Archive for the ‘ LANGUAGE ’ Category
She turned me on to music that I never heard before. She told me stories from a cup I hadn’t learned to pour. And I don’t know what hurt it more: Professional journals or perpetual burn holes scarring up the dirty floor. Peace. While I was in the car, uncharacteristically listening to Kanye and Drake, I [ READ MORE ]
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 ]
Soon it will be the 1st anniversary of my transatlantic debut. I wear my London clothes, my London perfume, London shoes, my London walk. It isn’t enough. On foreigners and finance and the future: In a discussion of IRAs and mutual funds, the Danish(?) girl in my class asked the professor a question about the “nature of hedgehog funds.” I [ READ MORE ]
Not to the day, of course, but I still feel dead. “The lust and lilt and lather and emerald breeze and crackle of the bird-praise and body of Spring with its breasts full of rivering May-milk, means, to that lordly fish-head nibbler, nothing but another nearness to the tribes and navies of the Last Black [ 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 ]
But it’s late in the day, and you’re well on your way. What was golden went gray and I’m suddenly shy. Try a little levity. Of all the dilemmas to resolve and questions to ask and things to gush about, perhaps cupcakes are an unusual choice. However– and most importantly– Butter Lane Cupcakes (off St. Mark’s) understands the [ READ MORE ]
I’m not quite sure how Daria can wax poetic about blue Gatorade, but I respect that. It just goes to show… There’s an individual Gatorade flavour for everyone. Whaddaya, stugats? Questo cazzo? LINGUISTICS ALERT! Efi is teaching her Paul how to speak Bulgarian, so now Zhas is teaching me Bulgarian again. Obviously I’ll win. How [ READ MORE ]
My parents are going away tomorrow and coming back Monday because they “need time away.” From what? Conveniently, I’ll still be here, but I leave on Monday. Convenient. During our incredibly lavish dinner at Nobu in Tribeca, (over a spread the likes of which I’ll never see again until I marry an oil tycoon,) Andrew and Dan mentioned [ READ MORE ]
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