>>>

year 26, day 280: "I am the child I was, living the life that was mine," from Anne Sexton's "Three Green Windows"

2011-10-07T21:43:00.000-07:00

I've been reading Anne Sexton, thinking about influence, and sadness, both hers and mine. I don't know what to do with my grief anymore. I have these strange hopes and memories chasing hurt and loneliness and brokenness. It's been a sad few months. I know I've been self-medicating in books and miles. Finally, recently, in friends & family. We used to talk about a more perfect openness, but you are farther than you have ever been & I was never as close as I thought.

Over the past few weeks I've read a number of things that meant something to me. These are a few of them:

"we are the people who held these things; a home is meant to be a container, these things these people can no longer be contained,"

from "Re: House(s)," by Martha Collins

"Vos sos el Dios de los pobres,
el Dios humano y sencillo,
el Dios que suda en la calle,
el Dios de rostro curtido.
You are the God of the poor,
the human and simple God,
the God who sweats in the street,
the God of the weather-beaten face,"

from the song "Nicaraguan Peasant Mass" by Carlos Mejia Godoy, quoted in "The God of the Weather-Beaten Face," by Martin Espada

"All over their arms
wings

did not descend to wrap them up like babies

As promised

still
there is a lot to pray to
on earth,"

from "Scary Parents," by Michael Dickman

"I want to be with everyone here,
with their lattes and mochas,
while the water rises
and the top of the Golden Gate bridge is blinking in the surf,
when the aliens land and eat us,
as soldiers from another country drag us by the hair from our yards,
while the valley is flooded and all its talk about vastness and god has drowned,
I want to know their names, mis amigos, their hands reaching out toward mine,
when the flights are rerouted away from our loved ones,
lets all lift a glass or child into the air, openmouthed
as we watch the final cruelty performed simultaneously
with the last kindness,"

from "Amigos," by Matthew Dickman

year 26, day 229: "There is no night darker than a night of fires," from Italo Calvino, A King Listens

2011-08-17T18:55:00.000-07:00

After an indeterminate hiatus, the lady is back. I've re-jigged my numbering system. With the artist-husband home I've lost count of the days since he left. Lord knows I could never keep a pattern.

I started reading John Cheever today. He kept coming up in other books I would read, mentions of short stories or the Cheeveresque style. I can't converse on what that is, but I'm a little taken with the nostalgia of the preface. Some people play sentimental so sweetly.

After eating a burrito, and then some Apple Jacks, and then falling asleep for a few disorienting minutes, I finished Under the Jaguar Sun by Italo Calvino. I didn't realize until the postscript that he died before finishing the book. Esther Calvino wrote that she would prefer readers to consider Under the Jaguar Sun "not as something Calvino started and left unfinished but simply as three stories written in different periods of his life." Three stories written in Paris, Rome, and Paris. Calvino has this burrowing, repetitious style that somehow obscures and then haunts my patterns of thinking. The writing is brilliant, but it's never immediately clear to me; it sort of descends on me somewhere between the beginning and the end of the story...

A little bit like Denis Johnson. I didn't think I liked Jesus' Son until I got to the end of the first story: "And you, you ridiculous people, you expect me to help you." It just burrows in.

It's been a strange summer. I've spent half of August and most of July thinking about the boxes of cotton talking back, thinking about Lou Reed (via Youtube) singing on a stage in Paris, thinking about year 26 and all the things I couldn't predict.

days 38-42

2011-06-30T00:15:00.000-07:00

Thoughts in lieu of blog-style prose:

I'm dreaming big dreams again, perhaps too fragile to share.

Work is the same: slowly-moving projects, the ever-opening of boxes, and a coordinated dance of polite hellos. I sit in a line of traffic (candy bowl, shortcut) so my desk sees a lot of lunch breaks, bathrooms, raised voices, mail runs, suits and flower prints.

Barry emailed this morning that Amelia had her baby last night. I was also up at 4am, unaware, and typing in a powerpoint. I had a sudden push to do my schoolwork while their (yet unnamed) boy was born.

On the train home I finished re-reading Garage Band. I read it a couple years ago and loved the understated feel of it: blurry watercolors and sketchy lines. I still recommend it.

On a whim I bought it a few months ago with Sam Shepard's Motel Chronicles. Both lovely. Garage Band ends, "and about how things come to an end and begin again." Sam Shepard wrote (about his father, 8/29/80 Santa Rosa, Ca.), "It seemed odd to me how a man who loved the sky so much could also love the land." I am romanced by cadences as easily as he (my gone-away artist-in-residence) is swayed by pictures. In that way, we're both visceral.

One more artist-on-the-brain: Tada Chimako (1930-2003) who wrote:

the hot water

in the abandoned kettle

slowly cools

still carrying the resentment

of cooler water

(from A Spray of Water: Tanka [the hot water in])

and

"So affable are our smiles that they are always mistaken for the real thing"

(from From a Woman of a Distant Land)

day 37

2011-06-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

I'm late on this, but I can't get over this iconic kiss.

Read an article on the Vancouver riots here.
Watch a video of the couple being bowled over by the police (pre-kiss) here.

days 21-36: the day i met joe

2011-06-25T21:46:00.000-07:00

I spent an hour outside of Shaws talking to Joe. Joe's this older Cantabrigian (white jacket, slacks, dirty Patriots hat) who waited under the overhang during the rainstorm. He was listening to this handheld radio and telling me stories about the end of days. He's upset with Obama. He says the country doesn't care who's in the White House, they're just looking out for their pocketbooks. The economy is the number one issue this election, he said. I agreed. The world is getting worse, he said. Look at that tornado in Springfield. Just wait until hurricane season. If something big started in the Atlantic and worked its way up to New England, that would just be it. He told me there was a massive hurricane in New England in 1938 (before they named hurricanes) that had Providence, RI under 20 feet of water. He told me I should have seen Hurricane Carol that hit Massachusetts in the 1950s. He advised that I read the papal prophecies of Malachi, not Malachi from the Bible, he said, but the Malachi who was the Bishop of Arman in the 5th century.

We talked about Whitey Bulger and his arrest in California. That cocky bastard, Joe said, was going on about 'give me a public defender or give me that 80 grand you confiscated back inside my house.' He said the man was ruthless, just another sign of evil in the world.

Joe told me how he worries about financial collapse, and how he's hoarding silver, waiting for the price to explode. He has over 4500 ounces of silver in his room. They shut off the lights, he said, but I'm sitting on all that silver. Isn't that ironic? he said, laughing.

Walking home later I decided I should talk to more strangers. If I'm serious about giving my writing a shot, I'd like to talk to more people. I'm not as interested in my own stories as I am in other people's lives. I felt kind of like Katy Grannan photographing this woman:

I don't remember the story of how they met, but I know the woman loved being photographed and still calls Katy constantly. If life's about making stories, art is about telling them.

I've been awful about posting, but here's a wrap up of the past few weeks.

I ate dinner with Betty and Nellie. Nellie's a filmmaker from BU who just made a documentary about pigeon racing: Young Bird Season.

I went to Martha's Vineyard last weekend with some girlfriends. My favorite part was the ferry. I liked being out on the top of the boat, hair blowing in the wind. We went to a couple of beaches, saw the oldest carousel in America, looked at the town of painted houses, and walked open markets. My friend Aubrey has a house on the Vineyard. President Obama stayed right next door last summer and after our trip, I can see why. It was like vacationing in a pastoral wonderland. I kept having romanticized visions of the Hudson River School.

Not much other news. Quinn finally sent me pictures of some of the art he's been working on. It's so good. I'd post it here, but I don't want to steal his thunder. I'll link his tumblr when he gets back and updates his website. I sometimes joke with Quinn that he loves art more than he loves me. While I don't really believe that, the boy is an artist. If you had to lose your husband to a higher cause I guess I can't be bitter about beauty.

Last thoughts: I had an umbrella stolen at the Cambridge Public Library (pretty damn hateful). I've been reading a lot of poetry (particularly good are Matt Donovan's book Vellum and Kevin Prufer's book National Anthem).

I decided to read all of the 2010 Whiting Award winners. I want to read Dear Blackbird by Jane Springer, but I can't find it anywhere. I am dreadfully impatient with books. I once had a book shipped from Australia because I couldn't wait for it to come out in the states. (If there is one irrational, un-budget-friendly thing that I do, it's that I buy books.)

