Go on Now Go, You're Not Welcome Anymore!

I have a fear of cooking large pieces of meat.  The London Broil had me perplexed for decades.  It's not a cut of meat, yet it's the way it's prepared but it is what they call it in the store.  That alone, kept me away for years.  It used to be highly affordable but has now gone the way of the flank steak in pricing.  

But today I conquered that fear.  The key is marinading overnight and you should pull the meat out of the fridge to get room temperature well before cooking.  Dab the meat so that it will brown (I forgot that part).  Broil 5 to 7 minutes each side and let rest.  Cut against the grain.  

It's surprisingly tender and juicy.  By the way. I just added a little butter to the cooking juices in the pan for a nice quick sauce.   Even though it's not cheap, it's still a good bargain as you can make many meals from it, like thin steak sandwiches, slice into strips for beef burritos, a steak salad with tomatoes and bleu cheese.  Lots of great uses.  

This year might be the one I tackle some of my other idiotic fears. I have so many.  Fear can stifle your ability to live your life.  Sometimes I don't even understand what exactly I fear, it just fills the air and I become frozen, unable to perform.  That's one good thing about getting older.  You hang out for a long time with your faults and they become very familiar.  You get to know them like separate entities, that are not you but can come inside like an unwelcome guest.  Depression, fear, dread, they are stealers of time and seem hell bent on keeping you down.  If they are not us, then we must be able to escort them out of the door onto some other unsuspecting fool.  

Burning Up Her Fuse Up Here Alone

For lunch I made simple black bean Tostadas.  The night before we indulged in a steak nacho bar for two with a fresh batch of homemade hot sauce, so I was jamming them suckers down as if there was no tomorrow.  For me, there is a sort of party like it's 1999 feeling about the world right now.  But it's coupled with a fear that if humanity is NOT going to end suddenly in a huge fireball or flood , then I bess' be activating this cool being I think I am inside.  Times a'wastin'!
I have been here many times before. This feeling that someone else was just recently in charge and I find myself suddenly in the driver's seat. As if I shed an old shell like those crabs that find new housing every few years.  A part of my mind was dormant and suddenly awoke to someone else's messy room or in this case, boring plaid drapes and beige tones.  To be fair I do dive deep into subjects that make me no money or elevate my conditions, like this blog and taking pictures for hours that no one sees or pouring over food ideas just to share them with no one.  But the alarm clock for waking is on it's 2nd snooze.  I am suddenly a little ashamed of my non eventfulness.  It's no secret I suffer from depression but I'm hoping its not like a progressive disease that takes over other functions of my body and spirit.  What if it grows to make me incapable of energizing thought. And I become imprisoned in my current self unable to slap on a new one but also unable to revive the old. 
I do believe what we put in our bodies definitely affects mood, thought and energy levels. For me anyway, It's not enough to cut out alcohol and drugs but you can't eat a bunch of junk and sugar and expect to think clearly.  Doesn't mean I don't fail miserably each week. These baked shell black bean tostadas with a layer of guacamole helped me to keep a good thought.  And the freshly blended hot sauce and chips was a reminder that joy comes in so many packages.  In the case that any of my many conspiracy theories are true, we must gobble up any and all delights along our path.  Our job is to fuel the next moments in the hopes of something better around the corner.

Fell On Black Days

A rewrite of original post

This was the day Chris Cornell was found dead, an apparent suicide.  Cornell, this youngish, healthy, golden voiced man.  What a shock. I immediately thought of Norm MacDonald.  On his show he speaks of when someone says, I can't imagine why anyone would commit suicide and his response is 'Really??!!  You can't imagine???' equally stunned and amazed.   I love comedians for getting to the core of such a truth with righteous humor.  In reality, the number of possible struggles any of us can have is endless.   The effect of his drastic actions has given us all food for thought this week and I'm trying to understand why it's haunted me so much.

At first it's impossible not to think, wait, golden voice, uniquely handsome. What are those, blue grey eyes? Um, did I mention successful, talented, I'm assuming a happy family.  Tall, thin and had all his hair.. at age 52.  Dare I say he could even pass for white movie Jesus.  Isn't my lack of all those things exactly why I am so unhappy??  What drove a doubly blessed man to commit a heinous act at at time in his life that seemed by all my accounts to be pretty wonderful?  No, this just doesn't make sense. What's our takeaway from this?  Everyone is miserable deep down inside?  You can't have it all and even when you do, it can still suck?  Don't trust pharmaceutical drugs?  Depression is the heady step brother of cancer?  I hate everything about this story.  Hanging.  That is so harsh and radical. How do you even hang yourself in a bathroom?  And what is an exercise neck band anyway?  Blood dripping, extra pills.  There was a lot going on at that scene.

Then the wife, with the penning of the personal letter to her husband yet publishes it publicly.  Probably some folks will see this as a beautiful gesture.  I will just say I am not a fan of that.  You can't go after a grieving widow and anyone who does is an inconsiderate assface.  So.

I did heavily wear out the first Soundgarden albums and even had to safeguard my character at the time in San Francisco.  When I first met my husband, he challenged any of my bands that didn't meet his criteria.  He said their lyrics were shallow, nothing was real.  I never had someone scrutinize my musical choices before, however he always did it in such a polite way I often just felt stupid afterwards. almost apologetic. He always had valid points. But I love the fact that a person can like any music for absolutely no logical reason.  For me, it was about his scream and the vitality, the energy he was evoking.  Not necessarily pretty but painting the angst, the frustration, and bleakness of the time. This was the time of hair bands and new wave, a real turning point in music.  So you experimented with a lot of indie sounds. I reminded myself not to mention my love of Skinny Puppy and Revolting Cocks, and my bouts with speedcore. This band was the Beatles compared to some of that stuff.  Plus Soundgarden sounded really great when you were happy stoned.  I remember just letting my hair sort of cover half my face listening and laughing with my roommates.  Smoking hash during the days, seeing shows at night.  No food in the fridge.  Leisurely strolls in my lower Haight neighborhood, just kicking around.  Sobering adult type problems were approaching.  I think they were actually pounding on my front door but we couldn't hear them because the music was too loud.  But by the time BadMotorfinger came along, I guess I sort of put down the bong for awhile. However now they were more melodic so I secretly still listened.  Years later I attended one of his solo shows and was blown away by the quality and tone of his voice.

I am very heavy-hearted that Chris committed suicide.  Some say it's a bummer for recovering addicts.  I say it's also very sad for people prone to that deep depression, however highly functioning.  I'm upset that after his other pharma addictions, he would trust an anti anxiety script.  Who was watching out for him?  That made for profit crap is not the answer.  I hope further probes might shed some light on the dangers of doling out these pills without proper follow up and observation.  #donttrustbigpharma.

Hitting close to home is the fact that everyone I know is dealing with bouts of anxiety and depression right now and me, it might as well be paying half of my rent as much as it comes around.  You're almost crazy if you don't feel the heaviness.

Elephants gather round their dead loved ones, picking up the bones, recalling their friends, honoring them.  In that same vein I've been watching old interviews, playing the albums and videos as I've come to do now with all our important recently deceased musicians.  Paying my respects.  Dying early of disease, drug complications, etc - all terrible things.  But this one hits extra hard.  Suicide by hanging is a desperate rage, such a disturbed state.  I can still hear the echo of his brutal act in the distance tonight and I pray my demons never catch me weak or any of my loved ones.  

Rest in peace sweet man.