Posted 8/24/2009




It's the best, the smell of frying garlic and olive oil. I'm home alone for about a week, and the house is entirely empty--except for me, just me. The two guitars that I have been abusing for two months, and then some, have been tended to, played, heard and sung. Old friends have been treated with China tea and in-depth conversation, and my parents have amazingly not argued with me.

Home alone I have so much time to myself; to play whatever music I want throughout the entire house. It's amazing. And cooking is better than ever.

Pulling ingredients out of the cupboards and refrigerator on a lonely Saturday night, a familiar, welcoming sound catches me off guard: Rain. "下雨了“, I whisper to myself as I chop vegetables and defrost some kind of healthy-low-fat-ground-turkey.

As I heat up the pan and pour a bit of olive oil, my mother's voice fills my head: "Never be afraid in the Kitchen, David." I add the garlic first, and begin to start my experimental concoction. Next, as I add the chopped onion, some of the olive oil splashes up and lands on my wrist. I don't flinch. That's already happened to me many times, and I've grown used to the feeling of hot oil on skin.

While sweating the onions, and prepping to add the rest of my ingredients, the rain gets harder. The shuffle track on my macbook pro, as if to comfort me, conveniently chooses to play "Anthems of a Seventeen Year Old Girl" by Broken Social Scene. And the scene is complete. Nothing can get any better than the sounds of Broken Social Scene and rain, accompanying you through a moment of reflection, recollection, solitude, and cooking.

It's that moment when you feel your world is at peace, almost to the point where your heart breaks a little--because it comes to terms with the way the world really is, and what will never come to be. But it's soft, and light--enough room for a smile, and apparently a Photo Booth Picture.






It's the best, the smell of frying garlic and olive oil.


Dubby