My father and mother put great stock in the passing of the seasons. They both make ceremony great and small out of the passing from one season to the next. My dad actually spent a great deal of time researching and learning about the ancient traditions of marking the passing of the seasons. My mother always remarked on the passing of seasons as it would relate to the harvesting and sharing of food. Seasonal observance my father said, helped bring the body in line with a shift in light, warmth and lengths of days. He placed great value in how the natural world around us interacts with the body and mind – if we let ourselves we can feel the passing of seasons, the changes in weather and the many ways in which nature touches and changes us.
Every day is like a goddamn human menagerie. If you pay close enough attention you can’t help but see that most of what goes on around is utterly absurd.
Let’s take for example the parking garage attendant on Charles Street near Back Bay. Every single morning he is charged with the task of standing in front of the entrance to the parking garage dressed as a giant blue letter P. In the morning when I round the corner coming out of the station going towards work I see this guy and openly laugh. The man takes his task seriously. Today he was doing the rain man and roger rabbit. Dance moves I haven’t seen done in earnest since the seventh grade. Sometimes he’ll fall over on his back and flail around until someone helps him up. It’s all very dramatic. Most of the time he just tries to get people who are walking by to acknowledge his efforts with a high five or at least a nod or recognition. Good lord its surprising how many people just walk on by; almost like they are mortified to recognize a giant dancing letter P.
For the second year in a row, Mahsa.bot and I entered the Fluff Fest annual Fluff Bake-off. Fluff is that delightfully gooey and sweet marshmallow substance that comes in a jar. We celebrate it so in these parts because it was founded in Sommerville, MA and continues to be manufactured in Lynn, MA.
Each year in Union Square a festival of all things Fluff is erected in the street complete with Fluffernutter sandwiches, whoopie pies, eating contests, the fluffets (scantily glad ladies adorned in feathers and glitter who dance in tribute of fluff). My reason to care about the Fluff Festival is the annual Fluff Bake off. Here you can enter your culinary fluff concoction in the hopes of winning a wonderfully garish home made trophy.
I know I will live to regret this. Happens every time. But in the interest of forcing myself to write and thus clear the clutter of words occupying my brain (preventing it from accumulating more useless facts and figures) I will endeavor to write 10 new posts in 10 days. What’s different this time around? This time I only mean to post 10 new posts in 10 days. That could mean two posts in one day and none on another. Just so long as in 10 days time there are 10 new posts. Clear? You can direct any questions you have to the rubbish bin under my desk.