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23 February 2009 @ 05:34 pm
The dream finds itself relegated to a parenthesis, like the night.
-Andre Breton, Surrealist Manifesto

gypsy cocktails (right gin, green chartreuse, elderflower, lime), rain boot puddle stomping, coloringsnugglingwindrainsnacks, a beard, a dog named tess, book club inauguration. the world is trembling. ready.

teaching:
Heart of Darkness (British Lit, Modernism)
The Virginian (American Lit, Realism)
One Hundred Years of Solitude (World Lit, South American Magic Realism)
White Noise (AP Lit, Philosophy)
The People of Paper (Contemporary Lit, Postmodernism/?)

writing:
about Modernist manifestos.

painting:
my walls, hawthorne yellow

listening:
blackbird's blues, amalgamated sons of rest; i felt your shape, the microphones

Also, this is probably old news, but it's sort of my favorite thing ever, right now. If you've ever wished for a glimpse of my internal monologue at any given moment, behold:
 
 


What's your favorite sandwich?


 
 
10 February 2009 @ 08:17 pm
Please, remember me
Happily

By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range,
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention

But
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04 February 2009 @ 10:44 pm
dear anonymous valentines,

i am available for the following on february 14th. or most days, really.

*spaghetti a la lady and the tramp and a bottle of tempranillo at emmie's spaghetti shack

*annie hall at the red vic

*swinging on the swings in dolores park

*reading our favorite parts of one hundred years of solitude aloud and making out

please sign my dance card below.
 
 
Current Music: lil wayne
 
 
04 February 2009 @ 03:48 pm
 
 
Current Mood: goodgood
 
 
04 February 2009 @ 09:19 am
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison

t.s. eliot, the waste land
 
 
 
13 January 2009 @ 11:51 am
* The Secret History of Dreaming: Writer Robert Moss considers dreams "secret engines" in the history of everything from literature to quantum physics, and from religion to psychology.

Here is a link to an interview with Robert Moss. It made me Think!




*Life Without Buildings: An architect's interview with Charlie Kaufmann regarding the film Synecdoche:

I’ve lived in some very old, historic houses where you often see these hinges that were designed and there were all these personal, crafted details throughout the house. So much thought and time went into it. When done well, they really reinforce the entire stucture and it becomes something more that its parts. It becomes a work of art. And there’s this sense of being spoken to through time. When something like that exists. These people who are no longer alive are there with you through their work.



*This weekend was brought to us by Ritual, Toast, Pelican Inn, and Stinson Beach. Sunday I wandered around North Beach alone, buying books and perched upstairs in rickety old Vesuvio's, drinking coffee with Bailey's and Moby Dick. Ended in the Mission with a margarita and love.

*I am teaching a class on Magic Realism and Metafiction!

images via designsponge
 
 
 
07 January 2009 @ 10:11 am
2009 was rung in with mom and pup, roaring fire and popcorn. We woke up at 6:30am to run three miles through tangled paths along the ocean. Cold-blooded clarity. Everything has been a little bit magic lately, but a sort of different brand. Inside magic. For two weeks I got all of my food from the farm down the road. Santa Cruz, cobblestone, cats. Back to the city, gingerbread fog. Last night I discovered my new winter-time hobby: hot toddies and slow-dance 60's soul at the Make Out Room. I like to think of time, of markers. A year ago, an hour ago, a minute ago. A year ago this chapter hadn't started yet. I wasn't teaching yet. It was an in-between time. Yet I've come to recognize and accept impermanence. Nothing is forever. I always cling so hard--I still sleep with my gray dish rag of a baby blanket. The Letting Go. I think I'd like to visit Kentucky this year.
 
 
29 December 2008 @ 10:50 pm
I think this, my 27th year, is the year I made peace with California. Oh, and in 2009 I am learning to surf.

Favorite times this year:

*Perched on a cliff in Mendocino, stomping in muddy rainboots, reading and waking up to seaspray on my face.

*Lincoln/Tesla '08

*Teaching. God, teaching. No matter what is going on, bad days or bad moods, when I walk into class and start teaching everything falls away but the present moment.

*James Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

*Lil' Buddy at the Phone Booth, Lil' Buddy in the forest

*A boy who Got It, who Got me. Realizing that that's still possible.

*Swimming in rivers. Getting lost on purpose on back roads, A and I just singing along to perfect radio stations that played all of our songs, not caring if we ever got there or ever found our way home.

*Reading in bed with my one and only Judy.

*"You guys...I can't go straight, I can only go RIGHT or LEFT....what do I DO? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

*Camping with The Conspiracy of Beards at the Henry Miller Library.

*Carole King, stoned. River rapids. Swimming til I couldn't move anymore.

*The collected essays of Joan Didion

*My friends. Oh, my friends. I would be nothing without them. Nothing.