A couple of weeks ago I saw an early screening of Emma Robert's new movie The Art of Getting By. I liked it. My one complaint (other than the kids being 'NY-too-cool') was that the girl (Emma Roberts as Sally) wasn't interesting. Was 2 hours too short a time to develop both characters? Are women only interesting relative to what males are doing to them/feeling about them? Overall, still worth seeing. In my favorite scene the boy lays immobile for hours and listens to Leonard Cohen's Winter Lady. That about sums up adolescence.

days 19-20: thoughts on loneliness/the frontier

2011-06-10T23:00:00.000-07:00

I got an email from Scott Brown today. He thanked me for my email about the education system and assured me that he understood the important role that public schools play. That's all well and good, but I didn't email Senator Brown about the education system. Doing my duty as an involved citizen I emailed (and called his office) on Thursday asking him to sign the "Dear Colleague" letter circulated by Jack Reed (D-RI) and Olympia Snow (R-ME) in support of federal funding for libraries. I sympathize with the fact that the man is busy, but he needs some new interns. If you're going to send a form letter, at least make it relevant. In case you're interested (and from Mass) Senator Kerry signed the letter.

Yesterday was Dan Hadley's 30th birthday. I met some friends at Life Alive to celebrate. They serve weird organic/fusion food and it's a favorite among friends. I have mixed feelings about it, but they do an amazing wrap (called The Child) that I always get: peanut butter, jelly, banana, dried fruit, and granola in a wrap. It comes sans granola but I always request it. After birthday with Dan I was supposed to meet Rhonda and Claire to watch a movie with the young women in our ward. I planned to bike over but in the ensuing rain I flaked out. I probably should have gotten a ride but my heart wasn't in it.

At Outstitute today (a special women's Outstitute because no boys showed up) I was telling the ladies that my median emotional level is lower since Quinn left. That's not really an excuse to shrug off my obligations, but it is what it is. My choice of media today didn't really lift my spirits. I finished watching Wong Kar-Wai's In the Mood for Love (beautiful story about two people who don't end up together), read more of D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers (sad, power struggle about a wife of a miner who's unfulfilled in her marriage), and started reading Joan Didion's The Year of Magical Thinking (the autobiographical account of the year her husband died).

The boy on the cover is named Thomas. Photo taken in 2005.

Wong Kar Wai. Photo taken in September 2008.

I did read one interesting book not related to loneliness: Richard Renaldi's Fall River Boys. The photo book has been sitting on our coffee table since Quinn left, but I've never looked at it. Fall River, Massachusetts is most notable for being the town where Lizzie Borden murdered her parents. Most of the photographs are portraits of young boys from Fall River taken between 2001-2008. While the photographs were interesting, what I really liked was the introduction. Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours, wrote a fascinating intro on Lizzie Borden, dead-end towns, and what it means to be American. He suggests that Lizzie captured our collective imagination (and was remembered, beyond the rhyme) because she was the "good girl who couldn't take it anymore," the Victorian spinster who "broke under the pressure of that most insidious of ongoing tortures, small-town respectability." Looking at pictures of these young men on the cusp of becoming he speculates about whether they'll escape and wonders if where they're going will be any better than where they've been.

This was my favorite part:

"Any of them could get on a bus and go somewhere, anywhere, though some would undoubtedly do so at considerable cost: abandoning lifelong friends, sick parents, even families of their own. If you take the journey, you will die out of one life and be born into another. There may be no more quintessentially American story than that."

day 18

2011-06-08T08:27:00.001-07:00

After work I went to see a pre-screening of Super 8. I think the J.J. Abrams-directed, Spielberg-produced film comes out on Friday. I’ve been interested in Abrams since Star Trek, and I wasn’t disappointed in his latest. Super 8 follows a group of young teenagers as their town experiences an alien attack. Casting for the kids was pitch perfect and I kept clapping my hands together about how charmingly it was narrated. In a few scenes the emotion would have been better understated, but overall, Super 8 was a pretty, fast-paced film that didn’t take itself too seriously.

On the train to and from work and after-work movie, I’ve been reading. I’m in the middle of Salinger’s Nine Stories. Coupled with Super 8, my head has been full of other people’s narratives: Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948, Boo Boo at the dock, The Laughing Man, the end of the Comanche Club, Eloise mourning Walt, and Seymour with the pistol at his temple. I have three stories left, and I’ll read them before bed. I like Nine Stories better than Seymour; Raise High the Roofbeams, Carpenter; and The Catcher in the Rye. I can’t say whether I like it better than Franny and Zooey because I don’t remember the plot beyond her beating heartbeat. I haven’t read F&Z since Ryan Labonte told me it was his favorite book in 2005. Maybe I’ll read it next. I was thinking about reading Sons and Lovers.

days 10-17

2011-06-07T22:43:00.001-07:00

I wrote this yesterday but didn't post due to spotty internet:

Just to play quick catchup, the past week went pretty fast. I didn't run at all. I spent the beginning of the week trying to get ready for my trip. Wednesday night I flew to Richmond. My plane was scheduled to leave at 7:30pm. Wednesday night was the freak tornado in Springfield, MA. My plane was delayed and didn't leave until after midnight. I ran into Rachel Givens in the airport and we talked on and off over the long wait. She was having a bad day, and I felt increasingly sorry for her as the departure time kept changing.

Over our wait I made friends with the two middle-aged men sitting across from me. They live near Pony Pasture. One was a social worker and the other did employee training. They flew through Boston to attend a family reunion in Maine. The one from Maine moved to Richmond in the 70's to get his masters at VCU. He said he was really prejudiced against the South, but he ended up loving Richmond and he never left. The other guy was from Roanoke. He moved to Richmond on his way to DC ("the big city"). They said they'd both lived in Richmond 30 years now. They told me they're going to Dubai in the fall. The one who does employee training has to fly to Oman for work.

I liked this one because I also like to play themed games.

Someone boasted that they used all 144 tiles. Notice how they spelled "zoo."

My Virginia trip went by fast. I played a lot of bananagrams. My family is really competitive with word games, and this is no exception. More than winning, I think its important to play a beautiful game. If I get a "z" I will never make the word "zoo." I don't want to win if I have to spell "zoo" to do it. There were a lot of lovely words played over the course of four days. I spelled "Jacobean" but was thrown out on my use of a proper noun. If I were being honest, I would also say that I spelled it wrong: "Jacobian." I also used "theophany" but I can't remember anything else. There was a little bit of controversy over whether we were allowing foreign words. Jaime spelled "qi." I have no idea what that is, but she said "if I played Scrabble, I would know it."

This is Tessa.

Tessa, Jaime's 2-year-old daughter, entertained me most of the weekend. Before I flew in she kept calling Lauren "Courtney" by mistake. The entire time I was there she called me "the real Courtney."

Mickael

M&B

Before I left on Sunday I went over to see Mike and Brionna. They have a house off of Hermitage Rd. I can't remember what we talked about, but it was easy and comfortable. M&B are inclusive. The kind of people you've known your whole life and will know your whole life. I've known them almost as long as I've known Quinn. They told me stories about Quinn in high school: how he threw an orange at Brionna's sister boyfriend's head and how Brionna called him at Victors (a pizza place Quinn worked at in Northern Virginia) to tell him off for being so mean. She said he said, "sorry, sorry, sorry" and she said, "i'll see you tomorrow."

Sunday night I had dinner with Mike & Sarah Moore. We went to high school together. They got married last summer and live two streets over from M&B, but they don't know one another. It was nice seeing old friends. Lauren Stewart was there and a few people I'd never met. The things I remember about them were the same: how they're light-hearted and easy to laugh with. Still, it was kind of weird. I haven't seen them since my wedding and friendships are different when you don't know the details of one another's lives. I wonder if I'll ever live in Richmond again. I wrote in my diaryland that I'd always planned to move home, but the city wasn't big enough for me anymore.

I flew back from Virginia this morning. My plane left at 6:50 am and we touched down in Boston by 8:30. The plane ride was fine except a woman sat next to me. In theory I enjoy people, but theories have holes. The arm rest to my seat was up, and when the woman sat down we were touching. She edged into my seat, and I felt possessive, almost territorial over my space. There was no polite way to shove the arm rest down. I felt like I had to avoid her the entire ride.

When we landed I took the airport shuttle to the blue line, rode the blue line to Government Center, transfered to the green line until it ended at North Station and rode the shuttle bus to Lechmere. That's an awful lot of transferring when the airport's only 4 miles away. I walked in the door by 9:00 am and couldn't find my cat. He hides during the day. I unpacked my clothes. I feel asleep in my oddly clean apartment and woke up again at 11. The cat was laying on my arm. I was on the bus by 11:15 and ate at the cafeteria in my building before work at noon. They have great salads but they charge by weight. They should charge by container size like Devon & Blakely, a sandwich shop in DC. When I worked on 14th street (oddly enough in the building above Borders, the building where Mark Twain wrote Innocents Abroad) I ate at Devon & Blakely weekly.

Work was busy. I spent all afternoon playing catchup for missing Thursday and Friday. I'm 90% caught up. I didn't take a break. I have to regulate myself or I won't take breaks. There's never a good time to stop.

After work I went to Trader Joes. Before moving here I thought Trader Joes only sold novelty food (chocolate covered cherries! Ice cream mochi balls!) but now I'm addicted. I bought blueberries and butternut squash triangoli. Triangoli is a triangle pasta. I think the name might take itself too seriously.

