everything is a microcosm...
small things done well; so very necessary for a full life. and while you may not think a thing like this
is important, believe me, it is. in a culture consumed by vast conglomerates whose reach extends globally, in a society that is concerned with "growing the brand of Democracy," in a time of consolidation and unsustainable growth, as the last shreds of our individuality are subjugated to the will of the mass mind, the lowest common denominator, the cheapest, easiest, fastest goddamned everything, it is quite a feat to produce evidence of the individual, evidence of the belief in a job well done, to produce proof that it is still possible to shine as human beings.
and all this from a donut? well let me tell you my friends, it is a fucking miracle to taste a homemade donut. a piece of baking artistry. soft light yet substantial, pastry flour, real cinnamon, crumbly, magical. made in batches of FIVE fa chrissakes. this masterpiece came from Duck's Cosmic Kitchen here in Atlanta. the place is so small you can't sit inside. really, this is the best donut I've ever had, more like a piece of coffee cake. these people care about what they do. they understand that you make a great thing because you must make it great or you would be unable to live with the consequences. they make something they would eat.
here's the point: sometimes it isn't about how much or how many or how huge. it is about the quality of a thing. it is about handmade chapbooks with thick paint splashed on the cover, it is about Bill Roberts feeding sheets of colored stock thru a 1914 letterpress, it is about the feel of a typewriter as the keys punch into the paper, it is about making something sing, not drone.
it is about the world we live in being populated with people, human beings, who are unsatisfied with the shitpile in which they find themselves wallowing. people who seek more than the greybrown world of Walmart shelves stocked with Chinese made goods and boxes of industrial food manufactured in factories in New Jersey and Mexico and Taiwan. in the end we must decide between quality living and quantity living. do you need 5000 square feet of living space if you only have 150 square feet of life?
it's about a donut made by a human hand on a sunny saturday morning rather than a giant machine at Krispy fucking Kreme drizzling lard and apathy across the fat ass of a happily conforming, easily franchised, too-sweet to eat pop music world.
and remember, you only need to eat one if it's the fucking right one.
is important, believe me, it is. in a culture consumed by vast conglomerates whose reach extends globally, in a society that is concerned with "growing the brand of Democracy," in a time of consolidation and unsustainable growth, as the last shreds of our individuality are subjugated to the will of the mass mind, the lowest common denominator, the cheapest, easiest, fastest goddamned everything, it is quite a feat to produce evidence of the individual, evidence of the belief in a job well done, to produce proof that it is still possible to shine as human beings.
and all this from a donut? well let me tell you my friends, it is a fucking miracle to taste a homemade donut. a piece of baking artistry. soft light yet substantial, pastry flour, real cinnamon, crumbly, magical. made in batches of FIVE fa chrissakes. this masterpiece came from Duck's Cosmic Kitchen here in Atlanta. the place is so small you can't sit inside. really, this is the best donut I've ever had, more like a piece of coffee cake. these people care about what they do. they understand that you make a great thing because you must make it great or you would be unable to live with the consequences. they make something they would eat.
here's the point: sometimes it isn't about how much or how many or how huge. it is about the quality of a thing. it is about handmade chapbooks with thick paint splashed on the cover, it is about Bill Roberts feeding sheets of colored stock thru a 1914 letterpress, it is about the feel of a typewriter as the keys punch into the paper, it is about making something sing, not drone.
it is about the world we live in being populated with people, human beings, who are unsatisfied with the shitpile in which they find themselves wallowing. people who seek more than the greybrown world of Walmart shelves stocked with Chinese made goods and boxes of industrial food manufactured in factories in New Jersey and Mexico and Taiwan. in the end we must decide between quality living and quantity living. do you need 5000 square feet of living space if you only have 150 square feet of life?
it's about a donut made by a human hand on a sunny saturday morning rather than a giant machine at Krispy fucking Kreme drizzling lard and apathy across the fat ass of a happily conforming, easily franchised, too-sweet to eat pop music world.
and remember, you only need to eat one if it's the fucking right one.
posted by christopher cunningham at 3:08 AM
5 Comments:
Chris:
When I go out and eat with my family at restaurants, often I walk away disappointed. I wonder if these people make a living out of making food, why does it taste so awful. It appears like some people don't take pride in their work or care to cook a decent meal. Still, the people continue to get in line and spend their money on subpar food. It is disheartening. Near our home there is Mexican bakery, and sometimes I'll bring some sweet bread home. It's okay, but not really baked the way it should be & they are cheap in the ingredients. I have to drive several miles to another little Mexican bread, where nearly everything they make is delicious, from the conchas to the bolillos, it is not doughy like the other place, where you can pinch off a piece of bread and roll it up in your hand & you get a little piece of dough, not baked all they way. In poetry & other aspects of literature & art we have the same problems. The dedication is not always there. I enjoyed your post & your words in this latest blog entry. That donut looks and sounds delicious.
Luis, you were right when you said "that donut looks and sounds delicious." On first glance, I thought it was a homemade concoction from THE GIRL at THE COMPOUND. She's a terrific cook!
You were also right about the dedication not always being there in poetry, liturature and art but I have to give kudos for the poetry I've read on these posts. That is dedication!!!
Chris,
Enjoyed the post and know exactly where you are coming from - we've learned a great deal from THE COMPOUND on the best way to eat - thanks, and, by the way - dad is looking forward to his father's day fried green tomatoes.
Chris-
helluva post. what does a donut have to do with art and life and truth? everything. just as everything else.
brilliant post.
and when do we all get to sample those fried green tomatoes? :)
mom c:
thank you.
never had fried green tomatoes.
I feel like I'm missing out.
Luis
I guess the South is best known for its fried green tomatoes and I can't wait to see how THE GIRL fixes them. The key is to coat them and season them and fry them so as not to overwhelm the taste of the green tomatoe with one flavor but to blend all the flavors to make one hell of a great taste - YUM O, as Rachael Ray says. Cindy, do you agree???
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