Song of the day, 13 March 2026

If you are at the Stoughton Opera House tonight, you may hear me yelling for this one.

Tasting Africa

I've been meaning to have a taste of Africa at Holisac Taste of Africa since I first heard of them a few years back. If I recall correctly, they were in Sun Prairie at that time but they've since moved to the food court at Global Market.

Earlier this week I took a friend's daughter out for dinner at Global Market. She's a student at the UW and I like getting her out of the campus area for a good meal. There were several folks who were very kind to me back when I was an impecunious college student and I am happy to pay it forward. Her mother told me that she'd recently suffered a breakup and was disillusioned with boys. It was my hope that a visit with her honorary uncle and something different for dinner would help cheer her up. Oh, and ice cream too.

The occasion also gave me the chance to try Holisac. My dining companion was initially going to order something familiar, a poke bowl, until we got to Hotco Noodles. The counter there had some samples and I grabbed one of their noodles. After popping a couple into her mouth, she was hooked and ordered some stir fry noodles with tofu.

She really liked the noodles and somehow managed to wolf down a rather large plate of food. You can do that when you're 19. Methinks she'll get it spicier next time. I ordered chicken peanut soup with fufu. Delicious! The soup was mild yet richly flavored. The fufu was just something to dip in the soup. It had a texture that was somewhere between mashed potatoes and bao.

I look forward to exploring their menu further.

While chatting with her I discovered she has taken after her mother and is a regular at a particular campus area bar. Ha! I got an earful about Gen Z men and learned that they are goofy. For instance, many are reluctant to approach women. She complained about having to go up to men whom she catches looking at her from across the bar.

Fellas! Make some moves!

Pouring concrete at dawn

Construction on the apartments or condos or whatever they are to be continues apace at Madison Yards.

Lavender scones, dilly dilly

Last Sunday I had a couple folks over for brunch. I took advantage of the situation to foist my first attempt at making scones on them.

They were buttermilk lavender. There they are just before being put into the oven. I brushed them with buttermilk.

And here they are just after being taken out. 

They turned out well - visually.

Luckily they tasted good too. Mild sweetness to accent the gentle floral taste of the lavender. The texture was Goldilocks - it wasn't super light like Wonder Bread but wasn't too heavy either as with Landbrot. My guests enjoyed them and the leftovers were happily taken home.

Remembering Piper

My lockscreen at work.

Winter is not done with us yet so we have beer

Last night I had the pleasure of taking dinner with my father-in-law. We dined at Vintage out on the west side once again. I indulged myself and had a pint of Ionic Bond as I am all over rye beers**.

It was very tasty. 

It had a body that was fairly light for the style, i.e. - it wasn't very viscous as if it were motor oil like takes on the style by Baltika or Żywiec. However, it was delicious. Full of coffee, roasty goodness undergirded by a rye earthiness. Plus a stiff dose of hops to balance all those malts. A fine way to chase away the late winter chills.

**As long as they're not IPA's. 

Sisu persists

To whomever refuses to take down the Sisu: Road to Revenge poster at Palace Theaters, I salute you.

The Platonic Ideal of the Kaiser roll

A couple weeks back I had a conversation about Kaiser rolls, those round rolls with the starfish-like slits on the top. When I was growing up the Kaiser rolls we ate may or may not have had poppy seed on them but they were all crusty on the outside while being light & fluffy on the inside. My interlocutor had a similar experience in their youth.

We both lamented that Kaiser rolls in Madison lack the crusty exterior. Here's a photo I took of Kaiser rolls, which may have been labeled as Hard Rolls, at Hy-Vee.

Look at how that crust gives! It was soft and not crispy crusty. Oddly enough, the same goes for those from Clasen's whom you'd think would make them "traditionally", i.e. - with a crispy crust.

Am I wrong? Is the crusty outside an optional thing with the Kaiser roll? How can you have a hard roll that is squishy when you poke it? So you don't make the slits to give it that crown-like appearance but you also don't put the "hard" in hard roll? This is just odd to me.