On the way home from grocery shopping I rode the T back to North Station. The city is filled with Bruins jerseys tonight. It's been years since the Bruins were in the Stanley Cup so it's a big deal. I don't follow hockey, but I piggyback on the city's euphoria. On the train home I tried to imagine myself as a serious hockey fan. I imagined myself as a season ticket holder, dressed in team gear and going to all the games. In my imagination I was wondering what I would do if I didn't want to go to a game because I was in the middle of a book. My imagination sucks.

days 7-9

2011-05-29T20:38:00.000-07:00

I fell a little behind, but i'll hurry to catch up.

Friday night I rode the red line to Harvard to go to Outstitute. In contrast to Institute, which is a Mormon church-sponsored education program where college-age students take classes on scriptures and church doctrine, "Outstitute" is a small, informal discussion group created by a couple of friends who wanted another venue to talk about church history, Mormon scholarship, and Mormon culture. Usually discussions are topical based on readings assigned for each meeting. This past week we read the introduction to an unpublished book about Mormon theology written by particle physicists. In very loose terms we talked about spirit as matter and the Mormon belief that God has a physical body. The conversation de-railed a little bit into psychology (a discussion of Robert Kegan's developmental stages and what means to be self-authoring), but it was all interesting.

After Outstitute I walked with Lisa to Ivaloo St. and watched an episode of Bored to Death, an HBO comedy about a writer who becomes a private detective. In the episode I watched Jason Schwartzman, the writer, is hired to help a middle-aged man who is being blackmailed. The whole show is pretty quirky, but Ted Danzen is fantastic. It would be worth watching just to see Ted Danzen's character.

I came home around 11pm and got a phone call from my friend Chaunte. She planned to come this weekend, but for some reason I thought she was coming on Saturday night. Anyway, I got her phone call and realized she was just getting on a bus in Manhattan and would be in Boston around 4am. In a classic act of social posturing, I went into whirlwind cleaning mode. I cleaned the stove, the bathroom, the living room, and our bedroom. I changed the sheets, I changed the towels, I put away the piles of winter clothes that were staked out on our coffee table ... I basically built the illusion that we are neat people.

Chaunte called at 4 and said that two friends from New York were going camping in Maine, and wondered if they could sleep over until their friends picked them up later that morning. I never mind having people, so a little after four three very tired New Yorkers showed up on my doorstep, and I put them all to bed.

Saturday morning the two boys in my living room left to go camping, Chaunte slept in, and I went over to Bonnie's house to help her paint her ceiling. I stayed until noon and ran back home to meet up with Chaunte. We went to brunch at Sweet Touch and put together an elaborate scheme to make birthday T-shirts for Max's surprise party. Max was under the false impression that we were going to meet him to see the movie Bridesmaids, but instead Betty lured him to a park where a bunch of friends gathered to surprise him. I talked to Max about it later, and he said his first thought was, "Why are all of our friends here? It's so weird that they were getting together so close to our house and they didn't even invite us."

Saturday night I fell asleep sitting on the Seawright's couch. Dan and Lisa drove me home. When Chaunte came in a few hours later we watched Whip It on the couch and danced like ballerinas in the living room.

On Sunday I walked Chaunte to the T and went to church. I was a little late, but I'll never tell how late. Our friends Marina and Christian are moving to California tomorrow, so I was happy I got to say goodbye to them. Marina got a residency outside of Los Angeles and they head west to the warmer coast. I'm sorry to see them go. You couldn't ask for better company.

After church I came home and played my guitar. I've been too lazy to feed myself with Quinn gone so i ate watermelon and later chips. I have a slide for my guitar that I never use so I learned a song with slide in it. Interestingly enough, it was weird using the slide (maybe I'm not comfortable with it) so I just did the slide with my fingers and it worked out fine. Max, Elizabeth and Chaunte came over in the late afternoon. We talked for a minute before Chaunte caught her bus home. Max and Elizabeth were interested in the controversy over Philip Roth winning the Man Booker prize. Elizabeth couldn't believe he'd won because he wasn't British. Max said, but an Indian man won, and Elizabeth said, but India was a British colony, to which Max said.... so was America. I couldn't stop laughing. Max has been so funny these past few weeks. And also very sweet. He told Chaunte and I how great he thought his wife was.

I went upstairs to another potluck for dinner and read stories to Soren in an armchair. I once wrote about the years spreading my alliances and that continues to hold true. Your friends are your family, the one built and not born into.

days 5-6

2011-05-26T21:52:00.000-07:00

This is the background to my computer. Before Quinn left the background was a picture of a chocolate chip cookie pizza. The cookies were baked onto the pizza. Quinn likes to find weird pictures on the internet and set them as the desktop background. Usually the picture changes daily. I think of it as a rotating gallery that no one sees but me. Ninety percent of the time I like the pictures he chooses, but not always. There's this one picture where a crab has a tylenol gelcap between his pinchers, and I really hate that one.

After work today I started cleaning our house. It hasn't been done in months. When ever we wash dishes I find dishes that we haven't used for weeks. It's really gross, but also not that gross. I can think of worse things... I'm attempting to get our stuff organized. When we moved two years ago we fit all of our possessions in the back of a truck and a pull-behind trailer. That included our mattress and our bikes. We've managed to accumulate a lot of stuff, but most of it we don't use anyway. I'm pretty minimalistic with living space and the less stuff I have around the happier I am. This is the direct result of being raised by hoarders. My sweet Southern parents keep everything. The last time I went home dad got really mad that I threw out the soy sauce packets. He had been collecting them in the plastic container the egg drop soup came in. My depression-era grandma is even worse. She keeps the empty tooth paste containers once all the toothpaste is gone.

Now that I think of it, I might be living with a hoarder. Quinn keeps all of his soda cans, toilet paper rolls, and the little cardboard cards you get in credit card applications. He says the soda cans and toilet paper rolls are to "make something" with, but in reality, they've been sitting in our basement for one year and nine months. Are other people married to artists? Does this happen to you? He must have gathering instincts.

Not much to speak of yesterday or today. Bonnie invited me for dinner last night and made roasted garlic and broccoli penne. It was fantastic, and the second home cooked meal I've had since Quinn left. The first one was when Kate sent me chili and cornbread. It's a little strange living solo, but I haven't been lonely. I feel lucky to have such good friends close.

My days are what they always were: working and reading. I ran yesterday listening to my ipod, and today with Laci's running group. My running looks like power walking but I won't be embarrassed until I get those fanny pack water holders, where the water bottles sit like bear claws on your back. Those ladies are serious.

day 4: the first day of summer

2011-05-24T19:55:00.000-07:00

Woke up and went to work at noon. I work in the library of a law firm on the 18th floor of the State Street building. The views are spectacular, but I can't see them from where I sit. If I lean to the left I can see the sky through the window of Roger's office. Still, its not a bad place to work. I walk around a lot and stare at the city as I pass the windows.

Today Paula said she wished she looked like me: tall, tall, tall and beautiful. I thought that was nice of her. My outfit must have emphasized my height: long pleated grey skirt, loose black blouse, brown wedge ankle boots. Everyone I work with is a fair bit older than me. We celebrate their 50th birthdays with cake in conference rooms. We talk about how they had babies at 40 and how their teenagers hate to wear coats no matter the temperature ("coats are just not cool mom"). I like these conversations. I like the people I work with. Paula has dyed-red hair and goes home with flowers she buys off the street vendors. She wears stiletto heels and reminds me of poppies and public gardens.

I was home before six and ran a loop around the Longfellow bridge. I walked a little by the Athenaeum, but I felt better than yesterday. When I came in the door I tried to make kettle corn. I've never popped popcorn in a pot, but Elizabeth left some here so I thought I'd use it. It burned while I was in the shower and filled the kitchen with smoke. When I got out of the shower I opened the window and made it again. I got dressed while it was popping, tossed it in a yellow bamboo bowl, threw sugar and salt on, and ran out the door.

I caught a bus to Elizabeth's house. It was book club night and we were supposed to discuss Ray Bradbury's Dandelion Wine. In a classic Courtney move I got lost near the Thirsty Scholar Pub. I turned right at The Biscuit, ended up at the skate spot near Dan's work, looped around until I came to Olecito, went right again on Cambridge Street and eventually called Betty for directions. I was an hour and a half late, but I did see some new parts of Sommerville. All in all, I didn't mind. It was a good night for walking.

Aubrey drove me home and I gave the leftover kettle corn to the Wangsgards. They were watching biggest loser on the couch.

It was 40 degrees yesterday and 80 today. It must be the first day of summer.

day 3

2011-05-23T22:09:00.000-07:00

I FELT SUBDUED TODAY. It might be the quiet or the strange hours I find myself keeping.

