Archive for the ‘ ART ’ Category
Walked back from BritLit in the warm rain and had vivid flashbacks to England again. Sometimes I think I would give up three of my cracked and cavitied molars just to be less self-aware. And three more to stop the compulsions to blog about it. (Do people have at least six molars?) Class today was occupied by [ READ MORE ]
“With faith in God comes faith in language; if God made us, then it is language that makes us better things than animals. If those who lived in the age of miracles could not be Authors of the world in the manner that God was, then they must have believed that authorship in a lesser [ READ MORE ]
Lord Cut-Glass, in his kitchen full of time, squats down alone to a dogdish, marked Fido, of peppery fish-scraps and listens to the voices of his sixty-six clocks, one for each year of his loony age, and watches, with love, their black-and-white moony loudlipped faces tocking the earth away: slow clocks, quick clocks, pendulumed heart-knocks, [ READ MORE ]
Kate made it where most never been: fixed up outside and broke within. She always said goodnight, knowing the wrong from right. Yow, what a night. Even though I went out into the world and did all my errands, I’m still recovering. Drinking sweet blackcurrant tea (!!!) and eating Wheat Thins with Gruyere. Things are okay [ READ MORE ]
Okay, strike my predictions… It didn’t take me three years. It didn’t even take me three days. I positively adore Have One on Me, particularly disc #1. Guhhh. (Wanna bet my last.fm is going crazy? It is.) The songs give me chills, they make me cry, they make me smile. Even if I’m not doing [ READ MORE ]
I’ve been keeping an eye out for pictures I like, in hopes that I’ll find that one that will inspire me to finish my back. When I was in the process of becoming literate, one of my two favorite things to read was this obscure little book, Little Fur Family by Margaret Brown and Garth Williams. It was [ READ MORE ]
“But wait. How familiar this all seems, how close to ordinary. Crowds come, get worked up, touch and press– people eager to be transported. Isn’t this ordinary? We know all this. There must have been something different about those crowds. What was it? Let me whisper the terrible word, from the Old English, from the [ READ MORE ]
Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sun-burned brain. Tidmarsh wanted us to read Astrophel and Stella to someone exotic in bed. Granted, I’m 5 months late and doing it alone (albeit with a Bulgarian chatting on the line in the background) but after five [ READ MORE ]
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Belonging to the moon. A tall blade of grass. It took us hours of searching to find ways to relate, but neither of us could figure it out. Writer’s block. Like waking up after a long nap to find that it’s still night out and you’ve somehow aged twenty years. Romantic without the romance. Oh, and for Liz, to [ READ MORE ]
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