an old writer and his words

  • ARE YOU CRAZY?

    The birds look at us as though we had two heads. They cannot, they say, comprehend how we can stand to live in boxes, to travel in metal containers, to be stuck forever to the ground. They say that food should be picked then eaten instantly, not packaged and half thrown away. They say they…

    Lou Faber

  • JE SAIS QUOI

    I admit I am an odd duck, odder for not being a duck at all. But the expression has a certain je ne sais quoi to it, as does that expression and I am all about language. All that is a long round about way of acknowledging that I have always wanted to use the…

    Lou Faber

  • CALENDAR

    As a child I lived next door to a calendar,but not the kind mother always hungon the wall next to the refrigerator, two,one for school events and the obligationsattendant on parenthood and the otherfor holidays, and adult social events,the important one she’d say whenshe thought we couldn’t hear.My calendar was Mrs. Kanutsu,the woman next door,…

    Lou Faber

  • CULINARIA

    My repertoire was so much wider then for that is the mis-appreciated burden of youth. My bookshelves groaned under the weight of a couple of hundred cookbooks, tomes focused on the apple, fish, chicken, or on isolated corners of what seemed to me to be an infinitely large world. Azeri food seemed a continent apart…

    Lou Faber

  • EATING MEDITATION

    The key to a simple meal is to cook the rice until each grain sits comfortably next to its neighbor without touch or embrace. On this, pour a bit of miso diluted by water of a stream or pulled from deep within the earth. Top it all with finally cut vegetables, carefully strewn as you…

    Lou Faber

  • INTO THE TIDE

    The woman at the next table stares at her fork with eyes which appear bottomless pools of sorrow. She picks at the noodles, raises and lowers the glass of wine without sipping. She is lost within herself and even the waiter approaches with trepidation for fear of falling in and drowning in her sadness. In…

    Lou Faber

  • GOD HAS COME, OR NOT

    It is the wet season when the rains wash the village carrying off the detritus of poverty. On the adobe wall of the ancient town hall some villagers say a face appeared one morning. To some it was the face of Christ to others that of an old man a former mayor, perhaps, to most…

    Lou Faber

  • CHANGE

    They lie in the field uprooted slowly desicating in the harsh sun, the fruit they might have borne trapped in the dying flower, the seed of another generation denied. It was not supposed to be like this, the sun should have fed them, the soil nourished their souls, their stalks growing thicker, drawing ever more…

    Lou Faber

  • NANSEN’S HUT

    If you have fine china you will be saddened when it breaks. If your pantry is full your anxiety grows as the food diminishes. But if you are alone with nothing, the apple that falls on the road is a feast, and the stream runs free with the finest wine. The silence of sun and…

    Lou Faber

  • CRYPTIC (an acrostic)

    God, it was a long night, unending needs unsated, brought to the edge man is a cruel beast, half master as pleading supplicant, half slave much the child, begging, wanting as if food or thought would give man humanity, elevated above needs, existing outside, independent a God, ruler of illusion and fantasy. First Appeared in…

    Lou Faber