Music, all I hear is music...guaranteed to please

Recently I put a CD shelf together and got all of my music CD's unpacked. Well, most of them. Bootlegs remain in a box. Since then I have bought even more and now have to rejigger things to make room for them on the proper shelves.

The Louis Michot and Alash albums were bought at their shows here earlier this month while the one by Verità Baroque was purchased online after seeing one of their performances at the Madison Early Music Festival back in January. Tomeka Reid - come back to Madison, please! 

I bought The Monks album just yesterday at B-Side. It was neat because I hadn't been there in ages and had never been to their new digs which, I suppose, aren't all that new anymore. The general layout is the same as the old space and the presence of Steve Manley behind the counter gave a familiar and welcoming feeling. But it was really odd to be able to browse without having to squeeze between shelves. All that space is so odd. Ha!

I was happy to see that the King Crimson selection remains strong there. 

Playlist, 10 March 2026

Into the Fray

Shortly after being served divorce papers I did some internet searching for a local divorce support group, one that met in-person. I felt that listening to and sharing with others in my position would be helpful in dealing with the unique loneliness that divorce bestows. Of course I wasn't alone as I had friends and family and Piper and co-workers that populated my life, helped shape it, and give it meaning. But having my wife, the woman whom I trusted implicitly, whom I loved, whom I thought would be my companion through life, reject and disown me made me feel a certain kind of existential loneliness and I wanted to commiserate with others who knew this feeling.

After sifting and winnowing out groups for women only and those with a religious bent, I was left with one gathering where a godless man might be welcome. I eagerly contacted the host and was told that the group no longer meets.

And so I did a little research on books about divorce. If I couldn't be with fellow divorcees then perhaps I could glean some wisdom from the printed page. I say a little because the hunt didn't last too long. My recollection says that the books I encountered didn't seem interesting to me or didn't seem to approach the subject as I desired. From their descriptions they came off as cheesy self-help schlock or perhaps were focused on the plight of people with minor children, a condition that did not apply to me. I proceeded to get on with life, I suppose you could say, largely by engaging in various activities to get out of the house so as to avoid my wife who took a similar course of action.

Things on the research front didn't change until recently after a bout of chatting with my eldest stepson and his fiancée. I came away feeling like I should give them some advice as they look to form a permanent union but also felt quite hesitant since my marriage was a disaster.

This ambivalence got me in the mindset to start seeking out books about divorce again. I ran into a Reddit thread which seemed helpful. In it someone recommended This is How Your Marriage Ends: A Hopeful Approach to Saving Relationships by Matthew Fray and the comments led me to further investigation. I discovered that Fray had his 15 minutes of viral fame about 10 years ago with an essay he wrote called "She Divorced Me Because I Left Dishes by the Sink".

The premise of the piece is essentially that you have be on the lookout for little things in a relationship and he illustrated this by telling of his own marriage and the damage done to it by the countless times he left a drinking glass by the sink instead of putting it into the dishwasher. Death by a thousand cuts.

There is only ONE reason I will ever stop leaving that glass by the sink. A lesson I learned much too late: Because I love and respect my partner, and it REALLY matters to her.

...

The wife doesn’t want to divorce her husband because he leaves used drinking glasses by the sink.

She wants to divorce him because she feels like he doesn’t respect or appreciate her, which suggests he doesn’t love her, and she can’t count on him to be her lifelong partner.

...

She’s fighting for acknowledgment, respect, validation, and his love. 

I felt like he captured a lot of went wrong in my marriage in his essay and sought out interviews with him online. Here's a good one that's fairly brief yet highly informative.

Having read his essay and watched a few interviews with him, it is notable to me how my wife used the same language as he does, which is to say that she used the language of someone who makes their living from helping others with their intimate partnerships. "Emotional labor" is the first term that springs to mind, though I am unsure if he uses it in this particular interview. I'd have to rewatch some interviews but shivers went up my spine multiple times as he said things that my wife parroted to me.