Yesterday bled into this morning. After talking to Quinn I read until 7 am. I barely noticed the time passing. Around 2 there was ringing from the train yard next door. At first I thought someone was rattling the fence and throwing the trash cans around. That doesn't make sense, but night-noise is uncanny. It sounded like hammering and men laughing, my own Erich Zann, a buzzing soundtrack to the shadows through the curtains. When I looked out the window I didn't see anything, but I wasn't curious enough to pursue it. Close to 5am I noticed the light changing, but I kept reading. One thing I know about myself is that I will follow a story to the detriment of all else.

At 11 am I woke up and braided my hair. I was on the train by 11:30.

After work I ran along the river. There was a lot of stopping and starting. I never found my rhythm, but I didn't really expect to. I haven't run seriously in 8 months. My sweatshirt was too hot against my skin. The only time breathing was easy was on the bridge across Mass Avenue. The wind was cold enough that my sweatshirt didn't matter.

I came home and took a shower. I combed my hair out for the first time in days. I did half the dishes and listed to the Top 25 Most Played songs on our iTunes: Poison Oak by Bright Eyes (94 plays) and Colors and the Kids by Cat Power (44 plays). I planned to have gnocchi for dinner but didn't feel like dirtying the pots I just washed. I had peach oatmeal with dried fruit and sliced almonds.

I started to watch In the Mood for Love, but got distracted. I paused the movie right after they move into their apartments.

I liked this from the book I just finished:

"No man is brave that has never walked a hundred miles. If you want to know the truth of who you are, walk until not a person knows your name. Travel is the great leveler, the great teacher, bitter as medicine, crueler than mirror-glass. A long stretch of road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection." From Patrick Rothfuss' A Wise Man's Fear.

day 2

2011-05-22T21:25:00.000-07:00

This afternoon I went with the Wangsgards and the Hadleys to Rockport, Massachusetts. It wasn't sunny, but it didn't rain. On the way I played this game with Dan and Lisa where we picked songs no one had heard and sang along full voice like we knew all the words. I'm very good at this game. I wish you had heard my Portugese. Lisa said the woman was singing "it's hard to be living in a dream."

In Rockport we walked along the coast and saw the square-rigged tall ship Formidable. They have it decked out in red sails and operate a gift shop that sells pirate-themed kitsch to tourists. There was a crocheted mermaid, a treasure map bandana, and keychains. Logan bought an eye patch. We walked past little shops that sold ice cream, strudel, ceramics, and beach jewelry. Soren looked at live lobsters inside a tank. It reminded me of Provincetown but on a much tamer level. There was a crab-shaped wine bottle holder. The crab held a wine bottle in each pincher. Merry Christmas mom and dad.

At one point we walked up to Bearskin Neck and Soren threw rocks in the water. Apparently the stretch was named Bearskin Neck because a bear drowned and washed up on shore in the eighteenth century. I would have taken that as a bad omen. Still it's no Backlick Rd. from northern Virginia. The road was named after the salt licks that the Powhatan Indians used to attracted deer to the area.

Sitting on the lip of a roundabout I passed out the sour patch kids from yesterday. A man in a red car drove by with the windows down. He was wearing lots of silver jewelry and there was a dog in the front seat. As soon as he saw the tourists he slowed his car and started singing this song to the afternoon. He wasn't looking at anyone, but it felt like a performance. This was a song that he wanted people to hear.

Later, eating sandwiches on benches by the water I made a soccer pun for Logan. Where do all the soccer players get mocha after the big game? At the Conca Cafe.

On the way home we stopped at Wingaersheek Beach in Gloucester. According to Wikipedia "Wingaersheek" is a corruption of the Dutch name "Wyngaerts Hoeck" derived from "Wyngaerton" which means vineland. We ran along the shore, and I stuck my feet in the water. Driving back I drank a diet Dr. Pepper and felt like my mother.

This is me talking to Quinn at 12:21 am.
He's watching a recap of the RSL game.
Our first video chat.

day 1

2011-05-21T20:17:00.000-07:00

Max and I drove Quinn up to Norfolk, CT for his art fellowship. For the first time in days the rain stopped and the sun was out. Blue sky, green trees, and an open highway cut through the rocky hills. We left at 11 and got there shortly after 2. Entering the town of Norfolk the clouds came out. This is not a metaphor. It started raining, and we were stopped by a local pet parade. I didn't see any pets, but I did watch a teenager in a bowler hat stroll through a park like Fred Astaire. He had a pink umbrella, a hot topic outfit, and the lonely gait of the young. There was a huddled group of goth kids underneath a set of stairs. I'm fascinated by how popular culture makes it to small town America.

We finally pulled up to the place. Lots of green grass, mossy stones, and forest. A white clapboard boarding house, a building with studio space, another brick building (I never found out what that was). We met Sam the director. Quinn drew a studio space: number 5. We unloaded his camera equipment and his bike. I pet a couple of loose dogs running around the estate. A big black labrador and an English bulldog. I went to the bathroom: no lock on the door. We loaded Quinn's bag into a van so he could be driven to his living space. I kissed him goodbye, and Max and I were off.

On the way back we stopped at Stop & Shop. I bought salt & pepper chips, two Nantucket nectar drinks, a plum, and sour patch kids. Sometimes we listened to the radio but mainly we just talked. It was nice. I've known Max for six years now. Pre-marriage, pre-moustache, pre-beard. He is still the same nice guy he was at 19: easy to laugh, easy to smile, and thoughtful. I'm glad we followed friends to Boston.

Coming home we got slightly delayed coming off the Mass Pike. We didn't get back until 6. Max was supposed to make crowns for Feast Mass, an art fundraiser, at 7. Local business donated food and alcohol for the event. During Feast Mass, seven artists presented grant proposals for projects in the area. At the end of the evening, attendees cast ballots and the winning project took home the money raised from cover charges. The featured artists wore crowns, made by Max, to stand out. I left before I heard the winner, but the proposals were interesting: local gardening, theater funding, performance art, and documentary film. One group wanted to make pornography to give to people who got parking tickets. They thought nude photos would help lessen stress in a truly meaningful way. (Recently Cambridge started printing yoga poses on parking tickets to help relieve stress.) I wouldn't have voted for that idea (the proposal had some holes . . . ) but I laughed.

I sat with Eunice and Peter for a little while and ate sherbet and cookies. Later I walked home down third street. I feel sad that Quinn is gone, but I don't think my head is quite around it. Nothing much is different yet, i just feel quieter than normal. Tomorrow I'm driving up to Gloucester/Rockport with Dan and Lisa. Tonight I'm reading more of A Wise Man's Fear and sitting on the couch with Whisky. Business as usual.

year of the tiger

2011-01-09T21:38:00.000-08:00

i admit that i don't blog well. i don't keep a journal. instead i just thrive in my inconsistencies. but here's a fair wrap up of 2010.

i got this scar:

and i read these books:

Skim by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki

Stitches by David Small

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

Sea Change by Jorie Graham

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Fire by Kristin Cashore

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier (2x)

Son of the Shadows by Juliet Marillier

The Bride’s Farewell by Meg Rosoff

Endpoint and Other Poems by John Updike

The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson

Wolfwatching by Ted Hughes

Child of the Prophecy by Juliet Marillier

Heir to Sevenwaters by Juliet Marillier

Janes in Love by Cecil Castelluci and Jim Rugg

Regifted by Mike Carey, Sonny Liew, and Marc Hempel

Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher

Heart’s Blood by Juliet Marillier

Wake by Lisa McMann

Fade by Lisa McMann

Amazing Grace by Megan Shull

Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler

Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac by Gabrielle Zevin

Rose Daughter by Robin McKinley

The Secret Year by Jennifer R. Hubbard

Gone by Lisa McMann

The Dark Mirror by Juliet Marillier

The Blade of Fortriu by Juliet Marillier

The Well of Shades by Juliet Marillier

Twilight: The Graphic Novel

Girl in the Arena by Lise Haines

Finnikin of the Rock by Melina Marchetta (2x)

How I Created My Perfect Prom Date by Todd Strasser

Wolfskin by Juliet Marillier

American Widow by Alissa Torres

Foxmask by Juliet Marillier

The Adventuress by Audrey Niffenegger

Face by Sherman Alexie

The Demon King by Cinda Williams Chima (2x)

Mistwood by Leah Cypess

Play it as it Lays by Joan Didion

Whip It by Shauna Cross

Moon Called by Patricia Briggs

Magic Bites by Ilona Andrews

Magic Burns by Ilona Andrews

Magic Strikes by Ilona Andrews (2x)

Magic Bleeds by Ilona Andrews (2x)

