30 June 2010

29 June 2010

Gray like a pearl, gray like an umbrella

Looks as though I'm an INFJ. Might all be bunk, but I believe! I believe! for I like what it says:

They are highly private people, with an unusually rich, complicated inner life. Friends or colleagues who have known them for years may find sides emerging which come as a surprise. Not that Counselors are flighty or scattered; they value their integrity a great deal, but they have mysterious, intricately woven personalities which sometimes puzzle even them.

L, my love: as with the stars, you lead the way.

28 June 2010

Goodbye. Getting there. Morning. Quite Alive. So Close. Here.

K's photos

We were gone, now we're back. Love was flying.

25 June 2010


Nude with Long Hair (Portrait of Frida Kahlo), Diego Rivera 1930

Spoke to Mao for an hour or so last night; India, Bahrain, Morocco, I think, and now she's off to be a doctor, so the hour or so I got, was a very precious hour or so indeed. And, I'm off tomorrow to visit my first best blonde, the one who taught me, at 19 or 20, about being a girl. We're going to do the best thing to do - mining for pearls in dusty corners. Hello, old life.

24 June 2010


blue-legged J bird in Sweden

The best job in the world must be the teenage boys who stand in front of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul and give female visitors a once-over, for propriety's sake. "Madame," I heard one of them say, "Your shorts is too short."

R. & I stood on a street corner for forever last night, talking about trust, self-defeatists, and the zen of letting the waves do what they may. There's always agency, though, when you put yourself in the waves, and you can get yourself out. We stood, we chatted, night breeze blew. I wore shorts, leopard print. I fear though, my shorts is too short.

23 June 2010

Rocks from Morocco

Lee Miller - Man Ray

Working today on more thoughts on love, and things to buy the one you love. My last thoughts on love, and things to buy the one you love are out in the ethos, lazing about.

22 June 2010

My castle, my books.

Began The Diary of Virginia Woolf (vol. 1 of 5), in the bath last night. Coral perched on the edge, and slunk away with a damp left hind paw. Expect Woolf here, day and night. Though I'm certain you already did.

21 June 2010

Reintroducing Voodoo

A swan family crossed our path yesterday - three little ones, just as it should be.

And: While I don't care much for Band of Horses and Karen Elson looks beautiful, Grizzly Bear brought their bouquet of choral delights to our town last night. I wore sequins, he wore peacocks, we 4 enjoyed a mess of tacos and Roberta's against the backdrop of a better skyline there never was.

18 June 2010

The Smithsonian Guide to Gems is our favorite thing to read

Dearest blonde home from Sweden, dressed absolutely like little Johan, in too-big, very short blue scout shorts, a crisp white petit point top, and neat brown clogs. I'm off to make toast with my new apricot-though-not preserves, and Bergman, he's calling, he's calling, he's calling again. I repeat myself, I know. Do I bore you?

17 June 2010

On Love and Power

In 19th century tradition, a jeune fille would receive a cuff as a gift of engagement and the second, matching cuff upon her wedding. She would then, the lady, wear one on each wrist.

I'm spending the day contemplating what John would give Alice. Same for George and Pattie, Leonard and Virginia, Miles and Juliette. All in a professional capacity, of course.

16 June 2010

On April 17th you were there, and then by May 5th you had changed forms, just like that

I learned last night that another one is gone, a girl from the old days. The way we learn these days is terrible and voyeuristic, and sinks so deep, and I slept last night with visions of a mother feeding her dead daughter's crying, lonely cat.

15 June 2010

In my blood

I need to shove it all into the center, clear the space, sweep against the walls, wave the air clean. Make way for work!

14 June 2010

A night in France for Lily & Richard

Nature in the palm of mankind: marble, statuaries, fountains, cool benches, manicured shrubs, ruined columns. I like my wild, mild, and manicured, covered in the fingerprints of the fauvists.

11 June 2010

My Jezebel email is temporarily, and frustratingly, not working. Please send all correspondence to leighbatnick@gmail.com.

MarCELLO, calls kitten

Looks like La Strada: a clown's touch, and pouf! There goes Love.

10 June 2010

"Summer of Nothing" -LL


We're going to the country.

09 June 2010

My castle, my books.

It's never too late to begin what others sought years ago.

08 June 2010

Morning fevers

Dear Ugliness,
When I dreamed of you the other night I was angry! I was confused! Why were you there? But now I understand: my brain inserted one in the form of another. You, and you, the other too, are horny backed toads.
It is 62 degrees, I am listening to Blonde Redhead, I have a bottle of Fracas, and a pinch of magic from the Pacific Northwest. True, I do regret not buying the psychedelic mushroom poster. But: Ugliness? Good-bye!
Never Yours,

07 June 2010

Medusa hissing pearls

Oh, the wind, the wind, and life on Titan. Better to just pack it in and pop open a bottle. So we did.

05 June 2010

Renegade Craft Fair

L. and his sister S., my favorite Jezebel model ever

Enter our raffle at the Renegade Craft Fair tomorrow, if you're the sort who'd like a $250 Bittersweets gift certificate, a Hightower Botanicals silver maple seed necklace, & some Jez.
We're in booth 246. Oh, and I'm selling kids tees for $5.

04 June 2010

Renegade Craft Fair

I'll be tucked under the blue canopy at booth 246 with Robin of Bittersweets. Other Jezebel friends selling: Digby & Iona, Erica Weiner, Flotsam and Jetsam NY, Foxy and Winston, Loyalty and Blood, Pearl & Marmalade, Sesame Letterpress, Species by the Thousands, The Black Spot Books, The Great Lakes Goods, The Shiny Squirrel, and VeraMeat. Come say hullo! Oh, and I like my iced coffee with just a little drop of half-and-half, absolutely no sugar.

01 June 2010

Love, children

By Bryony Lloyd, for me to hang in a still empty spot over the couch.

Innocence remains

A stocky young man (a big little boy he more accurately seemed to me) came out of the bushes. “I crashed this party,” he said. “Fuck everyone!”

So it was that I first encountered Dennis Hopper...

...I was glad to run into him at a cafe in Taos, New Mexico, where he sported a ten-gallon hat and a five-year-old named Henry, child of his latest (then fourth) marriage.

“Say hello to my old friend Gwen,” he said to Henry.

“Why?” said Henry.

“Because I asked you to,” said Dennis.

“Fuck you,” Henry said.

-"Remembering Dennis Hopper", Gwen Davis

Charmed by the profanity of the child, only after having read a conversation between Hopper, Brook Hayward, and Marin Hopper.