Miscellany

Socks and the City

Yes, I’ve given a lot of thinking to socks. For years socks tended to be the most faithfully monochrome of all pieces of attire; men’s socks were almost invariably black except for sports where they were white. Fashion, however, ever plotting to propel the economy forward, has not ignored men’s socks and now clothing stores offer a great variety of color and design and thus make my own style at once easier, given the offer, and harder, given the variety.  Still, the self-effacing and boring socks hold sway among most men. The kilt-wearing Scots’ hosiery might count as an exception, as they wear tall socks and adorn them with some fancy garter. Yet, to my knowledge, not even kilt wearers deviate from the rule of symmetry.

Miscellany

My Socks Life

For Rima Montoya, with thanks

I tend to give socks a lot of thought. This habit of mine began when my eye caught a picture of some medieval or renaissance chap wearing tights that were not only fanciful, but also different in color in each leg. All of a sudden I was made aware of how fixated we are on symmetry. Being an ornery kind of guy, I decided to go against the grain. But being also parsimonious, at least when it comes to fashion, I would limit my symmetry rebellion to my socks.

            I glanced at my socks drawer thinking whether I could combine a number of pairs in order to wear a given color on my right foot and a different one on my left. It could be done! Soon I discarded the gray and brown nondescript and self-effacing socks in my drawer, retained the more colorful ones, and started wearing different colors on different feet.

Cuina literària; receptes apòcrifes dels grans escriptors, 1

Hamburgueses a l’estil de Pere Calders

            Pels volts de l’envestida inicial de la primavera, la meva dona se’m va plantar havent sopat i em va espetar:

—Tu hauries de fer el dinar algun dia. Aleshores veurem.

            No és que jo sigui un home que es deixa intimidar fàcilment i encara menys per desafiaments a hores tan tardanes, però vaig decidir donar-li una lliçó i demostrar-li que jo era prou home per arremangar-me i posar-me el davantal. L’endemà mateix vaig anar a plaça i vaig encaminar-me de pet a la parada del carnisser perquè em posés carn de bou picada. Vaig dubtar uns moments, ho confesso, a l’hora decidir la quantitat, però vaig pensar que mig quilo seria suficient per nosaltres dos i els nens.

            Arribat a casa, vaig anunciar:

Cuina literària; receptes apòcrifes dels grans escriptors, 9

Recepta per resitir la temptació de la carn, a l’estil de Raymond Chandler

Només volia tornar a casa i omplir-me un got amb whiskey. Havia estat un dia afanyat, sense comptar la rossa-platí que havia resultat no ser rossa. Feia vint hores llargues que no dormia i ja no recordava quan havia dinat. M’havien drogat i amordaçat, per no dir res del petit detall que, per segona vegada, hi havia hagut dues pistoles apuntant-me al cap. Bé, una pistola i un revòlver, per ser exactes.