********

One evening a couple weeks or so before my wife filed for divorce, I found her in the kitchen crying after she'd returned from a friend's home. A conversation ensued in which she did most of the talking but, to the best of my recollection, we didn't argue.

She stood by the sink so I made sure to stand at the opposite end of the kitchen from her as I didn't want to be close to her in case she decided to lash out and, quite honestly, I simply didn't want to be near her. Through her tears, she lamented, "I feel so alone!" Two things sprang to mind at this point.

First was that I understood completely. I too felt alone. My wife barely spoke to me by this time and, when she did, it was normally snark and snideness. Or simple, direct opprobrium. When I told her that just bidding me good morning instead of starting her day by either ignoring me and retreating to the carport to watch TikTok videos and doomscroll social media or launching into a tirade by yelling at me from the foot of the stairs would be a good way to proceed, I received a text the following morning that began:

Good morning good morning good morning. Oh joyous morn. 

She was keen on conducting our marriage largely via email - and she had a new email address created for this purpose. If there was an emergency, I was not allowed to call or text her; instead I had to email her.

My wife's ability to simultaneously be spiteful & distant on one hand and seeming to genuinely long for healing & intimacy on the other was extraordinary.

The second thing that I recall thinking at this point was that I was happy. Happy that I felt no desire to comfort my wife despite the waterworks. I didn't want to hug her nor to console her in any manner. Instead I was content to just let her continue to speak her piece at a distance.

She continued sobbing and then let me told me something that I'd known for some time. "I don't mind clutter but the house has to be clean," she protested. Or something akin to that. And this is where Fray's ideas come in.

By this time I had spent 16+ years expressing dissatisfaction at my wife's hoarding, at having to navigate a house full of her hoarder piles, and, in general, clutter clutter everywhere. Some areas of our house were decluttered when she had invited company over but that type of respect was rarely extended to me. At last she had verbalized it. She finally uttered words indicating that she had no respect for me, that she was unwilling to even attempt to change the way she did things because I was not important. Her drinking buddies from the tavern (nice people from what I could tell) commanded respect and decluttering but not her own husband.

********

I felt very stupid after this conversation because I then understood that she had been telling me I was not important, not worthy of respect for 16+ years. Sixteen plus years. To my mind she was well aware of the messages she was sending. And I put up with it. In retrospect, I think that I began to regret my marriage 10 or so months prior to this incident after she issued an ultimatum to me, she began accusing me of wrongthink, and she twisted our wedding anniversary into an argument about politics. About 2 months before this conversation new feelings sank in: shame and embarrassment. I began to feel ashamed and embarrassed at having married my wife after I heard about a visit she made to a couple friends of mine where she shit talked me to the point of making them uncomfortable.

This kitchen sink conversation only served to heighten those feelings.

I am inured to the thought that the regret will dog me the rest of my life but hope that the shame and the embarrassment fade with time. For now, when I think about my brother, I apologize to him. Although I would love to have his support in these times, a part of me is relieved that he is no longer with us to see me stumble and fall, to witness my failure, and to feel Fremdschämen at his brother's ineptness.

********

I think that if I am ever inclined or asked to give my stepson and his fiancée marriage advice I will tell them to look up Matthew Fray. I will also tell them to not be like me.

On reflection, it occurs to me that I have been a deist when it comes to romantic relationships and was in my marriage. Like a deity that creates the universe and then steps back and watches events unfold rather than getting involved with miracles and revelation, I tend to get the relationship up and going on a desired trajectory and then refrain from intervening thereafter, expecting inertia to somehow keep the flame alive. And perhaps my significant other. The plant analogy seems apt. You've got to water and feed a plant, give it its desired amount of sunlight. I am just not good at nurturing relationships.

While I think I've learned a lesson, I have to actually apply it. We shall see how that goes.

