles' and others polaroid photo work at The Instant. July 26, 2008 from 7-9 pm. It's at the Texas Fire Hose 36-29 Vernon Blvd in Long Island City.

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Put A Egg On It

Today at the Rose tasting I thought the day couldn't get better. I was having temporary amnesia. I had forgotten the new air-conditioner in my apartment didn't work and almost fell out the window. That poor bird dog has a vet appointment. That the sun is as hot as fire, and the asphalt torching. But it was noon and I was drinking Rose. Life was great. And it was Pink. Domaine de Montrieux, Mas Jullien, Ciliegiolo.

Then someone handed me something. A manila folder with this egg journal and pin. As I have harped on before I have a hard time reading about food and the biggest culprit is preciousness. Immediately I was attracted to the little green zine. It represented the punk zines of lore, referencing the ripped borders, the content on the front page, the humor and ironic graphics and the paper. Still I worried. I had a sip of the bubbles in front of me. And started to read.

Words I dislike jumped out at me. Munch. Meal. Ravenous. Delicate. But still I read on and... I was compelled. The magazine features a lovely and sincere tale of eating in the rain and a night that ends in a slow dance.

This little number is a gem. It is reverent of its roots, paying subtle homage to the punk and the rock. The photo spread in the center is as sincere as the text and alive with the mess, awkwardness and community that is eating.

I would like to thank Sarah Keough, who is the author and editor, and recommend this tiny book to all. Also R&S Media are the perpetrators of Print Fetish, one of my favorite blogs. Ever.

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Rock Roll and Rose: One day in Dinerland

Dear staff,

Noon for wine in the back of Marlow. 8:30 for rockin' out. My kind of day.

Sincerely,

Diner Journal

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Every Thursday 8-4 till November

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Of the Land: Books Andrew has been dabbling in

First Sentences:

My first garden was a place no grown-up ever knew about, even though it was in the backyard of a quarter-acre suburban plot.

One of the peculiarities of the white race's presence in America is how little intention has been applied to it.

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