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Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”
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Colin’s Corner: Apple’s slate a “Sumerian” publishing eco-system for mobile mass media
If Apple manages to pull this off, it will be both potentially devastating and liberating for legacy publishing industries. Bright creative entrepreneurs will change the moribund textbook industry, children’s books with be brought to life via multimedia, the travel guide industry and special interest publishing will be revolutionized, comic books anime and manga will reach massive new audiences. Where it makes sense text can be enhanced by audio and video, readers can be connected to discuss and share content, and new business models can be developed that take account of how readers want to access and consume content. The whole of the publishing industry could be revitalized. The journey is the reward.
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Verbal sensitivity, wrote John Gardner, was one quality a writer could use. I like this phrase better than “love for words.” It’s a closer approximation of what I enjoy when writing.
I do feel a caffeine jolt when I find a new word that captures what I mean. I love the sound of it, the cadence it adds to my sentence, the harmony or disharmony it contributes to the paragraph, or even to the whole work but what I enjoy is bigger than this. Gardner’s term includes more than the delight I feel with individual words or group of words. It is curiosity about the structure of language and the mimetic function of thought in putting flesh to experience. I might hazard to say that what I enjoy in writing is intrinsic to living life itself. Living by itself seems inadequate when I cannot put down what I am living into what I see. Seeing is at the core of writing, seeing in the sense like dipping a teaspoon into the surging river that I have a bit of it in my possession, something I can gloat over and dissect and make something else out of because what I have is not the river surely. It’s mine now; hence I I can, maybe even must do something with it. It is delight and obligation; it is response and responsibility.
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Cantonese food is what came to mind when growing up in the Philippines we went out for Chinese with my father. Cantonese was also what Americans had until the last ten to fifteen years when more mainland Chinese have been liberated to come to America and offer us the wider variety of Chinese viands.
Peter Cheung started the House of Cheung in 1989. His grandfather came to America in 1907 and worked at various jobs until he came to the Midwest in the late 1940s and started working in various restaurants. Peter followed in the 1970s, his father arriving later on with his mother. Peter told me that when he first arrived in Indianapolis there were seven Chinese restaurants. Now there are over a hundred. But his Cantonese-American style of Chinese restaurant is quickly disappearing. Sprouting like shiitake mushrooms after the rain, the newer restaurants are smaller with minimal decor to tell customers they sold Chinese food. Peter’s restaurant, on the other hand, is a museum of artwork overseas Chinese and Chinese who fled the mainland were homesick for. Reverse glass paintings, scrolls, ornate imperial-style dragons, and the golden lanterns with Mandarin-red faux silk tassels. My rather confused take – his machine-gun speech left me in the dust – on Peter’s family history in America gave me the impression that the seven Chinese restaurants in the city were incestuous enterprises. Owners and chefs came from a small group of Chinese who knew each other and who traded places as necessity occasioned. They maintained a consistent blueprint for what constitutes a Chinese restaurant and its menu. Peter’s House of Cheung is one of the last examples.The story of Peter’s family and their associates starting from the late 1800s fascinates me. So much has been written about the Jewish diaspora, largely in the Europe and the Americas, but the Chinese too dispersed from mainland China and their story has been told only in a few books. They came to California in the 1800s and built the railroads that spanned the West. Many ended up finding new ways of making money by starting Chinese laundries and restaurants. These were the equivalents of European explorers fanning out into America and Asia. The Chinese began to leave Manchu China after Europe and the U.S. made contact with the deteriorating Middle Kingdom to seek their own fortune. Theirs is a story begging to be told.
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Wal Mart has been offering a large tub full of organic field greens for under two dollars. The organic revolution may be said to have arrived mainstream when Wal Mart offers organic veggies on its shelves. The greens include baby red-leaf lettuce and arugula, which by itself is often prohibitively priced. I should have used plain cider vinegar instead of balsamic that darkened the salad. A Greek salad to me is mixed greens, cucumber slices, a few tomatoes slices and feta cheese dressed simply with vinegar and olive oil. I didn’t quite achieve this but the mix was tasty nonetheless.
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