Sunday, September 6, 2009

A Delicious Building that Stands a Few Minutes Away (by Driving)

Soft chattering scatters about the dim-lit room. Sweet melodies of
Eartha Kitt's vibrant voice blends
Even deeper into the mixture.

I see the rain pouring and adding more colors to the rainbow.
Maybe this is only displayed in my mind, but I don't care to find out.

The french toast served, the cafe latte presented. Exactly the way I like it.


This is a short poem I wrote, inspired by a trip my family and I (except for my sister, who due to her lazy yet relaxed nature decided to sleep in :) ) made to a nearby restaurant for breakfast this morning.

It's one of those restaurants where you feel like you own the place, because of how intimate everything is (since it's not a chain restaurant) and how friendly everybody is to one another.

Sometimes I feel like I never want to leave.

Now this is also the kind of restaurant that offers as much food as a person can possibly, humanly eat. The pancakes are not pancakes, but they are two ginormous fluffy discs of deliciousness sandwiching brandied walnuts, diamond-like poppy seeds and warm apple slices that are smothered in cinnamon-flavor. And the eggs--you guessed it--are not eggs, but they're masses of pillows that are sun-colored and that secretly hide mushrooms, tomatoes, spinach and olives that peer through with admiration.
My parents, with not even the slightest amount of hesitation, asked for the amazing (that's an understatement by the way) french toast (dusted with powdered sugar by the perfect amount) and mediterranean omelette. And my 8-year-old brother eagerly ordered a mountain of coziness (in other words, a hot chocolate; please excuse my enthusiastic descriptions of food that go so far sometimes as to not even sound like food! :P).

Me, well because I had told myself the night before to not overeat and to allow my stomach not to become suffocated from overpleasurizing myself in food, I heard my mouth pronounce the words "I would like a whole grain bagel please," as I finished scanning the miles and miles of varieties of bagels staring back at me.
The bagel, like everything else in and about the restaurant, was delicious; the bagels are undoubtedly the fluffiest I've had, as they always come with the sides of raspberry jam and apricot jam that I can never ignore.
I also washed down each bite of my whole grain bagel with my tall cafe latte, that stood proudly in a tall glass cup and that was topped with a cloud of foam from the steamed milk.

I could go on for another hour about each bite I took out of my bagel and about how satisfying the last sips of my latte were...And even about the tantalization of each helping I had of my parents' french toast and omelette...But I'll stop here so I could allow you the freedom to imagine it :) .

When we left the restaurant (counting it as our millionth trip there), I told myself I was extremely thankful that I had the potential to take a trip to Heaven for an hour or so, in a small delicious building that stood only a few minutes (by driving) away.

Bean out.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Such a Lovely Place...

I've enjoyed this song for the majority of my life, not because of the lyrics (probably because I never knew exactly what they said no matter how many times I've listened to it), but because of the strong ties I feel it stands with my mother who has always claimed it as her all-time favorite song, as I always find myself in an almost rare state of total relaxation whenever I hear the guitar strings play and the voices of the lead singer carry on through the essence of the song.

I honestly didn't even read the lyrics below, but I hope you will enjoy them as much as I've been enjoying every second of its inner and background music layouts. :) :

Lyrics, Hotel California by The Eagles

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
I had to stop for the night
There she stood in the doorway;
I heard the mission bell
And I was thinking to myself,
'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'
Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way
There were voices down the corridor,
I thought I heard them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the Hotel California
Any time of year (Any time of year)
You can find it here

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends
She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys she calls friends
How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat.
Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

So I called up the Captain,
'Please bring me my wine'
He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'
And still those voices are calling from far away,
Wake you up in the middle of the night
Just to hear them say...

Welcome to the Hotel California
Such a lovely place (Such a lovely place)
Such a lovely face
They livin' it up at the Hotel California
What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise)
Bring your alibis

Mirrors on the ceiling,
The pink champagne on ice
And she said 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'
And in the master's chambers,
They gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives,
But they just can't kill the beast

Last thing I remember, I was
Running for the door
I had to find the passage back
To the place I was before
'Relax,' said the night man,
'We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave!'

Bean out.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Blame it on the Summer

The day stops. Night begins.

I see the moon gently rising, it seems to greet me at every sly glance.

Its morning blaze calls to me, then I admire it
Even more.

Nothing else can speak to me this way, more peacefully than any human being can.

Blame it on the Summer for this trance, yet I hope the spell never ends.

NOTE: The title of this poem was inspired by the song "Blame It On the Summer" by Basia.