30 June 2010
29 June 2010
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
25 June 2010
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
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
22 June 2010
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
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
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
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
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
14 June 2010
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
09 June 2010
08 June 2010
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!
07 June 2010
05 June 2010
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
03 June 2010
01 June 2010
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.