Archive for October, 2012


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Caravan (Free write)

Why does the caravan travel together?  They keep to themselves regardless of their company.  The spice man sews, the silk vendor reads, the indigo seller fiddles on his instruments… So it goes on, with each merchant immersing themselves in personal doings.  Even the strumpets become introverts around their fellow travelers.


So why does the caravan travel together?


Author’s Note:  WHY?  I don’t know.  Does anybody have any answers?  Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments section!

(Based on an observation.)


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Night envelops me like an eggshell.  I wear her cloak, pitch-black blue laden with stars.  Stars poking me through her fabric, stars telling me what to do.  Their points puncture my skin; their rays rob me of my vision, cause me to stumble backwards, forwards, tripping side to side.  The eggshell broken.  I crash into hard soil, feel my teeth break as my face hits the ground.  Le goût du sang* overpowers my tastebuds, causing me to wonder how such a metallic taste could possibly be human.  Such a cold taste; such a warm liquid.  We have to decide what in the blood we identify with: the properties of metal or the properties of heat.  Eggshells only last for so long, and soon the world will demand you to choose.


*le goût du sang – French – “the taste of blood”


Author’s Note: It’s dark outside; quite a lovely colour the sky is tonight.  Or this morning.  Anyway, just a simple free verse piece pour mon plaisir, et ton plaisir, aussi˚.  It’s experimental.  


I like using French inserts, especially when talking about blood.  “Sang” isn’t as heavy or weighty of a word as “blood”, but rather it is more of the nature of blood I wanted to portray here: slick, flowing, almost like a sly character in a spy movie, something not heavy but (thick) liquid and waiting to change.  Sometimes your own language isn’t adequate to convey what you mean; anyone else agree?


˚pour mon plaisir, et ton plaisir, aussi – French – “for my enjoyment, and your enjoyment, too”

Night At The Opera

Posted in College!, Entropy, NYC Arts (MCHC 1001), Reviews | 2 Comments »


This past Wednesday, my Macaulay seminar class went to see L’Elisir d’Amore, a comic opera by Gaetano Donizetti.  Set in 19th Century Italy, the opera tells the tale of villager Nemorino’s quest for Adina, a rich and beautiful farm owner, in the midst of a very busy “tourist” season.  Such “tourists” include Sergeant Belcore (akin to Disney’s Gaston), his soldiers, and the conman Dulcamara.  Along with the villagers, this colourful cast sings through many a plot twist to spin a fun, clever story.


My favorite aspect of the opera’s plot was its interwoven structure; events in the show fed into each other, even if sometimes it became a bit too coincidental.  For example, Adina mentions that Nemorino has a sick uncle, who might not leave Nemorino an inheritance if the he does not visit him.  Later in the opera, the uncle dies and leaves Nemorino a fortune; the plot has continuity!  Yes!  This event feeds into a humorous misunderstanding involving the village maidens and a “love potion”, but I won’t spoil too much for you.


Belcore’s name was also interesting for me.  At first, it sounded to me like “Belle cuore”, roughly translating to “beautiful heart.”  It seemed like an irony Donizetti might include; Belcore is a handsome man but is obnoxious and shallow.  Then my professor pointed out the relation to “Belcore” and “bellicose” (“warlike in nature; aggressive, hostile” –  Belcore is an aggressive character, as seen by his arrogant pursuit of Adina and in his career in the military.  “There isn’t a beauty who can resist the sight of a plume.  In the end, the mother of Love submitted to Mars, the warrior god,” he sings in “Come Paride vezzoso”. (Don’t you just love the mythology reference?!)



The opera’s story was great; the experience of going to the opera was equally amazing.  The Metropolitan Opera – the “Met” – must be one of the classiest locations in New York City.  Brilliant chandeliers drawn up as the performance began; lush red carpeting… everywhere; an enormous lake of people wearing tuxedoes and eye-catching dresses and even kimonos!  It is gorgeous.  Outside, Lincoln Center adds to the atmosphere, with a glowing fountain that echoes the appearance of the chandelier, a rectangular “wishing well”, and – my favorite – the grass steps.



The sound in row K of the family circus – a.k.a. the seats three feet from the ceiling –  was rich and full.  Even though we were really far away, we could hear every note, every trill… it was great.  The singers were… wow.  Just wow.  Go and see it.  They made music-pasta (or paper towels) with their voices (a reference to any readers who had Mrs. Nolemi).  Also, even though the facial expressions were lost on us, the large gestures conveyed a lot of meaning, so kudos to the director!  The costumes helped, as well; for instance, Adina’s red skirt and top hat (oh goodness!  The top hat!  So glorious!)  helped identify characters regardless of distance.


So if you’re looking for something fancy and fun to see this season, I do recommend Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore.  And don’t worry about not understanding Italian; the back of the seats have subtitles.


P.S. – What did my fellow opera goers think of the performance?






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The occasional wish

To slide into skin

Soft and dark

Different from your own

To feel coarse dirt

On your soles

And harsh sun

On your back

As you pick plump grapes

Off their homes on the vine

Watch the fruits


The aroma pungent

Piercing your olfactory membrane

Squishy sticky sweet pearls

Popping under your soles

Or maybe

You weren’t as lucky

Your money not good enough

To fly off to a vineyard

So you lay on the filthy mattress

And pump!

Up and down, your pelvis


Oh –!

Deep groans

From your throat

Or his throat

(Or even hers)

You learn to enjoy

Selling your pink bouquet

To dirty gardeners

It’s casual sex

Just with a pay

You chose this route

Chose to slip into this thin,

Tight, sore skin

Like you were sliding on a party dress

You needed to escape

To peel off your old face

Disgusting and cheap

In a few more men

You will have your ticket

You’ll be writing in European tongues


For your chance to direct the stars

As you thought you could in your youth


The coppers don’t catch you first

Author’s Note: Odd to “introduce” myself with an escapist poem, but maybe it will tell you about me by telling you who I am not.  I remember the day I wrote this poem, a day filled with dread due to a stupid mistake – a costume was miscatalogued and thought to be missing, meaning if we didn’t find it our report cards (or, in my case, diploma) would be held.  Before the error was rectified, my worry seeped through my pen and formed this poem.

Constructive criticism appreciated!

Poached Eggs

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Bonjour tout le monde!

I welcome you to Five F’s, a blog covering film, French, fiction, food, fun, and all things in between.


What better way to start a blog than with breakfast?  Last summer, my grandma taught me how to make poached eggs, a simple breakfast.  When made right, they are so good, especially on toast; I love eating poached eggs on whole wheat toast, topped with salt, black pepper, and cayenne pepper.

Poached Eggs


  • about 5 cups water
  • salt
  • 2 tsp apple cider vinegar
  • 1 egg
  • salt & pepper (optional)
  • toast (optional)

Fill a small pot with 5 cups water.  Add a sprinkle of salt to the water.  Bring to a boil.

As the water is coming to a boil, add 1 tsp of the apple cider vinegar.  Crack the egg in a separate bowl; once the water has come to a complete boil, slide the egg into the pot.  Add the second teaspoon of apple cider vinegar.  The egg should look cloudy as the whites form around the yolk.

This is what the contents of your pot should look like after adding the egg and vinegar. It’s like the formation of a cloud!

Once the egg has been added to the water, let it boil for approximately 3 minutes, no longer (or else it will become solid).  After 3 minutes the egg should be soft; take it out with a slotted spoon.


Your poached egg is now ready to eat.  Serve with salt and pepper, and toast if you would like.