Monday, October 27, 2003
The most god-awful thing I've read in a very long time:
"And so I danced the night away with this woman who I am in love with, and in intermittent moments I danced with this dear poor girl who I am dating."
I would just like to memorialize this for anyone who thinks it's safe to start trusting men.
"And so I danced the night away with this woman who I am in love with, and in intermittent moments I danced with this dear poor girl who I am dating."
I would just like to memorialize this for anyone who thinks it's safe to start trusting men.
Sunday, October 26, 2003
The Shopaholic’s Lament
Oh, why is it I can’t resist
(stick to a budget, a plan, a list)
that jaunty chapeau in the corner case
the cashmere gloves, the silk and lace
skirt from Sak’s that seemed to me
to be priced in terms of GDP?
But I bought it anyway, and so,
you can see why I have such cause for woe.
My credit card bills are higher than
the stacks of shoes behind the ottoman
(Pottery Barn on sale- I had to, I swear-
you would have, too, had you been there.)
My closet has spilled from its native shores
onto the bed, the chairs, the floor,
so I really shouldn’t be buying this shirt--
but what the heck, one more can’t hurt.
Oh, why is it I can’t resist
(stick to a budget, a plan, a list)
that jaunty chapeau in the corner case
the cashmere gloves, the silk and lace
skirt from Sak’s that seemed to me
to be priced in terms of GDP?
But I bought it anyway, and so,
you can see why I have such cause for woe.
My credit card bills are higher than
the stacks of shoes behind the ottoman
(Pottery Barn on sale- I had to, I swear-
you would have, too, had you been there.)
My closet has spilled from its native shores
onto the bed, the chairs, the floor,
so I really shouldn’t be buying this shirt--
but what the heck, one more can’t hurt.
Friday, October 24, 2003
MEMO
To: All
From: Her Most Serene Highness
Subject: The World
Jonathan and I had an executive lunch today (over sandwiches and tea), at which it was decided that Life should be like a P.G. Wodehouse novel. This joint edict translates to you, the peonry, in the following ways:
A. You must be familiar with the universe and inner workings of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. I suggest you start with Jeeves, push on to Psmith, and work your way finally to Lord Emsworth.
B. You must conduct yourself in a manner befitting the characters of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. Some of you will be very silly and witty. Others of you will be Wagnerian and witty. Still others of you will be charming, adventurous, and witty. All of you, however, will be witty.
C. You should also prepare yourself for strange twists and contortions of Fate that will result in dizzying near-misses and mistaken identities usually involving hats, umbrellas, small dogs, and/or a combination of all three.
D. A suprisingly neat ending is inevitable. Do not resist.
I have spoken.
To: All
From: Her Most Serene Highness
Subject: The World
Jonathan and I had an executive lunch today (over sandwiches and tea), at which it was decided that Life should be like a P.G. Wodehouse novel. This joint edict translates to you, the peonry, in the following ways:
A. You must be familiar with the universe and inner workings of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. I suggest you start with Jeeves, push on to Psmith, and work your way finally to Lord Emsworth.
B. You must conduct yourself in a manner befitting the characters of a P.G. Wodehouse novel. Some of you will be very silly and witty. Others of you will be Wagnerian and witty. Still others of you will be charming, adventurous, and witty. All of you, however, will be witty.
C. You should also prepare yourself for strange twists and contortions of Fate that will result in dizzying near-misses and mistaken identities usually involving hats, umbrellas, small dogs, and/or a combination of all three.
D. A suprisingly neat ending is inevitable. Do not resist.
I have spoken.
Thursday, October 23, 2003
Georgetown is never more Georgetown than in the fall, when the carmine vibrancy of brick and turning leaf thrum through the cobblestones and the icy air. It is a burnished moment caught in a still intake of breath. Count one, two, three-- and it is gone.
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
I love the delicacy of the orchid, the long arching stems, the snowy purity of the petals and the faintest flush of rose around the edges of a yellow heart. Everything about it is luminescent and graceful and ethereal.
And it gives my office just the right touch. :)
And it gives my office just the right touch. :)
Here's something I've been working on. It's a bit rough right now, and I'd appreciate any and all feedback! Yes, yes, I know I don't have a comments section yet, but that's because enetation hates me, and you all have my email address anyway.
In Our Third Year
We are old hands at this art,
or our first smiles hardened
overnight, like icing, would
pass unremarked, glaze
the morning in a sugary
show of goodwill. The sugar
passes hand to hand, the oblique
cut of your hair tips to the side
to hide your face. You say-
Tea is so nice for breakfast.
We should do something now
that the leaves have changed.
Every year we plan to do
something to capture the
day’s decay, a slow pulse
of electron, photon emitted
by the fragrant streets, the
pungent fruit harboring
wasps beneath overripe
skin. I say –
Yes, the weather is too fine
to waste. Won’t it be nice,
together, to share an afternoon?
Our heads bob up and down
two apples floating in a barrel
vague and adrift, echoing now
the motion of belonging once
to a stem, a branch, the same tree.
In Our Third Year
We are old hands at this art,
or our first smiles hardened
overnight, like icing, would
pass unremarked, glaze
the morning in a sugary
show of goodwill. The sugar
passes hand to hand, the oblique
cut of your hair tips to the side
to hide your face. You say-
Tea is so nice for breakfast.
We should do something now
that the leaves have changed.
