Last years peonies (admittedly twenty-four months, not twelve) may be the swift kick in the rump I need to resume my thorny relationship with my fine weathered 35mm friend.
After the (many) overlapping months, I should have something to say. An unnecessary excuse, a monotonous detail of my life that I try to make interesting, flowery language to beget ornate visions of ...
Much has happened since this day, two or so months ago. Ive never uttered this utterance, but this Saturday (documented by my sandy sneakers & mini-mosaic proto-type) was quite a "benchmark d...
There are dark tulips in the garden. I have taken to traipsing around the garden at night, when the porch lights dim & leave me rooting & rifling my hands through sweet peas, the remnants of ...
sunday songs[or] songs for panic attacksFavorite Brel song.Favorite song to sing in the shower.Annie Girardots face is a winner.
sunday songsor various shades of love songs"I Cant Control Myself" is hands down my favorite song of the past three months (and onward).Do yourself a favor and give Kay Kyser & his Orches...
Ive only had one pomegranate in my life. N. & I were tempted something awful at the Getty to pluck off two round bulbs and crack open the redness in the garden. The inclusion of the word "anc...
Despite a rather "bah humbug"/"oh drats"/"fiddlesticks&# 34; moment upon realizing the Guy Maddin lecture & screening at New School is sold out, I am yearning to view Mikio Nar...
Lately— (Im quite taken with the em dash these days)This song. This cake. The bobby soxer. The sort of thing Ive been waiting for.& oh yes, researching where to tea off (the St. Regis? Lady Mendl...
Somehow Ive managed to: find speculoos, bake two quiches, eat a pound of beets (!), watch seven films in theaters, avoid the slumps, and read two books- all before the span of a week. Based on "p...
Absurdly late, here are a few photographs I took from the second jazz age lawn party on Governors Island in late summer. Heres to hoping warmer weather ensues! Until then, Ill be layering my linen, d...
A tried and true recipe today. Lemonade is my jam; Ive been making lemonade from scratch since I was a kid trying to make a quick buck during summer holidays. This recipe is loose, easy to adapt, har...
Funny how things turn out. Reactions, non-reactions, et al. Puzzling how we use such language to write off situations which are not humorous at all. Save for, perhaps, the odd coupling of sophomoric ...
Nose currently stuffed in Bogies biography. Its a real zinger.
Oddities: not touching a pen (the way I like) for a month, making friends with Alexei the Russian over Francis Lais 1966 score to A Man and A Woman, finding a hundred dollar bill as I rounded the cor...
This was a good day. Have since lost the ability to express much more than that.
I left for Paris one year ago. I was greeted with snow, cold feet, and a cup of tea. I slept for fourteen hours, spent hours bumbling about Monoprix, and in a bout of mal du pays, plowed my way throu...
What is it about endings?
Its mighty hard to muster words these days. & so Ill leave you with two scenes that tend to sum up my own personal feelings (mostly about cinema & Mariel Hemingways face).
Ive listened to a heady, tireless amount of Aznavour lately. I always wonder what throws me into a musical mood. As the season shifts, winter staples are slowly trickling their way into my autumn rep...
The brevity of making my bed has two effects: it takes five seconds to unpeel my comforter from its corners at night and in the morning, during the lifted pause of whipping sheets, the words of Wittg...
La salle à manger, le repas, le salon, moi, avant la porte.Monsieur de Ribiers family tree, a clock with hands, the absent pears, the daily preparation of sauces and dressings, standing before the wi...
Excuse me while I tread the line between wanting to express my thoughts and desperately wanting to remain silent. The past few months have been really rotten. Things appear to be improving and I imme...
Jet Pens, guys. Jet Pens. I am positively itching to receive my package of fountain pens, inks, pencil sharpeners, and erasers. I might even go as far as saying I am itching so much, my anticipation ...
The longer the song, the better. "Willie Deadwilder" is rather winning for reasons beyond its length.
My life would be exponentially better with a dog in it. I get why people like cats, I do, but dogs... dogs just kill me.
Tonight, my stomach is lined in a coat of warm potato leek soup and my throat is a fine combination of earl grey infused hot chocolate and ginger tea. Walking, I turned into several delis and markets...
I am happily humming about my home tonight. Sure, Ive been uncharacteristically cynical and crabby lately; but knitting a winter scarf, nestling into bed with Nox, and napping to the sometimes swayin...
Because my mother bred me into believing if one doesnt have anything pleasant to say, one shouldnt say anything at all- Ill remain silent.
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