Upon Vogue, Janvier 2008

I am searching for something called inspiration. Sometimes I get confused and think inspiration is the means to that which I am searching for. It is not so. There have been times when my inspiration’s catalyst has undergone great adjustment, veering its path this way or that. There have been times when it has fallen back and found solace in already-taken footsteps. Today, inspiration has chosen the latter.

Speaking of inspiration as its own entity is quite intentional. The search extends beyond ones own body, therefore making it separate from ourselves. It’s spirit dwells in a photograph, a sentence, an idea. It is sometimes embodied in another character, their habits or their home. A crack in the sidewalk, a strip of pale pink light above a tree-lined horizon: inspiration is not choosy when it comes to address. It’s windows and doors are constantly unlocked. One only needs to harness the exact force to apply on the point of access to enter the lavish simplicity of inspirations interior. Perhaps, once inside, one will find others who have penetrated its walls. Et voilà. Ça commence.

This morning, I find inspiration upon inspiration. I apply the force of a previous muse to go deeper into today’s inspirations’ chambers. And once inside, I recognize its interior. The shadows of my previous visits persist even though the dust has settled. But amid the ghosts and whips of memory that linger, small rays of light pierce through the gloom and illuminate the muted area. It’s this extra perspective that gives meaning and intent to something that before was so inaccessible. My fumbling hands find balance, my wandering mind, solidity. And I look with bright eyes, and I do with brilliant resolution.

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And so, fingers still glistening from the glorious sheen that buttermilk biscuits do impart, I begin again.

It was a simple decision to finally bake those buttermilk biscuits that I have been lusting over on the cover of January’s Gourmet. So while my roommate dashed off to class, I settled in to craft some goodness. Two hours ago I had no idea that this goodness would take two forms: the culinary kind and the inspirational kind. Culinary-wise, I couldn’t go wrong (have you seen the January cover??), and if my previous field-experience tells me anything, I wouldn’t be disappointed in the inspiration realm, either. For inspiration often arises out of the most peculiar circumstances: extreme depression, rapturous exultation, vile cruelty or blissful splendor... Sometimes, inspiration even arises out of an unused carton of buttermilk, waiting patiently on the refrigerator shelf.



In any case, as I sat down to a breakfast of biscuits right out of the oven and a fried egg in all its purity, I began to do some research for an interview I would be conducting with a particularly well-known food blogger. And then I found a similar soul. As I read her words, her thoughts and her experiences, I felt oddly consoled. Suddenly, all that had been restlessly swimming around in my mind for the past few months came together and I decided right then and there: I am going to keep this blog going.

Forever, I have wanted to carve out a small corner of the world in which to live and create and grow. In all my discrepancies with the journalistic method and practice, I have always held on to my own definition of the activity: find and create, then share. So here I am and here I go. Hello to you all and welcome to my petit coin du monde.