Every year we plan to do
something to capture the
day’s decay, a slow pulse
of electron, photon emitted
by the fragrant streets, the
pungent fruit harboring
wasps beneath overripe
skin. I say –
Yes, the weather is too fine
to waste. Won’t it be nice,
together, to share an afternoon?
Our heads bob up and down
two apples floating in a barrel
vague and adrift, echoing now
the motion of belonging once
to a stem, a branch, the same tree.
Saturday, October 18, 2003
Today's Word of the Day:
kef n. - A state of voluptuous dreaminess, full of languid contentment.
[Editor's Note]: Today's W.O.D. has been brought to you by Advil. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....
kef n. - A state of voluptuous dreaminess, full of languid contentment.
[Editor's Note]: Today's W.O.D. has been brought to you by Advil. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....
Friday, October 17, 2003
Today's Word of the Day (in honor of my friends):
dolorifuge adj. - That which relieves or drives away sadness.
dolorifuge adj. - That which relieves or drives away sadness.
Thursday, October 16, 2003
Today's Word of the Day:
Shangrilicious adj. -
Of, or relating to, or the indirect response to a good act or piece of food cooked by one Shangrila Willy; the state of being like Shangrila at her very best.
Note: Shangrila's blog is Shangrilicious.
Not to be confused with Shangriligous which indicates teachings in direct opposition to doxological teachings of Ms. Willy.
[Editor's Note]: Today's word comes to us from Blake Rollins. I love Blake.
Shangrilicious adj. -
Of, or relating to, or the indirect response to a good act or piece of food cooked by one Shangrila Willy; the state of being like Shangrila at her very best.
Note: Shangrila's blog is Shangrilicious.
Not to be confused with Shangriligous which indicates teachings in direct opposition to doxological teachings of Ms. Willy.
[Editor's Note]: Today's word comes to us from Blake Rollins. I love Blake.
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Whilst traisping through the virtual aisles at Amazon.com, I ran across this little gem under the comments section of Al Franken's new book Lies and the Lying Liars who Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right (soon to be a Christmas purchase for my dear Papa):
The Psalm of Bush
Bush is my shepherd, I shall be in want.
He leadeth me beside the still factories,
He maketh me to lie down on park benches,
He restoreth my doubts about the Republican party.
He guideth me onto the paths of unemployment for the party's sake.
I do fear the evildoers, for thou talk'st about them constantly.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy deficit spending,
They do discomfort me.
Thou anointeth me with never-ending debt,
And my savings and assets shall soon be gone.
Surely poverty and hard living shall follow me,
And my jobless children shall dwell in my basement forever.
Amen.
The Psalm of Bush
Bush is my shepherd, I shall be in want.
He leadeth me beside the still factories,
He maketh me to lie down on park benches,
He restoreth my doubts about the Republican party.
He guideth me onto the paths of unemployment for the party's sake.
I do fear the evildoers, for thou talk'st about them constantly.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy deficit spending,
They do discomfort me.
Thou anointeth me with never-ending debt,
And my savings and assets shall soon be gone.
Surely poverty and hard living shall follow me,
And my jobless children shall dwell in my basement forever.
Amen.
Today's word of the day is:
charientism n.
An elegantly veiled insult.
This word has been brought to you by the Superior Person's Book of Words and the letter U, which thinks you are a discalceate dandiprat.
charientism n.
An elegantly veiled insult.
This word has been brought to you by the Superior Person's Book of Words and the letter U, which thinks you are a discalceate dandiprat.
Tuesday, October 14, 2003
For Alexis:
Oh the tragedy! The apple butter that I had brought back from Texas, painstakingly spiced and stewed by yours truly and then poured into an adorable apple-adorned jar to be shared with my nearest and dearest has passed from us, never to be sampled (unless you like a pinch or three of broken glass.) In addition, the crock pot shattered, so my plans for making more are temporarily on hold. Life is indeed a vale of tears.
Also, I still feel like shambling Death.
Oh the tragedy! The apple butter that I had brought back from Texas, painstakingly spiced and stewed by yours truly and then poured into an adorable apple-adorned jar to be shared with my nearest and dearest has passed from us, never to be sampled (unless you like a pinch or three of broken glass.) In addition, the crock pot shattered, so my plans for making more are temporarily on hold. Life is indeed a vale of tears.
Also, I still feel like shambling Death.
Also, I have discovered a new found love of the Irish. Behold:
"May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of Damnation that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope. "
Now that's just a pot of gold, pure and plain.
"May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind illegitimate children chase you so far over the hills of Damnation that the Lord himself can't find you with a telescope. "
Now that's just a pot of gold, pure and plain.
Today's Word of the Day is
fossick (FOS-sik) verb intr.
To search for mineral deposits, usually over ground previously worked by
others; to search for small items.
verb tr.
To search; ferret out.
fossick (FOS-sik) verb intr.
To search for mineral deposits, usually over ground previously worked by
others; to search for small items.
verb tr.
To search; ferret out.
I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds-- if by "I" I mean the virus running rampant through my body and by "worlds" I mean my head, my throat, my ears, and every aching bone knocking about underneath my skin.
Bleah.
Bleah.
Thursday, October 09, 2003
This is a test of my freshly varnished echo-space.
Test?
Tessssssssssssssst?
Test?
Tessssssssssssssst?
