February 2012
46 posts
“I wish we could spend July by the sea, browning ourselves and feeling...”
– Zelda Fitzgerald (via youngfolksociety)
The Lit Bit
Maera lay still, his head on his arms, his face in the sand. He felt warm and sticky from the bleeding. Each time he felt the horn coming. Sometimes the bull only bumped him with his head. Once the horn went all the way through him and he felt it go into the sand. Someone had the bull by the tail. They were swearing at him and flopping the cape in his face. Then the bull was gone. Some men picked...
GOOD EATS
These cookies scream NOMZ. Peanut butter and Nutella swirl. Mmmm… Recipe here!
Saturday Morning.
I haven’t had a slow Saturday morning in a while. I’m still in bed, eating my second bowl of cocoa puffs (best), looking through magazines and cutting out heart shapes from colorful clippings I like for my grandmother’s birthday card, just staying warm under the covers, dreaming, thinking about what I want to do with my life today and what I want to do after graduation, and...
Lend me your ear
In light of the fact that my life has been confined to the Reference section of Bobst, my walks to Bobst, my walks from Bobst, and just BOBST in general, I really take advantage of the times I spend outside it, and even if I’m just walking to class, I try to plug in to hear something inspiring or just groovy, even if it’s just one song, just to try and change my mental pace or to hear...
On my mind.
As of late, life has been hectic, heavy, and haphazard, which is why I want to dedicate a post to all of the mental clippings I’ve been collecting recently, of colors, patterns, ideas that I’m drawn to that have accumulated and need to be thrown onto a metaphorical/virtual canvas by means of a blog post. I think it’s a disservice to the ideas themselves, but this is within the...
“How do you like them egg rolls, Mr. Goldstone?”
– Lucille Bluth, “Beef Consommé.”
“But we were never lonely and never afraid when we were together. I know that the...”
– Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms.
“The mind always tries to break out of confinement. It has tried every sort of...”
– William Carlos Williams, from a letter to John C. Thirlwall, 13 January 1955.
Something magical.
I slammed the door shut, embarrassed by my blundering and determined to forget her. But Ximena Ortiz prevented that. She sent me messages with mutual friends, provocative notes, brutal threats, while she spread the rumor that we were mad with love for each other though we hadn’t exchanged a word. She was impossible to resist. She had the eyes of a wildcat, a body as provocative with clothes...
Something to read.
anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter he sang his didn’t he danced his did Women and men(both little and small) cared for anyone not at all they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same sun moon stars rain children guessed(but only a few and down they forgot as up they grew autumn winter spring summer) that noone loved him...
“P-E-T-R-I-F-I-C-A-T-I-O-N. Petrification! I do not intend to devote my prime to...”
– Miss Jean Brodie from The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.
Something I love.
So long as Love held power over me and accustomed me to his lordship, that as he seemed harsh to me at first, so now he seems sweet in my heart. And so when he takes away my courage, and my spirits seem to fly away, then I feel throughout my soul such sweetness that my face pales and then Love holds such power over me, that he makes my spirits go speaking, and always calling on my lady to grant me...
“Make your ego porous. The will is of little importance, complaining is nothing....”
– Rainer Maria Rilke
Something to read.
it may not always be so; and i say that if your lips, which i have loved, should touch another’s, and your dear strong fingers clutch his heart, as mine in time not far away; if on another’s face your sweet hair lay in such a silence as i know, or such great writhing words as, uttering overmuch, stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be,i say if this should...
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East Village Treasures.
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Something to read.
There had hung the sense of buffering, insulation, she had noticed the absence of an intensity, as if watching a movie, just perceptibly out of focus, that the projectionist refused to fix. And has also gently conned into the curious, Rapunzel-like role of a pensive girl somehow, magically, prisoner among the pines and salt fogs of a Kinneret, looking for somebody to say hey, let down your hair....
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Ray, you're a poet.
The sun died The sun died, with my love When you left me blue, the summer died too My love and the sun, it’s the same The sun died The sun died, with my love And I’m so alone, and yet life goes on But for me, there can be no more dawn Yesterday, the coldest winter was like Spring I thought my love would always stay I thought our love would never end But that was yesterday The sun...
JCrew | 770 Behind The Line: Behind the Seams:... →
jcrew:
we talked to a couple of our in-house sweater experts, Andrea and Natalie, to get the inside scoop on the design team’s most recent journey to Florence, Italy, for Pitti Filati—the world’s largest yarn show
Showstopper: Pitti Filati is like the Oscars of yarn shows. Top designers from…
At the moment:
eyes | the beauteous solange knowles (http://mydamnblog.com/)
ears | affinity by bill evans. all of it. the whole thing. so good.
nose | peppermint tea
mouth | nothing; ate a wonderful meal tonight with family friends who are more family than friends.
hands | on these keys, penciling in to-dos in my planner, writing writing writing.
mind | florence jazz club, cocktails, the arno at...
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“I hold this to be the highest task for a bond between two people: that each...”
– Rainer Maria Rilke
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Something I'm thinking about.
I appreciate when, some mornings, the sun outside oh so far far away in solar space somehow manages to to find its way through all of these apartment buildings stacked up and pushed and smushed against each other like the N train at Times Square at 4:50pm on a Friday, and somehow sneaks its way into my bedroom, shining, albeit subtly, through my windows. A southern California native, sunshine has...
Something I learned about.
This is extremely belated, and since I’m sitting at a coffee shop where a group of people all with very loud voices and very important things to say just walked in, interfering with my reading, I am capitalizing on this otherwise irritating situation to get around to this post.
As I mentioned a couple or so weeks ago, I took a silkscreening class during January to finish my Studio Art...
Something to read.
“Human grandeur,” said Pangloss, “is very dangerous, if we believe the testimonies of almost all philosophers; for we find Eglon, King of Moab, was assassinated by Aod; Absalom was hanged by the hair of his head, and run through with three darts; King Nadab, son of Jeroboam, was slain by Baaza; King Ela by Zimri; Okosias by Jehu; Athaliah by Jehoiada; the Kings Jehooiakim,...