On the Edge by Ilona Andrews

Blood Bound by Patricia Briggs

Iron Kissed by Patricia Briggs

Bone Crossed by Patricia Briggs

Silver Borne by Patricia Briggs

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

The President’s Daughter by Ellen Emerson White

Looking for Alibrandi by Melina Marchetta

Saving Francesca by Melina Marchetta

It’s Not Summer Without You by Jenny Han

Faro’s Daughter by Georgette Hyer

Chicken with Plums by Marjane Satrapi

Honey, Baby, Sweetheart by Deb Caletti

Going Too Far by Jennifer Echols

Wildwood Dancing by Juliet Marillier

That Was Then, This is Now by S.E. Hinton

Taming the Star Runner by S.E. Hinton

Rumble Fish by S.E. Hinton

Linger by Maggie Stievater

The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss

The Last Thing He Wanted by Joan Didion

The Six Rules of Maybe by Deb Caletti

The Ex-Games by Jennifer Echols

Major Crush by Jennifer Echols

The Piper’s Son by Melina Marchetta

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins

Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

What the World Will Look Like When All the Water Leaves Us by Laura van den Berg

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

The Boys Next Door by Jennifer Echols

Endless Summer by Jennifer Echols

The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

Seventeenth Summer by Maureen Daly

I Am the Cheese by Robert Cormier

Forever by Judy Blume

The Truth About Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky

Forget You by Jennifer Echols

The Body of Christopher Creed by Carol Plum-Ucci

The Vampire Diaries: The Awakening by L.J. Smith

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Boy Meets Boy by David Levithan

Montmorency: Thief, Liar, Gentleman by Eleanor Updale

Weetzie Bat by Francesca Lia Block

MAUS I: My Father Bleeds History by Art Spiegelman

MAUS II: And Here My Troubles Began by Art Spiegelman

American Born Chinese by Gene Luen Yang

Bad Boy by Diana Wieler

The Exiled Queen by Cinda Williams Chima

Gossip Girl by Cecily von Zeigesar

For Keeps by Natasha Friend

The Burn Journals by Brent Runyon

Heck Superhero by Martine Leavitt

Not Simple by Natsume Ono

How It Happened in Peach Hill by Marthe Jocelyn

White Darkness by Geraldine McCaughrean

Flight by Sherman Alexie

Bayou Moon by Ilona Andrews

Winter Rose by Patricia McKillip

Lament: The Faerie Queen’s Deception by Maggie Stievater

The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen

Wolves, Boys, & Other Things That Might Kill Me by Kristen Chandler

The Wild Swans by Peg Kerr

Urban Shaman by C.E. Murphy

Insatiable by Meg Cabot

Almost to Die For by Kate Hallaway

Some Girls Bite by Chloe Neill

Friday Night Bites by Chloe Neill

Twice Bitten by Chloe Neill

Grimspace by Ann Aguirre

Wanderlust by Ann Aguire

To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino

2010-07-26T21:41:00.000-07:00

William Howard Taft has always been my favorite president. He once said, "I must be honest with myself. I cannot be spectacular." In some ways, he wasn't. I find that likable.

The presidents fascinate me. Calvin Coolidge is my close second. I used to walk the Hall of the Presidents at the NPG. An old boss loved them, and I think her love became my love.

I started this post thinking about Taft because I'm reading a book thats rattling my brains: Patrick Rothfuss' The Name of the Wind. The more I read, the more I comprehend my own underwhelming mental capacities. There is so much to know. If I had one real wish it might be that I could read faster and remember longer.

on starting and loving your family

2010-07-21T22:21:00.000-07:00

after salt, i was reading Melina Marchetta and the daughter says, are you over dad? you've been together 20 years, and the mom says, i've been with you 17 years, and i'm not over you, and the daughter says, but i'm flesh and blood, and the mom says, oh god, i breathe in rhythm with that man, you think that's not flesh and blood?

A is my girl

2010-07-21T22:15:00.000-07:00

we saw salt tonight. it was simple and intense. something between kill bill, the departed, and the dark knight, where all the hope is gone and the heroes go unrecognized. somehow that still works.

--

write now my life consists of reading and bringing home the bacon.

--
addendum: right now i can't even spell.

2010-06-09T18:44:00.000-07:00

a good blog.

thoughts on freedom: into the wild

2010-06-09T18:34:00.000-07:00

2010-06-04T15:36:00.000-07:00

little c. littler l.

far better.

2010-05-05T20:23:00.000-07:00

school finished. met up with my boy. boiled some water singing to david byrne. i didnt know he put on such a show; i'd never seen that movie. the one where he's in the white suit toe-tapping on the bare stage.

in our movie madness we watched another: crazy heart. a perfect film. its going to be a good summer.

2010-05-03T20:44:00.000-07:00

i also feel old but not very wise. nick hornby does youth well. i thought so with slam, and particularly with the screenplay for an education.

2010-03-21T22:51:00.000-07:00

Today, looking for an address, I stumbled on old letters from old friends and old more-than-friends. "I don't know how you can ever stop loving people that you once loved," I said. And he said, "Just remember who loves you most."

2010-02-13T21:31:00.000-08:00

just meant to walk home but we ended up by the charles, over the river and near the mass hospital. we could see into a lighted apartment where the back of a head was watching the olympics. i forgot about the olympics, watching freaks and geeks on the laytons couch and feeling pumped on rock and roll. singing joan jett with patrick while leslie and jonas played the fake drums. blowing snot rockets with quinn, climbing a highway bridge. all i can see is lights and water. all he can see is skate spots and easy graffiti. twenty something isn't any easier to handle than seventeen, except he can grow a moustache and the world takes me seriously.

what were they thinking.

2010-02-01T11:03:00.000-08:00

this is cool.

2010-01-27T13:56:00.000-08:00

art project is going well at the blaaarghhh, though the poll is inconclusive.

i intended to post about my brothers (2), but i haven't made that happen.

update:

read 12 books so far this year
started classes
voted for Martha Coakley
led a book club on The Devil in the White City
saw Amy Stein speak at the HMNH
attended a baby shower for Bonnie
volunteered to fold laundry at the temple
went to an MESJ potluck
drank a Dominican at LA Burdick

downdate:

Brown won
my house is dirty
i need to shower

2010-01-14T17:28:00.000-08:00

once upon i time i grew up in a blue house on a hill. with these girls.

2010-01-12T20:57:00.000-08:00

i never talk about my family, but the next few posts may be about them.

this is my dad.

likes: national geographic, stringed instruments, gospel discussions, fried chicken, conservative talk radio, country music, fried chicken, watching samoan-related videos on Youtube, reading, his family, fried chicken, entertaining, westerns, the la-z-boy.

dislikes: broken internet, cold weather, people parking in his parking spot, birds pooping on his car ("I'll be damned!"), diabetes, "rabbit food".

learned to write: in the dirt with a stick
first wore clothes: age 13
can he fish with a spear? yes
did he drop out of school to dance at disneyland? yes
dad ranking: number 1.

2010-01-11T18:05:00.000-08:00

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

a lot of times i can't focus. i tell myself that if i have to think about anything, then i'll have to think about everything. its clear to me that that's illogical, but it takes focus to reason.

2010-01-10T19:44:00.000-08:00

bless you friend

tired all day. eunice gave a beautiful talk about what it means to believe, exploring belief as hope and questioning our understanding of faith in the wake of self-doubt and inadequacy. i wanted to write more about this, but i was hesitant to give a poor summary without her permission.

i've been listening to a lot of jp haynie. we have loved a lot of music in our days, but theres something particularly special about friends. it feels closer to home.

listen to this song.

2010-01-09T19:12:00.000-08:00

spent the day in newport and providence, RI with friends. it was freezing. despite beautiful views, i was less than pleasant company. at one point quinn looked back at me and asked if i was okay. i believe i said, "i am not having fun, and i have to pee so bad i think im gonna throw up."

20 long minutes later, quinn and i broke into a construction site so i could use their porta-john. the day was saved in the eleventh hour.

heres what i missed in my narrow focus:

2010-01-08T18:35:00.000-08:00

the real/reported story.

miss jane as the lionness of the hills.

2010-01-08T18:29:00.000-08:00

another frontier story.

2010-01-07T17:12:00.000-08:00

adding numbers/AGING

instead of making goals this yr, i decided to keep statistics.

and solve mysteries.

mainly... who is becky?

2010-01-06T16:08:00.000-08:00

ever wonder what it would be like to wake up with one of us? both of us?

after failing at the archetypal family blog, we decided to start a new project. every day this year we are posting a picture of our first semi-conscious moments.

check it out at the gorblog.

2010-01-05T20:20:00.000-08:00

10 for 10, pt. 1

I'm hosting a book club this month on Erik Larsen's The Devil in the White City. I also started reading Charles Bukowski's The Pleasures of the Damned.

it inspired me to write something. ten poems in ten minutes, as is.

sweet

a little something sweeter

stirred in, folded in the dough or tucked

round the edges

II.

what promised wonderland?

what promised Neverwhere?

hanging over us

in shame, i saw nothing but what I

wanted to believe

III.

what are we but ignorance and what can we ever be? how much to be known and who is there to know it and who knows the very most?

