Set my sadel upon Suffre-til-I-se-my-tyme

the going-away party dragged on. i started it at noon and lasted until shortly before midnight. people trickled in and out but never formed a large group. they came cautiously, like a skittish rabbit venturing across a fox field towards a patch of sweet grass, because they were worried they would be conscripted to move furniture. it wasn't a party, i would say if i were to speak carefully. there was beer and there was meat, but it couldn't be a party because there was also a cooler full of iced tea, and no place for anyone to sit. if people had danced, or if there had been music, then it could have been a party despite the iced tea. but even then, the moral environment wouldn't have suggested a party. there was no music because i unplugged everything except the air conditioner.

if I judge by Simone de Beauvoir's definition (infra), this may have been the anti-party. the present is what is unsettling, and the future is to be apotheosized. days have been moving by lazily, smoothly, with good fortune. hope has not magnified or attenuated by any noticeable amount during the past month or so. the occasion was a house-cooling.

Pour moi, la fête est avant tout une ardente apothéose du présent, en face de l'inquiétude de l'avenir; un calme écoulement de jours heureux ne suscite pas de fete: mais si, au sein du malheur, l'espoir renaît, si l'on retrouve une prise sur le monde et sur le temps, alors l'instant se met à flamber, on peut s'y enfermer et se consumer en lui: c'est fête.

the picnic shoulder, whence i would pull pork, i chose to roast uncovered at 325F, adding stock or water to the pan as needed. there should never be any serious amount of liquid in the pan, because the skin must get crispy, i can say now. since the skin got crispy, i chose to remove the bone and apply the cleaver to the meat. the bits of skin improved the texture and flavor of the overall pulled pork. a similar technique applied to a fatty brisket rendered a good portion of the fat and made a crispy shell. it lent itself to slicing.

certain elements of high society wanted to leave the occasion sans façons, so they declared a final final going away breakfast the next day, which would be occasion for the final goodbye procedures. duylinh and i really wanted to avoid this, so we worked as if we were going to finish everything by 3AM then steal away into the night. that didn't happen, but it came close to happening.