Snake and boy

December 28th, 2010 § 1 comment § permalink

Rose kisses

December 23rd, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

 

Kisses

Aunty Doreen in Sri Lanka used to make these kisses every time I visited. I visited her often. Kisses, or macaroons, as my mother-in-law likes to call them, are essentially flavoured meringues. If you don’t like rose, substitute with vanilla, almond, peppermint or choc chips. The opportunities are endless. I feel almost blasphemous making these without A. Doreen.

Prep time – 1/2 an hour.

Cooking time: 1 hour.

Ingredients:

  • six  room temperature egg whites
  • 1.5 cups caster (super fine) sugar.
  • 1 tsp white vinegar
  • 1.5 tsp rose-flavoured water
  • pink food colouring
  1. Make sure your beaters and bowl is free of oils and stains. Preheat your oven to 120c (250F) with two wire racks placed evenly in the middle. Put baking paper on two flat baking trays.
  2. Whisk the egg whites until foamy. On medium, start adding the sugar, three tablespoons at a time until soft peaks form.
  3. Whisk on high once all the sugar is added then start playing around with the colour until you get a level of pink you’re happy with. Keep whisking until high peaks are created when the whisk is removed from the bowl.
  4. On low, fold in the vinegar and rose water.
  5. Using two clean tablespoons, spoon the mixture onto the prepared baking trays, making sure there’s a 2.5cm (1 inch) gap between meringues.
  6. Place the trays into the oven and close the oven door very slowly to prevent the hot air from escaping.
  7. Check on them in an hour or 50 minutes if your oven runs hot. Now, you have a choice. You can either take them out; the rush of cold air causes them to contract and get crunchy and cracked in some places. Or, you can turn the oven off and leave them to cool in there for six hours. I take them out because the cracks don’t affect the flavour and I’m impatient.
  8. Enjoy! Store in an air tight container.

 

 

 

The smell of Summer

December 18th, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

Christmas Party Spit

December 17th, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

I attended a Christmas party from one of my former work places. It was lovely to see familiar faces – and hear such Australian accents!

A day out with a sister

December 12th, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

The Hollow Men and Wikipedia

December 8th, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

Going through my books, I find a postcard of Jim Morrison in my T.S Eliot collected poems. What a cliche.

I studied one of T.S Eliot’s more well-known poems, the Hollow Men for my final literature essay way back when.

What’s most interesting is, I remember having to scour through tens of books on T.S Eliot, looking for a vague reference to the Hollow Men. Now, a half second google search and I find the majority of my research on wiki. Would it have meant more to me if I didn’t work at all for it? No. I cherish the essay because I can remember the hours in the library.

I’m not normally one to think about “the good old days” but in this case, I’m glad I got to spend time in a library without the omnipresent computer in front of me. Cause God knows, I’m in front of my computer all the time now.

Reading the Hollow Men again, I could picture where I lived during university, taste the pasta bianco (I couldn’t bring myself to survie on ramen noodles), feel the effect T.S Eliot’s words had on me, resting heavy on my chest. It still feels that way. The last paragraph sends a shiver down my spine every time.

The Hollow Men

Mistah Kurtz — he dead.

A penny for the Old Guy

I

We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us — if at all — not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.

II

Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer —

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

III

This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

IV

The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.

V

Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow

Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow

For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

My Dad

December 5th, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

When can we play?

December 2nd, 2010 § 0 comments § permalink

CANON Commercial – Freeze Tag from Saman Keshavarz on Vimeo.

CANON: Freeze Tag – Behind The Scenes from Saman Keshavarz on Vimeo.