Surely not I. And surely no one.

IV.

They say that ignorance is a blessing and a curse. I suppose i have been blessed and cursed by it.

he sat ahead of me on the train and I saw his writing, decorated sketch lines in a black notebook, and straining looking i read his prose in the flashing winter reflections of the windows.

VI.

oh god it was crap

but i liked you all the more for it.

VII.

A friend of a lover once called my sketches "healthy," and in my offense i remembered. but perhaps my work has never been better described.

VIII.

his errant seed, her fragile feelings, tender bond, grown or severed over passing minutes years and time repeated into derivative retellings each with their own budding colors, one small obsession of a very human family.

IX.

(on Charles Bukowski)

what made him the "laureate of the low life?" "TIME" or his common voice?

(on Chicago)

it wasn't nature that named you charmed city, smattered as you were in pigsblood, swathed in growing lights, resurrected in human spirit to raise from the ashes after that poor lantern shed set the world alight.

it was men--the big ideas and bigger heads--that would praise themselves long before their merit rendered empty promises full.

2010-01-05T13:25:00.000-08:00

WHAT I READ.

i read 76 books this year. these were the best:

best graphic novel and one of the most beautiful i have ever seen. the critics called it "nervy and elegant," "deceptively simple, and startlingly truthful."

best general fiction. so perfectly introspective and poignantly sad. it begins "despite what you think this is a story about hate. at least as much as it is a story about love."

others in my top 10/76:

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

On Writing by Stephen King

Pope Joan by Donna Woolfolk Cross

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta

Wake by Lisa McMann

How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff

honorable mentions Shirley Jackson (can't go wrong), Barry Lyga (one of the best YA voices writing), and Eva Ibbotson (predictable but charming)

For a full list, keep scrolling:

Full reviews, all starred and numbered, here.

Pope Joan by Donna Woolfolk Cross
Bella at Midnight by Diane Stanley
Paper Towns by John Greene
Morning Star by Hannah Graves-Kingman (unpublished)
Jinx by Meg Cabot
Austenland by Shannon Hale
The Poison Apples by Lily Archer
First Kiss (Then Tell) by Cylin Busby
Jonathan Livingston Seagull by Richard Bach
Wake by Lisa McMann
Fade by Lisa McMann
Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist by Rachel Cohn & David Levithan
Token by Alisa Kwitney
Garage Band by Gipi
Naomi and Ely’s No Kiss List by Rachel Cohn & David Levithan
Graceling by Kristin Cashore
Chalice by Robin McKinley
Fruits Basket 22 by Natsuki Takaya
The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch
The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins
The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold
Where Inspiration Lives: Writers, Artists, and Their Creative Places edited by John Miller and Aaron Kenedi
A Countess Below Stairs by Eva Ibbotson
Catch Me If You Can by Frank Abagnale, Jr.
The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks by E. Lockhart
The Reluctant Heiress by Eva Ibbotson
What I Saw and How I Lied by Judy Blundell
The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Goth Girl by Barry Lyga
Lowboy by John Wray
Starclimber by Kenneth Opel
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
The Extraordinary Adventures of Alfred Kropp by Rick Yancey
Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta
Twisted by Laurie Halse Anderson
Rapunzel’s Revenge by Shannon Hale
The End of the Affair by Graham Greene
Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut
Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
Evermore by Alyson Noel
How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff
Sweethearts by Sara Zarr
The Morning Gift by Eva Ibbotson
The Actor and the Housewife by Shannon Hale
Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater
Hero Type by Barry Lyga
Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
Savage by David Almond, illus. by Dave McKean
In Me Own Words: The Autobiography of Bigfoot by Graham Roumieu
Never Ending Summer by Allison Cole
Blue Moon by Alyson Noel
A Company of Swans by Eva Ibbotson
A Song for Summer by Eva Ibboston
On Writing by Stephen King
Keeping the Moon by Sarah Dessen
Swallow Me Whole by Nate Powell
Along for the Ride by Sarah Dessen
Fire by Kristin Cashore
Ten Cents a Dance by Christine Fletcher
What I Was by Meg Rosoff
Leviathan by Scott Westerfield
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
Forest Born by Shannon Hale
Lunacy and the Arrangement of Books by Terry Belanger
Bertelsmann in the U.S.A.: How a German Media Mogul Became America’s Largest Book Publisher by Toni Heinzl and Robert L. Stevenson
Book Business: Publishing Past Present and Future by Jason Epstein.
The Willoughbys by Lois Lowry
Carrie by Stephen King
Goth Girl Rising by Barry Lyga
Girl in a Cage by Jane Yolen
Impossible by Nancy Werlin
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
Love is the Higher Law by David Levithan
The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han
Frozen Fire by Tim Bowler
Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger

2010-01-04T17:37:00.000-08:00

I read this book today, and it really resonated with me. Another favorite from a favorite.

2010-01-03T12:37:00.000-08:00

success & failure

these were my goals for 2009:

finish my novel by february 1 Nope. I started a novel in january about people disappearing into shadows. still unfinished. i also started a different novel in november about an alternate quinn and his relationship with a homeless person. also unfinished.

try to get something published I didn't even try. I don't even have anything i would feel justified in publishing. strike two.

actively contribute to the writer's blog strike three.

start daggers with quinn > buy an amp > get a better job fail. fail. fail. in fact, i think i have a worse job now.

go on tour with bummerwolf this will never happen.

visit friends in provo and eat at gurus no, but this could semi-plausibly happen.

rechart my life's course (parsons vs. simmons vs. the great unknown) this did happen, but i'm still fumbling with the future.

run a marathon ha.

move score one.

ride bikes every warm day no, but i will count this as a yes in reasonable fairness.

get out of debt HA HA HA

release a bi-annual zine fail.

have an art show fail.

design and create a fall line fail.

read 200 books including:

a book on html, Le Petit Prince en francais, The Count of Monte Cristo, and Anna Karenina fail. but i did read 76 including a book on html. no to the little prince and the classics.

save money for Japan 2009--Netherlands 2010 no. and no.

study french again not really, although i did join Lang-8.

collaborate no.

read the standard works no, although i read most of the BoM.

go to the temple monthly yes, if you count a wedding in dec.

magnify my commitments ??

strengthen my relationships ??

& be open in expressing my feelings ??

2010-01-02T19:21:00.000-08:00

URDAY

today: cambridge main library, isabella stewart gardner museum, prudential mall, south station, home, reading, pizza, feeling sick, popping pills

andrea = back in NY

betty = reading on our floor

q = reading on the couch

2010-01-01T20:45:00.001-08:00

1/1

andrea is visiting from new york. we played hearts with alana in dorchester then ate at spikes. abbreviated post tonight, but more updates tomorrow.

<--andrea

2009-12-31T14:57:00.001-08:00

<-----------------------------------LOOKING BACK

breakfast party (with max in the kitchen) and your favorite trio at SPIKES (the best of boston)

so what, i like relish. kill me.

<<<

2009-12-30T19:08:00.000-08:00

today: slept until 11, oatmeal, apple cider, balanced budget, finished reading ghost story/novel, q went to the post office and mailed off a print to Australia (not as costly as expected), library, grocery store, pizza, watched walk the line, attempted to play the guitar, q messed with a virtual keyboard and his new ukeleles, and betty came over to hand-deliver a book

i don't have anything to post, but i'm attempting to be consistent with something (anything) in light of the new year.

here's to laying it down and picking it up.

2009-12-29T20:36:00.000-08:00

Dear God,

It's been a long time since I've written. And never so formally.

we drove back up to cambridge yesterday with rich, leslie, and jonas. it feels weird to drive north looking for home, but its here.

2009-11-09T21:31:00.000-08:00

derivative living

i spent six hours today painting. it was a really difficult experience.
this morning, quinn came home from school depressed because he processed negatives that fell short of his expectations. i told him that failure was part of the growing process.
at 10:30pm, when my painting failed, i didn't believe my own advice. the self is an ironic being.

2009-11-05T18:06:00.000-08:00

LITERARY ABANDON

so i'm doing NANOWRIMO

2009-11-04T21:23:00.000-08:00

Quick stats for Fall

30+ days of pizza

17 books read

5 free screenings (bright star, whip it, motherhood, gentlemen broncos, the blind side)

3 classes (conversational computing, publishing, book history)

2 museums (isabella stewart gardner & ICA)

2 music venues (Have Heart's last show and David Bazan's Curse Your Branches tour)

1 trip out of the country (Montreal)

I left out the bad things. I find its better to forget those numbers.

2009-11-04T21:11:00.000-08:00

Truth: My blogging is sporadic.

Reason: Laziness, the excuse that i'd rather live real life than web life, and an insecurity that nothing I record is worth recording.

Truth: I know more weird stuff about Joseph Smith than I ever did before moving to Massachussetts.

