31 August 2010

Custom, uncustomary

Programs for this past weekend's perfect nuptials; ceremony and cocktails behind an 18th century stone house, party and bonfire at the barn swathed in foliage and paper lanterns. Petit fours were served and they danced to "Flesh and Blood."

30 August 2010

Estate of transformation

The world was greener this weekend. Mouths, branches, opened wide, drew in, poured out thick, deep, chlorophyll hues: last gasp of summer. One of our girls got married in the mountains, and she gave us a gift of finding each other, together again, for the first time in half-a-decade or so. We stood in an airstrip and stared at the stars. We came home with a dragon kimono, some pink glass, and my heels are plastered with grass.

25 August 2010


photo from ?

Cleaning house, posting Loves, listening to Beach House, in anticipation of the arrival of my best Bahraini-Middle Western girl.

24 August 2010

My Daisy

Yesterday I held Helen, spied The Garden, heard Happiness, laughed with my mother and brothers, signed up for a writing workshop with FRANCESCA LIA BLOCK without moving to Shangri-L.A., and waited for him to come home.

23 August 2010

Tulip tables & emerald earrings

our house by Alice Engel

Bored? Vote for our Home for the Stationery Heart in the CB2 - The Selby contest. Teepee and Coral really want their portrait done, Selby-style.

20 August 2010

My castle, my books.

Reading, or for a moment, fitfully submerged in, Elizabeth Hardwick's Sleepless Nights. Hardwick, on Billie Holiday:

She was late for her mother's funeral. At last she arrived, ferociously appropriate in a black turban...Her mother, Sadie Holiday, was short and sentimental, bewildered to be the bearer of such news to the world...The great singer was one of those for whom the word changeling was invented...She shared the changeling's spectacular destiny and was acquainted with malevolent forces.
Her whole life had taken place in the dark. The spotlight shone down on the black, hushed circle in a cafe; the moon slowly slid through the clouds. Night-working, smiling, in makeup, in long, silky dresses, singing over and over, again and again. The aim of it all is just to be drifting off to sleep when the first rays of the sun's brightness begin to threaten the theatrical eyelids.

19 August 2010

If it's cold, I've done it

photo from ?

I've got things I'd like to talk to you about today, but I'm late, as usual, so I'll puzzle it out on my 1.33 mile walk.

18 August 2010

My castle, my books.

photo by K

Just finished elegant, refined, autumnal Netherland, by Joseph O'Neill, a novel of entrances and exits, and automobile-induced perambulatory flights around a city mourned by any who leave: New York. Netherland is a literary beacon for both writer and reader, a slim book of perfect proportions, and, in the long shadow of The Great Gatsby, "O'Neill runs faster, stretches out his arms farther and approaches the glow of greatness."

17 August 2010

Custom, uncustomary

One week old, and Helen's already put me to work.

15 August 2010

Only daughters

Because I am a fool, my most beautiful and very special thing went dove down the pipes and out of sight on Friday. I mourned by the side of the ocean, with A. and G., who is in true mourning. We ate mango and almonds from Sahadi's, washed down with iced coffee. There were "nuggs" too, but I don't eat "nuggs", so I waited for tacos. We ate Rockaway Taco, I drank watermelon juice, I felt scrubbed clean and satiated with salt, delicious gossip, tacos, but oh, good god, I still miss my most beautiful and very special thing.

13 August 2010

Little Murderess


An unexpected, luxurious treat is coming to my way today. Oh, ye round beasts, lurking under couches, thriving behind dressers, savor your last moments.

12 August 2010

My castle, my books.

Another bildungsroman, this time, The White Book, by Jean Cocteau, sent to me by the dear Daniel-Halifax of Hibernian Homme. And so, a Cocteau revivals begins.

One afternoon, during a geography lesson, we heard that he was dead...In spite of everything, eroticism had received its death-blow. Too many little pleasures were disturbed by the ghost of the handsome animal whose charm had moved even death itself.

11 August 2010


This season is waning. What have I done? I'm stoking this fear fire, with greatest intention of being pushed close to the rocks, so I can dive under, and push off.

10 August 2010

My castle, my books.

Hauling through Bird by Bird, folding down pages, circling passages. My words here have been light; the general idea is that they will live somewhere else.

A tidbit of Bird by Bird, written by a mother completely mad for her child :
Having a baby is like suddenly getting the world's worst roommate, like having Janis Joplin with a bad hangover and PMS come to stay with you.

09 August 2010

Patricia Neal. January 20, 1926 – August 8, 2010.

Breakfast at Tiffany's

Ms. Neal, with her marble drenched in honey voice, has left having lived quite a life.

06 August 2010

1000 ships

Welcome to the world, Helen Wright Dunphy. We've been waiting for you. You were born last night under the sign of the lion: you will be warm, generous-hearted, whip-smart, and loyal. So really, you will be a reflection of your parents. May your life be full of grace and love. May you one day say, "I am beloved, and my beloved is mine." Hello, beautiful girl.

05 August 2010

Forgotten castles, long-lost televisions

We went to see Arcade Fire last night. Pfff. Unmoved.

Mango with chili, lime, and salt before the show, french fries after? I could dance a foxtrot.

04 August 2010

The courage of the French

Faye Dunaway via Tales of Endearment

The divine cruelty of feminine beauty: to whom does it belong? Possessor, lover, creator, passerby?

Haunted by the story of Lea T and her dreaded member. This is a terrible party, love, if we can't all be invited.

03 August 2010

My castle, my books.

Angela by Sasha Kinens

I tore through Winter's Bone on the beach this weekend. Confusing to mix salt air and sunscreen with the frozen Ozarks. Brother casually asked I was enjoying my "erotic tale." Gross, brother, gross.

02 August 2010

Furiously so

I'm off with R, again, spying, peeping, prowling.