Librari[d]an

I can’t stop thinking about fair weather, cycling, applying for jobs, ALA in Anaheim, and moving away from Pittsburgh. Not that I’m down on Pittsburgh–just ready for an adventure. (Or, if need be, a misadventure!) Nick called his desire to constantly move wanderlust. I, on the other hand, have always felt a dialectic need for and need to tear myself away from the familiar, the routine. It’s plagued me these past few years, having always found reasons to come back to or stay in Pittsburgh.

I’ve also realized that I am leading a life without music. (Not really, actually. It just feels like it.) Before the ‘pod broke, during my long walks - and occasionally bicycle rides (I know, unsafe!) - I would immerse myself in tunes nouveau and old. I think it’s time to make a financially unsound decision and get another.

This approximate recipe, which I gleaned from the gray, wet recipe book my Mom (pictured) calls a brain, sums up the amazing summer and early fall I had last year. I am resolved that it will be the last of my staple recipes that I post. From here on out, everything will be neuf.

:: Rene’s Vegan Bruschetta ::

Tomatoes
Onions (white)
Olive oil
Salt and Pepper
Basil
Oregano
Garlic (minced)

Directions are simple: Chop the tomatoes and onions and then throw everything in a bowl using amounts that suit your palate. Serve atop rounds of freshly toasted bread (baguette for a snack/appetizer, or something larger for a main course). You may want to brush the rounds with olive oil or put butter on them (if you’re not concerned about dietary restrictions).

Things to consider:

• If you find that this recipe yields bruschetta that’s too wet, remove and discard some (or all) of the tomatoes’ pulpy interiors.
• The type of tomato used can change how this recipe tastes dramatically.
• If you over-spice or put in too much olive oil, just add more tomato until things even out.
• If you have a few “problem” tomatoes (disappointing in taste or color, only edible in part, not exactly at the peak of ripeness, etc.) you can hide them rather wonderfully in this recipe.

I was bicycling home early this morning and was having a very good time. Despite the cold, there wasn’t any wind and the streets were more or less clear of automobiles. This general sense of euphoria - I had just come from a very nice party - changed when I got to Friendship Circle and came across a person I have decided to call “the Hissing Cyclist”.

It was just some hipster guy all bundled up on a junker road bike. He was at the corner of Friendship and South Millvale, sort of meandering there. I didn’t really think much of it until I passed him. At this time, he not only audibly hissed at me, but also turned onto Friendship right behind me. I am used to cyclist solidarity; cordial exchanges are what I have come to expect, especially on brisk nights in (relatively) bike-friendly neighborhoods. So to be hissed at, followed, and hissed at again (after speeding up, to escape) was kinda freakishly disturbing.

I’m still not sure what to make of it. To bed!

Not necessarily a particularly telling portrait of my everyday life or the year itself. Had to work with what I had:

Mintwood Christmas 2006. February 2007 ice storm. Rooftop photo op: 1 and 2 (March). Documentation of magnetic poetry / quiz night names. Chanelling Bowie. Maytide picnic. Conservation de la Cathédrale. Top roping at Saw Mill Run. June Pirates game. Paul’s pride and joy (July). August: Settler’s Cabin wave pool, Pirates, Fireworks over the Roberto Clemente Bridge, Kennywood, Critical Mass (with Miss Intensity). Susan’s birthday potluck (Nov). Christmas Eve 2007 salad. Somewhere to be in NYC, or, in search of the Dumont Burger. Delicious pizza. Underground man, New Year’s Day 2008.

If you were horrified to find a picture of yourself here, let me know so I can put a big X over your visage!

Bicycling in winter isn’t easy. Even if you have all the gear, which I don’t, there’s just no way around how uncomfortable it can be. Take, for example, my ride into Oakland today. I was having a fine go of things - easily evading all the grit that seems to collect on the roadside during the harshest season - when a glacial blast of air literally brought me to a standstill. That’s right. I was stopped going up the Bloomfield Bridge on my bicycle.

Was I afraid? No. There weren’t any cars coming. However, it was pretty damn frustrating since I could barely breathe and still had about half the bridge to traverse. It didn’t help that I was running late for the council meeting, as well.