Reason: Outstitute, D. Michael Quinn, and a scholarly Sunday School.

Truth: It doesn't bother me.

Reason: In the vein of Rough Stone Rolling, I'd rather know my religion than just have faith. I think it's appropriate to do both.

2009-10-27T17:45:00.000-07:00

Useful Sites

Deciphers fonts in pictures.

Reverse image search engine> when you can't remember why you recognize a picture.

Quick website that converts documents to

PDF format="">

2009-10-27T16:41:00.000-07:00

Ovala Toiaivao Paula Ita:
Hi sis, I just got home last night from a long trip out west of the state for my job. I stayed in 6 different hotels/motels and it was lonely with only me and myself on those kingsize beds, dang it! Btw, Amy was writing you a thank you card and wanted me to add something before she send it and I thought, shoot, these two old hags are stuck in this primitive way of communication. I'm not that old fashioned anymore, I'm hip now and into f/b and bebo and twitter...the heck with this writing postcards thing and sending them out the old fashioned way. It's just too...oldish style! Then again, I tend to forget that you two are getting too old and still stuck in the past, he!he! We still love our old girls though, ha!

2009-10-19T13:10:00.001-07:00

BAD HTML

According to the W3C Validator this blog is using a lot of bad code. If I can learn XHTML 1.1, maybe I will start blogging using a text editor (instead of a visual editor).

welcome to the future!

god bless web 2.0

2009-10-14T20:14:00.000-07:00

maybe my biggest fault is sentimentality. maybe illogical empathy. maybe caring too much about the wrong stuff and too little about the right stuff. maybe being okay with the shades of grey, or at least not shaken by them. maybe thinking outside the box. maybe romanticizing the 0s and 1s. maybe reaching too low or trying too little when I knew the price and the sacrifice. maybe thinking too hard. maybe speaking too soon. maybe this inherited, ever-present insomnia. maybe this desire to write and write and write and make-up, usually self-focused. maybe narcissism. maybe apathy, like he once said. maybe getting lost in the cloud. maybe believing in the magic. maybe having it all and never having enough.

in my conversational computing class we had to respond to a web post about how IT affects us. i couldn't answer the question; it was too broad, and too illusive. tim berners-lee was practically gutenberg. I've said it before, but technology is a communicator and a barrier.

hannah came and went

2009-09-30T16:47:00.000-07:00

it was good to have you little baby!

come & see us again real soon!?

2009-09-30T16:34:00.000-07:00

some september eats: red curry w/kale and baba ghanoush w/ pita + vegetables

look at me with that cookbook (what an idiot!)

our (not so) new apt

2009-09-30T16:06:00.000-07:00

A little over a month ago we moved to Boston. We set up a temporary gallery space in our living room. Send us your art, and we'll put it up. We might even raise you one and blog about it. Pictured at bottom: Baby Tots and Mama Sig (2 generations)

my first day of graduate school, his first day of art school, our first time to eat at the dunkin donuts a block away, the first time i couldn't decid

2009-09-09T19:07:00.000-07:00

e what donut i wanted, the first time we saw the donut shop owner scream at the donut shop worker, ou

r first time half-laughing and being embarrassed for said employee, and the first time we laug

hed about that sketch from the State because we actually knew someone like KARRRRRRL

LLLL.

My first class is

called Modern Publication and Librarianship. So far, excellent. Still, I don't want to take everything at face value.

Money=Freedom she said, and i believed her, but my heart didn't buy it. She only meant to imply that when authors gained some measure of success they had the freedom to try new things, but it looked weird when i wrote the equation down in my notebook. YA Literature used to break taboos without literary merit. Now it produces countless successes without breaking taboos. What does this say about us?

2009-09-06T19:41:00.000-07:00

laurel thatcher ulrich is in our new ward, the cambridge first ward. i got a little flustered and tongue-tied meeting her. like that time we went to hear geraldine brooks speak.

i told my sweet-home-mama about laurel's sunday school lesson on plural marriage. about how interesting church history is to me and how beautiful it is to be in a setting where taboo issues are discussed openly. i really believe what she said, that if we're not comfortable talking about it, maybe we haven't resolved the issue in our own lives. i talked about learning new things and being around other people who really seem to be seeking for knowledge. she kind of said, thats nice, and gently reminded me that sometimes its enough just to have faith. i dont know why she said that. but it kind of riled me. im not struggling in any way with my faith. a lot of times i wonder if we're just playing devils advocate with each other. or if she thinks my excitement for knowledge is leading me down thorny paths. i mean i don't think im spending a lot of time plumbing through the mysteries of God, but even if I was, i don't see why i can't receive answers to any of my questions. didn't he say ask and ye shall receive? seek and ye shall find?

welcome to 1977. welcome to 2009.

2009-08-23T20:59:00.000-07:00

hi mom & dad,

these were the long promised pictures we lost and then found. two disposable cameras from 2007. our honeymoon and first year of marriage. all i can say is, go cougs.

HUNNYMOON and SHOOTING THE BREEZE circa 2006-2007 aka we used to live in a dirty apt with minimal furniture and even less wall space. every surface c

2009-05-26T19:26:00.000-07:00

overed with Mike Giant. The path is the goal.

me impersonating muzzy
sampson impersonating Bast
the highway impersonating the heavens
the sun impersonating that scene from escape to witch mountain

There was something in me this weekend. Something big and rushed and anxious and nasty, swelling past forever, leaking into the five burroughs, even

2009-05-25T18:10:00.000-07:00

queens, which i forget is a burrough. even past that.

my ideal situatio

n would be ridi

ng bikes, sipping lemonade through paved

paths in the washington forests with p

aul simon, quinn, and thoreau. may

be henry miller. maybe grown up anne

frank. talking to the ghosts of my a

ncestors. the

ones i dont know about. the ones who

looked like me. and i trip on the resurrec

tion stone. and my dress gets dirty. we

are all wearing the costumes from

where the wild t

hings are.

i think she was right when she said literature was the only real counter culture.

Let no neglect, no ravages of time, testify to the present or to the coming generations that we have forgotten as a people the cost of a free and undi

2009-05-21T07:37:00.000-07:00

vided republic.
—General Orders No. 11, Grand Army of the Republic Headquarters[1].

a quick update.

i read the Wikipedia article on Memorial Day and learned a lot of interesting facts that have previously eluded me (the birthplace of memorial day is waterloo, ny; the holiday was first observed as a tribute to union soldiers; it was previously called "decoration day"; it was first celebrated in 1865 by freed slaves at a Confederate prison camp who dug up and reinterred Union soldiers.)

we will be in ny this weekend.

H sugimoto

2009-05-11T09:59:00.000-07:00

sailing this weekend was an out of body experience. something between jonathan livingston seagull and charlotte doyle's true confessions. maybe i found my sea legs. or maybe i found my sea mind. watch for us, we are driving these warm breezes down the fair coast. don't watch for us, forgotten like the prophets off sailing to the promised land.

SHE WOLF, mama

2009-05-06T21:17:00.000-07:00

I'm escaping again in fictions.

Remember when this blog did little but post papers and review YA books? Follow me if you want, you intellectuals and girly girls (my pretend audience?)

goodreads.com/cannet

here's the update:

i never did get around to posting those disposable pictures we developed. i blame laziness, poor patience, and photoshop incompetency. that's the gorbott's forte, not mine.

here's some gossip:

quinn got a dramatic haircut and is growing a mustache. also, SHAQ made a video of how much he loves krispy kreme.

here's a secret:

the cirque du soleil is under-appreciated.

i'm not getting enough sleep

should i be concerned about locking my blog?

i think dooce is annoying

opinions are just opinions

2009-05-04T10:35:00.000-07:00

this is where i want to go when we move to Japan:

BATTLESHIP ISLAND aka

GHOST ISLAND aka

HASHIMA ISLAND

just reopened 4/22/09

sometimes i forget how long its been.

2009-04-17T20:32:00.000-07:00

heres to another couple.

2009-04-15T19:42:00.000-07:00

i cannot keep this up, though i swear i've been trying. the time i take for this i steal from important things (i received a twitter update, via text, that quinn is downstairs brushing his teeth. i should be down there brushing mine, though i hate to spit in the sink at the same time.)

twitter has introduced a funny sense of delayed communication in our marriage. i get his tweets to my phone, mysteriously delayed about 20 minutes. the buzzing of my texts across the room woke him up last night. in a weird act of deja vu he stumbled to my phone to find a text from himself from earlier in the evening. technology is a communicator and a barrier.

update of our lives: (a quick list remniscent of brown_sheep)

he was sick today. drinking vitamin c. it made me realize how different we are.

he has allergies.

i do not.

he gets sick.

i do not. (not even from him.)

we waste our time differently:

i read, i cry, i type, i sneak chocolates, i stare into space, i organize, i plan.

he draws, he watches hardcore videos on youtube, he plays mario with contagious excitement.

but we are also the same:

same smiles, same bad reckless hair, and then cut, short hair.

same patterns.

same understanding.

same jokes.

same languages (real and not real)

same favorites.

same highs (today: southbound 95 and the AVAIL of our youths)

same lows (not mine to explain)

i think we are always saying the same thing. he is saying it in less words and i am saying it in more.

once lived twice forgotten

2009-04-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

stay tuned.

we recently found/developed (2) disposable cameras. (1) was from our honeymoon. the other (1) was from our provo past.

