2003-09-26 - 5:29 p.m.
I began stirring the batter for the crust in a Big Slurp mug while he sat on the other side of the computer sorting through his music collection. Once again I found myself with a young man at camp playing me music, once again someone composing for me a CD album. But I was concentrating on mixing the flour and sugar deep into the milk when he looked up and took the spoon from my hand.
“What are you doing?”, I asked, as he moved the spoon through the batter, accomplishing nothing. And then I heard: he had paused the music on Spanish guitar and was running the spoon through the batter to the melody. In a certain quality of light, at a certain angle I knew that scene could develop into something beautiful on film.
You should have been there as the audience. So I grabbed my journal and turned the page to write it down for you.