Coming soon, 6 March 2026

Seen before a screening of Train Dreams. I really enjoyed it and felt very sympathetic in the wake of Piper's death towards the central character, Robert Grainier, who struggles after losing his wife and child. The Malickian shots which placed him in natural, non-man-made environments were gorgeous. They gave context for the character - a man at home in the woods, away from his fellow men. But he also seeks the company of a woman and has a child with her so he is no misanthrope Unabomber type fellow.

I'd like to read the book upon which the movie was based now.

Oh no! Andrew Scott!

Coming soon, 4 March 2026

Seen at a screening of Blades of the Guardians, which I found to be an absolute blast. The action scenes were fun, Dao Ma is your likeable every man kind of fellow just trying to get along in the world and is protective of his young nephew. Was Zhishilang really that big of a pansy? Did I miss something?

Anyway, just a lot of fun.

A new Ben Wheatley flick! It'll be at the Wisconsin Film Festival but I am hoping to see it at AMC. This frees up its showtimes at the festival for other films. Hopefully. I've seen the trailer for Sirat several times at AMC and it still hasn't played.

Waterworld redux!(?)

 

Out on the town

On Friday night I met a friend at Genna's Cocktail Lounge, the venue being her choice. I could not recall the last time I was there. Walking inside memories of going there to see The Vibro Champs play upstairs back in the mid-90s rushed back.

It felt a bit odd to be surrounded by all the young folk who were my stepsons' ages and younger. Since the temperature outside was well above freezing, many women had their lithe, youthful bodies on display as they were clad in short shorts, mini skirts, crop tops - that kind of clothing. And the young men were jockeying for their favors.

At some point all of the other older folks had left leaving me and my companion to represent the over 30 (i.e. - 50) crowd. Ere long Boyce Johnson, drummer extraordinaire, came in and sat at the bar so we had some grey company for a spell.

My companion and I had a wonderful time. We talked about cats and music and friendship and divorce. She has given me some good advice in dealing with the end of my marriage, discussed her divorce openly, and been very supportive of me these past few months.

A Jethro Tull song came to mind.

Sit down as strangers will, let the stress unload.
Talk in confidential terms, share a dark unspoken fear.  

We made the clasp as I received one of the biggest hugs ever from her that night as she gave me her condolences for Piper's death. 

This was the first time I'd spent 3+ hours at a downtown bar in a very long time. I drove her home and hauled one of Piper's cat trees up to her place where two felines awaited. At first they eyed up this new structure from afar before cautiously approaching it. After some intense sniffing, they began applying their own scents to it.

I am glad it'll get some use instead of sitting around my apartment gathering dust and standing as a monument to loss. When I get a new cat, she'll get a new tree.

Divorce brings on many unexpected things.

Piper has crossed the Rainbow Bridge

The geese were honking, the ducks were quacking, and the first birdsong of spring ushered me down the path to the Arch.

"They're singing for you, Pipey," I muttered aloud. 

Once there the sweet trilling of our feathered friends filled the air as I tearfully scattered the ashes of my sweetpea cat, Piper, at my beloved Acewood Conservation Pond this morning at dawn.

As I began my walk back to my car, I heard the loud squawking of Sandhill cranes.

Spring is here, it seems. Although I had hoped to celebrate its arrival with Piper, I can at least now and forever stroll along the shore and be with her.

Piper

3 April 2013 - 1 March 2026

6 March 2026

I opened a couple windows today as it's quite temperate out and is supposed to be quite warm later. I recalled how Piper's fur smelled after she sat before an open window for a while.

I finished throwing away my beer bottle collection. While I'd hoped to be able to put some on display at some point at the house, the "rec room", as the appraiser called the finished part of the basement, was really the only space for such a thing and my wife had it full of her stuff. Stuff that she admitted to me she would never look at again, much less go through and discard what was no longer wanted and/or needed. Plus she dedicated a lot of space to storing empty boxes because...well, I don't really understand why.

