lyrical realism

There’s something there is that loves a Sunday morning, in which she realizes that peace must be found within herself (how was that for a blended allusion to Frost and Stevens in one sentence?). This morning I graded papers whilst listening to Organic X online, one of my all-time favorite radio programs and one of the main ways I discover new singer-songwriters. Since I’m no longer anywhere near the metro OTP ATL area, I listen online. Today I fell for the songs “Pink Moon,” by Nicke Drake, “You’re Beautiful” by James Blunt, and “Bones” by Charlotte Martin. I’m in the process of downloading them to iTunes.

While having the pain of empty sentences and quasi-analysis soothed by the likes of Ben Folds and Ray La Montagne, I started thinking about my absolute favorite restaurant in ATL, which is Tamarind, a classy Thai place located off of 13th St. (or is it 10th? I know it’s that exit off of the expressway). Because I first ate Thai food at Tamarind, its significance is sealed in my heart. My friend S- and I first went there several years ago, when I still lived in Alabamy. We had spent the day shopping at Lenox and Phipps (my favorite shopping spots) in Buckhead, and after I secured the perfect red lipstick at Saks (Chanel, Coco Red), we drove through rain-laden streets to the restaurant, which was on the aforementioned road that was quickly flooding. Inside awaited a tranquil oasis, where efficient and personable wait staff whisked linen napkins onto our laps. I enjoyed a Tsing Tao beer, the most scrumptious spring rolls I’ve ever eaten, and Tofu curry. The presentation is lovely--the curry is served in a copper bowls set over warming tea lights and garnished with Thai basil and purple and white blossoms. Yumm.

When I visited the Southland this summer, I made a special trip to Tamarind for lunch, only to discover that I had arrived right at 2 when they stop serving. I was desperate and pleaded my case; when I quickly ordered without a menu, the obliging waiter whisked me to a table and once again the blend of heat and sweetness evoked bliss.

Now I need to find somewhere a bit closer to indulge my desire for Thai curry. I’m meeting my friend H-in AA this week and we’re hoping to find somewhere.

Today I went to see the film *Shopgirl*; I read the novella earlier this week and something in me was so taken with the story. The movie is quite good, and because Steve Martin also wrote the screenplay, it’s an honest rendering of the book. The film is quiet, rather “slow” (which I like about films, contrary to popular belief that never-ending action is the only filmic technique du jour). One of the qualities I most like about both texts is their lyrical realism...on the other hand, the 20something girls sitting behind me were quick to announce to the theater that “this movie sucks” as the credits rolled. I, on the other hand, smiled while dabbing at the salty tears that had trickled down my face with the sleeve of my fleece coat. Someday maybe they’ll too see that, well, this lyrical realism is life.