Sunday, November 30, 2008
the same Love I take off each night. The fact is
that my life slips out the back door just as I arrive.
Just now, just as I tell you this, while I am looking
for a little dignity under the open wound of the sky,
I am putting down the story of the two lovers killed
on a bridge outside Mostar. And the fact is love is
as extinct as those animals painted on cave walls
in Spain. The fact is, there is not a place on earth
that needs us. All our immortal themes are sitting
on the porch with woolen blankets over their knees.
But who wants to believe this? Instead, I am looking
for the right words as if they were hidden under
my doormat like keys. I would like to be able to report
that the 9 year old Rwandan girl did not hide under
her dead mother for hours. There are so many things
too horrible to say. And I would like to tell you
the eyes of the soldiers are sad, that despite all
this madness I can still kiss your soul, and yes,
you might say I was angry if it were not for the plain fact,
the indisputable fact, that I am filled with so much love,
so much irrational, foolish love, that I will not take
the pills or step off the bridge because of the single
fact of what you are about to say, some small act
of kindness from our wars, some simple gesture that fools me
into thinking we can still fall, in times like this, in love.
Friday, November 28, 2008
this is a picture of my mom and dad on their wedding day. five days after they met, my dad proposed and about two weeks later they married. my mom found her dress at the buckle. for a honeymoon, they went camping in northern minnesota.
last summer, at their 25 wedding anniversary, my mom cried and told me that she loved my dad more now than the day they married.
my sister, recently engaged, is currently wedding planning and, cupcake-like bridesmaid dress aside, it is a pretty awe-inspiring act to watch.
i'm going to be fitted for said bridesmaid dress on saturday... photos coming soon?
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
following pbg's lead...
following pbg's lead...
1. chosen family
2. vladimir nabokov
3. the smell of old hardcover books
6. kitten heels and pencil skirts
7. an apartment made warm by baking
8. rooftop access
10. white figure skates
11. handknit mittens
12. horseback riding
13. crunching snow while walking
14. grocery shopping
18. lazy saturdays
19. orchestra dates
20. the mississippi river
21. opera-length gloves
22. well-written short stories
23. sunday dinner
24. cat whiskers that gatsby has shed
25. star gazing
26. people like oak trees
27. oak trees
28. chinese lanterns
29. the midwest
30. art openings
31. paintings of ships in harbors
34. champagne diamonds
35. brown eyes
36. apple orchards
37. spanish linguistics
38. blood oranges
39. cookbooks by rose levy berenbaum
41. japanese magic realism
42. classy drinking establishments
43. comfortable reading chairs
44. fresh eggs
45. road trips
46. aptly named individuals
49. mason jars
51. engaging conversation
52. big dinner tables
53. gmail chat
54. french new wave
55. men that cook
56. cable patterns
57. laughing until i can’t breathe
58. bengal spice tea
59. old movie theatres
61. tire swings
62. craigslist missed connections
63. playing hooky from work
64. early morning sunlight
65. cat naps with my kittens
67. earl grey
68. rose-flavored anything
69. semi colons
70. the smell of freshly cut grass
71. rose gold
72. russian literature
73. woodwink eyeshadow
75. screen porches
76. hot, humid nights
77. authors of the lost generation
80. red lipstick
81. station wagons
82. climbing trees
83. building forts of blankets
84. my bed
85. edward’s purr
86. dialogue-heavy plays
87. la belle vie
88. giving presents
91. the madison farmers’ market
92. food blogs
93. saying words that end in –sps (wisps, wasps, crisps…)
96. secret admirers
97. handwritten letters
98. typewriters and the sound they produce
99. fresh lemonade
100. eating out
Sunday, November 23, 2008
speaking of leviathans, i have recently finished (?) a short story and would love a volunteer or two (other than christian and louisa) to take a look at it and do a bit of editing. let me know if you're interested.
the snow late friday night was almost the best surprise of the weekend.
last night, instead of heeding tucker's siren song, i stayed in. while i'm sure i missed an absolutely lovely time, it served to remind me that not every moment must be spent in perpetual motion and that sometimes i am quite happy when still.
if anyone is asking you for advice as to what to buy me for the upcoming holidays, you can really recommend to them that they buy this (link removed as it doesn't function anymore); i am quite smitten. also, emily has some absolute gems up - and i mean that quite literally.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I put my ear to your ear and listened
to the echo of your dreams.
That is the ocean I want to dive in,
merge with the bright fish,
plankton and pirate ships.
I walk up to people on the street that kind of look like you
and ask them the questions I would ask you.
Can we sit on a rooftop and watch stars dissolve into smoke
rising from a chimney?
Can I swing like Tarzan in the jungle of your breathing?
I don't wish I was in your arms,
I just wish I was pedaling a bicycle
toward your arms.
chili truffle green beans
castell de remei ODA
asstd. berries with chocolate and cacao nibs
this summer, jonathan was kind enough to help me organize a fundraiser for the 3 day walk for breast cancer - a bake sale at first ave that raised almost $700. embarrassingly, i just finally got around to his thank you. worth the wait? i think so.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
home from the bar and slightly tipsy, the view of snow falling on the interstate through the double windows in my living room left me breathless. i took a photo, but i doubt it will do justice to the quiet in those snowflakes.
this is what i have been craving: long nights of reading and writing and knitting and creating, not feeling bad about hibernating, walks in the crisp dark with only the sound of crunching footsteps to keep me company.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Or the way some of you pull an earthworm
To death. Compare for example, this portrait
Of my husband, the artist, three cocktails in:
Fish in the morning, fellatio in the afternoon,
Philosophizing after dinner. Sucking on
A hazelnut in haze and hard rain, he pulls off
It all: pain, politeness, and unemployment.
I admit, it does please me to think of him
Mourning my death. Tissue by tissue, he'll paint
The orange groves and narrow bridle paths.
He'll arrange colors like music that coats the ear.
So is heartache really a mistake? The question is
Realer than any answer can be: One comes upon
The hills and then the pills. But not everyone,
My little sugar skulls, can eat their mistakes.
Monday, November 10, 2008
last month, i went to the bryant lake bowl's bars and books for the booklove of my life, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, and while I enjoyed certain aspects of it quite a bit, it was too large for me to really enjoy; i've never been one for patiently keeping my hand raised in order to make my point.
in order to get everything i want said said, i've decided to start a book group of my own. it will probably take place in my living room - maybe we'll even get a fire going in that fireplace of mine and there will be a couple bottles of wine involved. Moby Dick will be the first book to read (as i've been meaning to read it forever) and we'll be meeting december 10th at 7:30. so, get on it. you have a month. i'm waiting on your rsvp.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
i have a headache
back in a few
i'm drinking a beer.
you're not at work
me: no, i am.
i'm here 'til five.
also, voting this morning? made me a very, very happy girl. all the optimism in me cannot be contained by my cubicle walls and has something to do with the beautiful mash of english/arabic/spanish all over at my polling place. what was the only word in common in all three languages? OBAMA!