On Authenticity

I have a small crank left over from the weekend about authenticity, realness, memoir, and fiction, but I am having a hard time articulating it. I think it boils down to: don't ever fool yourself into thinking memoir is real and fiction is not. They're different flavors of real. Also, all writing takes craft, whether is sounds breathless and accessible or mannered and airy.

I think some of us may crave memoir these days because we're so oversaturated with advertising and political manipulation (the same thing, in many cases), so it seems like a breath of fresh air. But only if it's good. What you want to say when you are praising it is, "that was really good," or, "that was really moving," or, "I really connected with that."

(no subject)

In other news, I saw Sweeney Todd last night.

It was totally silly and over the top. Also, so gory that I had to look away from the screen. And that's saying something.

I liked the beach sequence.

I also liked being reminded that if you can write (and sell!) a musical about killing people and turning them into meat pies, you can write about anything.

The box is back!

My CSA takes a two-week vacation at the end of the year. By the end of it, I am usually starved for green things. This time around is no exception.

Yesterday, the box started up again! Inside:

Carrots
Spinach or arugula, I didn't look closely
Chard
Broccoli
Leeks
Sweet Potatoes
Satsuma Mandarins
Apples

and maybe some stuff I am forgetting.

Also still on hand:

Potatoes
Butternut Squash
Cabbage
and a bunch of Chinese greens (that I bought at the farmer's market to go with red-cooked pork belly, should I manage to accomplish that this weekend.)

I am so happy to be back on my weekly vegetable ration! Now I just need to decide what to do with it all.