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| === [[Jujube/ojo | 👁.👁]] === | | === [[Jujube/ojo | 👁.👁]] === |
| === [[Jujube/past-projects| past projects @ pzi]]=== | | === [[Jujube/past-projects| past projects]]=== |
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| === [[Jujube/moving |(moving) Images]] === | | === [[Jujube/moving |(moving)]] === |
| === [[Jujube/misc | notes, watchlist, etc.]] === | | === [[Jujube/misc | notes]] === |
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| When you later type <span style="color:#F4CA1F;">lemony.space</span> in the browser, you will get to a website that I have inhabited for over six years. I first built it to learn the specifics about the web, but it has since morphed into a living archive of my life.
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| I used to be obsessed with lemons. My favorite dessert was a tart for which you'd use one, and only one, whole lemon for the filling. One year I spent Christmas with my friend's family in Portland, Oregon, a place with <span style="color:#8BA560">moss</span>-covered trees and <span style="color:#8BAF5B">tree</span>-lined streets. My friend's mom kept a lemon tree in the living room. She would have liked to plant it in the garden, next to the fig and chicken coup, but the lemon tree — bright and soft and strong under the Sicilian sun, in a different life — curled up in the Northwestern mist. Its pot became the favorite spot for the house cat, who might have, at some point, misused it as a bathroom. It was a scrawny little tree with two branches and countable leaves, but it bore a fruit.
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| My friend decided to make the tart in honor of the lemon's existence.
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| When the friend visited me in Washington, DC, we made limoncello together. We filled a third of a jar with Everclear, suspended six lemons in a cheese cloth and sealed the jar. The theory was that the vapor, arising from the spirit of 95% proof , would "squeeze" the good stuff out of the lemons and infuse the alcohol.
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| A month later, the clear liquid acquired colors. I was drunk and, coincidentally, proved the theory.
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| I also bought a novel named ''Lemon'', in which the protagonist <span style="color:#DBA19B;">fell</span> in love with a lemon. Around the same time I <span style="color:#DBA19B;">fell</span> for, less imaginatively, a guy. Nevertheless, I told him about the book. I wish I could say he sent me a basket of lemons or, perhaps, brought me a lemonade, but instead he <span style="color:#DBA19B;">felled</span> the bough of my heart.
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| I listened to <span style="font-family:serif; font-style:italic;">Woozy with Cider</span>[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3eYSUxoRc0U&t=163s] over and over because somewhere in the lyrics it was spoken: lemons.
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| The old About page of the website quoted Neruda:
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| <span style="padding-left:60px; font-family:serif;font-style:italic;">which yellow bird fills its nest with lemons</span>?
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| When I learned Spanish years later, I went back to the same poem and read to myself:
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| <span style="padding-left:60px; font-family:serif;font-style:italic;">el pájaro amarillo...el nido de limones...</span>
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| [[File:fall-color.png|50px]][[File:fall-color.png|50px]][[File:fall-color.png|50px]][[File:fall-color.png|50px]][[File:fall-color.png|50px]]
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| <span style="font-style:italic; font-size: 14px; color:#888;">Foliage, Upstate. 2015</span>
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| I don't feel the same about <span style="color:#A0C4E2;">lemons now</span>, but I keep the namesake.
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| It reminds me of the stories that I forget from time to time.
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