*Will Oldham, under the redwood trees, with a kazoo. Fucking magic. Stoned. "What shape would we be if we were a shape?" "A hot dog!" (See: friends)

*Trapped in the Closet Chapters 13-33 (see: friends)

*Hawaii. Laughing. Swimming in the ocean. Laughing.

*Running. Up hills, down hills. Usually at night.

*Synecdoche, New York 

*New family pup.

***

I've been lucky, ohso lucky.



 
 
25 December 2008 @ 04:48 pm
Whatever I do, however I find a way to live, I will tell these stories. I have spoken to every person I have encountered these last few difficult days, and every person who has entered my path during these awful morning hours, because to do anything less would be something less than human. I speak to these people, and I speak to you because I cannot help it. It gives me strength, almost unbelievable strength, to know that you are there. I covet your eyes, your ears, the collapsible space between us. How blessed are we to have each other? I am alive and you are alive so we must fill the air with our words. I will fill today, tomorrow, every day until I am taken back to God. I will tell stories to people who will listen and to people who don't want to listen, to people who seek me out and to those who run. All the while I will know that you are there. How can I pretend that you do not exist? It would be almost as impossible as you pretending that I do not exist.

-Valentino Achak Deng/Dave Eggers, What is the What

 
 
15 December 2008 @ 10:28 pm
The best of the NYT's 2008 Year in Ideas, culled exclusively for you:

AVIAN DANCING If you aren't one of the millions who have already done so, go immediately to YouTube and search for "Snowball the Dancing Cockatoo." There you will see a large white bird balanced on the back of an office chair, bobbing his head, stomping his feet and doing something that — until now — scientists believed impossible: dancing just like a human. This is good fun. It's also good science: Snowball's videos are changing the way researchers understand the neurology of music and dancing. Aniruddh Patel, senior fellow at the Neurosciences Institute in California, got the link from a friend. He saw not just a funny bird but also a potential solution to a scientific argument dating back to Darwin: some researchers say that human brains have been specially wired by natural selection for dancing, because dancing confers survival benefits through group bonding. If that were true, according to Patel, you would see dancing only in animals that, like humans, have a long history of music and dance, which no other species has. The fact that only humans dance has long been seen as evidence supporting the evolution argument. So Patel sent an e-mail message to Snowball's owner, Irena Schulz, and asked to study her bird. "The obvious question was whether he was just mimicking somebody," Patel said. To answer that, he made CDs of Snowball's favorite song ("Everybody (Backstreet's Back)" by the Backstreet Boys) at various speeds. Schulz videotaped Snowball dancing to each version, and then Patel graphed Snowball's movement against the music's beat. "Like a child, he synched to the music for stretches of time, then danced a little faster or a little slower, but always in a rhythmic way," Patel says. "Statistically those periods when he's locked onto the beat are not by chance — they really do indicate sensitivity to the beat and an ability to synchronize with it." What's most interesting to Patel is that this ability is present in birds but not in primates, our closest animal relatives. "This is no coincidence," he says. Patel says dancing is associated with our vocal abilities, not musical hard wiring. Humans and parrots are two of the few species with brains wired for vocal learning — hearing sounds (like words), then coordinating complex movements (lips, tongues, vocal cords) to reproduce those sounds. Other animals who have this ability: dolphins, seals and whales. "In theory," he says, "they may be able to dance, too. We just don't know it yet."

BUBBLE WRAP THAT NEVER ENDS Is there any cheaper, more satisfying catharsis than that of a good Bubble-Wrap-popping session? That pleasing little sound. The release of pressure as each plastic cell yields to the crushing thumb. There are online games and an iPhone application devoted to recreating the experience. But they obviously lack the tactile joys of the real thing. Enter Japan's Mugen Puchi Puchi, a battery-powered key chain with a panel of eight push buttons designed to simulate bubble-packaging destruction. Since the key chain's buttons rebound, users can vent their frustration endlessly. Mugen Puchi Puchi roughly translates as "Infinite Pop Pop" and the toy has been an almost infinite success for the manufacturer, the Bandai Company, which sold a million of the little gizmos in the first two months after it was released in Japan. The product reached the shelves of Target, Wal-Mart and other American stores in late October. At the Sealed Air Corporation, the New Jersey-based company that manufactures actual Bubble Wrap, the anxiety-relieving benefits of the packing material have long been acknowledged. "None of this stuff ever surprises us," a spokesman, Ken Aurichio, says. "Somehow, this product became sort of the icon of the stress reliever." This latest invention can't compare to Bubble Wrap, he says. Besides, at Sealed Air, there's no need for the Mugen Puchi Puchi: employees get desktop "stress boxes" that dispense little sheets of Bubble Wrap to soothe them at difficult moments. Sorry, they're not for sale.

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