Since moving here I have gotten rid of a lot of stuff. A lot of books are gone, my dad's telescope was gifted to an astronomy student, and now the beer bottle collection sits in a large green bin ready to be recycled.

Simplify, simplify, right?

I am planning to pick up Piper's ashes today. It's going to be hard. But I am looking forward to scattering them so that she has a final resting place that I can visit.

After work it's off to see a movie and after that meet someone for a couple drinks. This weekend holds the promise of a couple concerts and paperwork. And the company of friends. 

Not so splendid isolation

To the best of my recollection, it wasn't long after the Covid lockdowns started that I read something on the internet about The Black Corridor by Michael Moorcock. The author of the piece made the case for it being relevant to our times with its themes of societal decay and isolation. I decided that I would read the book because its thematic content seemed of the moment but also because it was a Moorcock book and one that had nothing to do with the Eternal Champion.

I kept an eye out for it at local bookshops for years but never found one. A couple weeks ago I broke down and bought a copy from someone on Alibris.

I am not far in but I have gotten a taste of the whole isolation bit and feel that the scenes so far with the couple on Earth are very much of the time for a male author, i.e. - very stilted. I have no doubt that things are going to get weirder soon.

Celebrating Agatha Christie

Last weekend I saw The Mousetrap out at Edgewood College, er University.

It was my first time seeing it and I had a blast. And I even guessed the identity of the killer correctly somehow. The actor who played Christopher Wren, Will Koebke, was perhaps creepier for me than the gentle, if at times uneasy, comic relief the character adds to the story because he resembles Andrew Scott and I cannot look at that guy's face without seeing the maniacally evil James Moriarty from Sherlock.

A couple days ago I noticed that the Meadowridge Library is hosting a series of Agatha Christie events. Upon reading the article I was appalled that a librarian described the Sunday roast as "Usually a big pot roast and some vegetables on the side". Two words: Yorkshire pudding!!

I must admit that I was surprised by the events and the attention given to Christie. Pleasantly so. I honestly thought that, since her book that I've always known as And Then There Were None was originally entitled Ten Little Niggers, that she'd be canceled and verboten.

Has cancel culture died down? Or do such minded folks have bigger fish to fry these days? Regardless, I am glad that celebrating Christie's work hasn't caused a brouhaha. I shall have to put some of the BBC's radio adaptations of her works on my phone for some fine listening.

The bright side of life

Despite Piper's death and a large cat-shaped hole in my heart, life goes on and there really are many wonderful things in mine. Sometimes it is difficult to enjoy them or even recognize they exist when I get bogged down in my sweetpea's absence. For instance, it was very difficult to come home from work that first day after her death. I walked in the door and tearfully stared at the couch waiting for her to walk around the corner and jump on it to patiently wait for me to give her a pill pocket.

It gets better a little every day but I still miss her greatly. 

I baked a loaf of rye bread recently.

I used some insta-sourdough dust. 

It was nice to finally give this stuff a go as I had bought a packet last year when I was still living with my wife but never used it while in the grip of divorce miasma.

It turned out well with a nice rye flavor and a good tangy zip to it.

Look what arrived a couple days ago! 

I simply adore this picture. Winter! A kindly cat! Birds!

This was a gift given to me maybe a week or so before Piper passed. I need to get it framed so that it can sit on my desk.

Another recent gift was some coffee from Puerto Rico. 

Very tasty stuff. Very roasty and a bit nutty.

I hung my print of Grabby.

One of Piper to follow.

Lastly, for now, I'll mention that Shemekia Copeland put on a great show last week. 

Lousy picture, I know. One thing I love about her is how positive she is. In addition to catchy melodies and booty-shakin' grooves, her songs are often about hope and being kind to one another. She certainly recognizes hardships in life but she emphasizes beauty.

She mentioned that she'll be back here in Madison this summer at one of our numerous festivals.