BECAUSE I'M ROMANTIC--THATS WHY

2009-04-03T21:12:00.001-07:00

i wanted to write this before I forget. i'm already forgetting. it isn't important, but in that second it was important to me. a moment of ironic clarity with pushed implications and personal allusions.

we were coming up that hill by the mine and i remembered that he said he'd seen that fox, the one i saw a few days ago, patchy and beautiful, yellows, and browns and reds. the one brent said must be losing his winter coat. and i said, which way did you see him? was he coming toward the mine, or away from the mine. away from the mine, that's the same way i saw him. maybe he likes to stop by the mine, sit and think, i said, half laughing in that humanizing thought... but believing the beauty of the idea... i think he went by that house with the horses, the fox .......why i said? not comprehending. i just imagined a big field with food he laughed. aren't foxes carnivorous? i dont think horses eat meat.

and that was the thought.

there it was, with me getting out of the car, smiling and laughing in my unapologetic self-righteousness, there was the thought.

horses don't eat meat. i didnt want to forget my mind racing through waves of gendered stereotypes where strong men crave meat. where that force that pulls and leads with muscles straining, wildness and uncontrollable high hands of kings his shadowfax birthright, takes apples from the pink hands of children. isn't that what they, the HEs, wanted to be? stallions? built like horses or crudely hung like them? *flash* to the beginning of Jospehine's March where father marched home from the fight, returning in nostalgia to a driveway he barely remembered and what he was thinking about as a young boy. i dont know why i remember what i remember, but when people ask me that question about why for me? and whats right for me? in my heart it has more to do with bigger things than i would ever answer. with native braves with bleached skulls in their hands looking the deer in the eye and thanking them for what was taken. i just want life, mine, anyones to mean something more. who doesn't like how it tastes?

010100000101010000010000010000101111100101010101010100100101110001110011101010101010100101001001000100100100100010111100101010111001010101010101000011

2009-03-28T21:14:00.000-07:00

here's to cliches i actually buy into. we drove four, five, six hours today to a small town in MD and i heard the words to songs i've listened to and never understood. he could have just said, i worship you, but he said your shape is the only god i pray to. something about that makes you stop. if i were being honest, i would say that a part of that bothers me. but i still find it striking. you can't deny the power of words.

later this evening i heard the voice of a prophet and this one time, like times before, i really felt with all of my person that i could hear truth as it came cutting out of his mouth. so many things resonate with me, but not all of them are true. i am cracking the code, whatever that means.

drawings at church (1)

2009-03-25T21:48:00.000-07:00

WE ARE NOT TWO (2) WE ARE ONE (1)

2009-03-24T19:46:00.000-07:00

2009-03-23T16:51:00.001-07:00

john and andrew came to visit last week. ate at corner bakery and walked around the national mall. white house. lincoln memorial. maya lin's vietnam. warm weather. good company. nice day.

L-O-V-E from the big orange

2009-03-22T18:45:00.000-07:00

I know I'm late on this. Bardhi sent us all three. We appreciate you kosovar baby.

THOUGHTS 3/17

2009-03-17T19:07:00.000-07:00

My schedule is relentless. Andy and Johnny are flying in tonight and I have no idea when I am going to get to see them.

I have not been keeping a journal. Yes, I keep this fairweather blog, and yes, I charm around twitterspace, but I think the actual, thought-out record of my youth has come and gone without a glance or byword.

I re-read my New Year's goals today. I am behind. But that's nothing new. I needed the reminder.

I have been drawing a lot in church. It seems like the only time in my life where I am just sitting. Hopefully listening. Remarkably, I think it has done good things for my memory retention. NPR confirms this. Maybe I will post my drawing studies. I am very shy about my art. I can always see my weaknesses. I am very slow to share the things I like, even with myself.

Sometimes I think I would like to write a sexual advice column. Something like a modern day Dear Abby where I could speculate about odd encounters with girl friends and regular readers. Maybe I'm an odd fit in that role, but then again, maybe I'm a perfect fit. I wish we talked about sex more. With whoever. Our neighbors and grandmas and strangers on the subway train. It's interesting how hush-hush it is until you turn some awakening, rite-of-passage corner, and then it's still hush-hush but for some reason the adults are giving you winking nods and sly smiles. You are one of us they whisper. Nobody really knows a thing about anybody, do they?

FOR THE BEAUTY OF THE EARTH

2009-03-13T16:19:00.000-07:00

i've been thinking about his post on the writer's blog and the boys lying like brothers in the courtyard of the school. brotherhood and loyalty strike a deep chord in me. maybe i've seen or cried through too many movies. enough to be moved by the sentiment from someone i would love anyway.

i've been flying through novels. i have weeks of this escapist weakness where i argue with myself that these beautiful fictions are changing me and that time wasted is never wasted. so, i reason, appreciation isn't the same productive channel as creating, but i think the more we take in, the more open we are to let things out.

2009-02-28T19:44:00.000-08:00

I decided to be a librarian.

Tentatively, I am going to start a dual degree M.S./M.A. program in Library Science and Children's Literature at Simmons College while Q finishes up at MassArt. I hope to work with children in public library systems promoting education through increased access to literature and technology, particularly among minority populations. I plan to be active in the ALA and the ALSC. I haven't given up any of my other interests but more than ever I think this fits.

2009-02-18T17:46:00.000-08:00

something always feels right about the east coast. something only time can tell you.

2009-02-13T18:35:00.000-08:00

the number one reason i avoid updating this blog is my strong distaste for the formatting. nothing ever looks good on blogger without white space and pictures. i always find myself crawling back to 2005 and my cannet-baby diaryland.

the truth is out.

2009-02-13T18:08:00.000-08:00

i have been stuck lately on what i would call "young creatives," or even once-young creatives, who marry each other.

this is a short list off the top of my head. i think by the end of this year, i'd like to have something much more comprehensive.

tony horowitz + geraldine brooks (writers, both pulitzer-prize winners)

scott westerfeld + justine larbalestier (writers)

mark eley + wakako kishimoto (designers)

john lennon + yoko ono (musician + artist, both activists)

jason hammel + kori gardner (musicians, mates of state)

chris martin + gwyneth paltrow (musician + actress)

dean hale + shannon hale (illustrator + author, somehow author sounds better paired with illustrator?)

alfred stieglitz + georgia o'keefe (photographers)

christo + jeanne-claude (installation artists)

kurt vonnegut + jill krementz (writer + photographer/photojournalist)

....

2009-02-13T11:11:00.000-08:00

America is funny because it hates the words communism and socialism yet its principles are built upon equality and the possibility of the everyday man acheiving great heights.

I am amazed at how RELEVANT my cousin Ian is, in all the best ways possible.

2009-02-09T19:29:00.000-08:00

dear baby bret,

1. hope you have a good birthday.

2. you deserve it.

3. because one time you shredded your t-shirt (and maybe your pants) and pinned them back together with safety pins to play in the misfits cover band a few halloweens back. the night ruth allison wouldnt play her set. i think we left and went to cracker barrel.

4. it was almost as good as the night quinn and i walked into the practice room to borrow the korg and caught you loving a lady. with your bedroom door open. (awesome.) there is something to say about the ease, comfort, and humiliation that comes with close friends.

5. i just remembered that you lent me an e.e.cummings book that i never returned. i think you inherited it from hiro. i regret not giving that back, but i promise to pay it forward.

6. the first time we met, i opened up the door on 429 e and there you were, standing on the doorstep. for book club. you were wearing a grey hoodie. i have noticed that you only wear monochromatic clothing and underwear.

7. i have noticed that you look good in black jeans.

8. maybe the next time i see you you will have the star wars sleeves you drool about. or maybe you and johnny will have given each other more crappy self-done pen tattoos. of straight lines. or squares.

9. bummerwolf.

10. i saw team america world police with you for the first time. and i think that we both felt that patriotic spark.

keep on keeping on.

love you, c (+q)

2009-02-09T19:19:00.000-08:00

i am learning to play the drums. slowly. painfully. maybe today, my second day, my second hour, i have some kind of consistency. a steady thrum of eighth notes on the high hats. and i've noticed how its easier to play harder than softer. when i attempt to muffle the sound of my fingers, wrists flicking lethargically, nothing moves quite the way it should.

maybe a million before have attempted to say it.

...and i will feel my heart drum its final beat if it meant that i have given this my all. (Ali vs. Frazier)