30 September 2010
29 September 2010
Black, white, lace, leopard. There's really nothing I'd like more (sartorially, speaking) than to populate my wardrobe with Dolce & Gabanna's Spring 2011 collection. Until then, I'll scrub deep, dress sheer, and walk by Fortunato's every morning for that real Italian feeling.
28 September 2010
Mosaicology asked (thank you!), I answered. I'm normally shabby at these things- this time, fleet feet! Though, I haven't quite played by all the rules, so shabby still, I suppose.
1. I am an only daughter's only daughter.
2. I am black-haired, turning white.
3. I am intent on anonymously distributing a pamphlet.
4. I am outing my anonymous intentions.
5. I am a weasel, and an owl.
6. I am green-eyed, though not the jealous sort.
7. I am in love.
27 September 2010
We're back from Wine Country, with a sheaf of lavender, fresh from the fields, a battered silver swan, and a noble Roman nose. We were spoiled by parents, and vineyards alike. We stayed in a town from my childhood, and eased back into life with a nightcap and 30 Rock.
23 September 2010
22 September 2010
On Sunday we celebrated! We toasted to Cherokee's parents and to...together! I sat in the park, with my oldest friend. There was hope and musical accompaniment. I arrived home to pizzas and a house full of love. We raised glasses of Dom Pérignon with some of our very dearests. I have snakes with diamond eyes on my left hand.
On Monday, Björk sang Gloomy Sunday for her friend, Alexander McQueen.
21 September 2010
19 September 2010
This is a love letter, a love letter to my parents, my ghosts, my swans, my muses, what I have loved, what I have lost. This is a love letter to animals, spirit and flesh, wild hearts, graceful souls, hopefuls, brothers and sisters, dearest ones, wonders I have known, wonders I will know. This is a love letter to the man I will marry.
15 September 2010
14 September 2010
Last night with R:
me: Its going to be so much fun when you can share all these things with S. (ed: R's daughter, age 4). Did you read The Egypt Game? Kind of a companion piece to The Mixed up Files. 1960s New York, good god. Breakfast at Tiffany's, Lyle Lyle Crocodile, tail end of Salinger, The World of Henry Orient, Auntie Mame, Peggy Guggenheim, and now Mad Men.
R: That is quiet a gamut of age ranges! We read lyle lyle a lot now. I never read The Egypt Game! Exciting. Auntie Mame is a Very Weird Read.
me: i get easily carried away
13 September 2010
As summer wanes (waned, but I won't admit it, no) I've picked up a long-time library resident for a first time read; The Invention of Morel, inspiration for my beloved Last Year at Marienbad, inspiration for your beloved drama. Turns out, we might all be lost to temporality.
09 September 2010
08 September 2010
The Britannica Library of Great American Writing, Vol. I and II (set) vintage re-covered books by Neapolitan
Discovered a new way into what you have to say, and in between the extractions of memorandum from anonymous ghosts, I've had the chance to revisit forgotten feedback. In short: thank you for your comments. It's heartening to know who stands on my left and my right, especially JWC, D-H, L.A., ESB, G.B., MPF, and of course, all of you.
07 September 2010
I'm holding tight to this season. We went to Rockaway on Sunday with one half of Ghost Gamblers (and, oh! how the other half + one to come was missed.) I only wiggled myself into jeans this morning (thank you enchiladas) with the promise of brother's favorite beach, Fort Tilden, Sunday next.
03 September 2010
Christina Onassis, 5 years old, Paris, 1957 by Alejo Vidal-Quadras
Who is your own worst enemy? I am mine, I am mine. It's last night, it's too late, it's still 80°F (feels like 81°F), and I'm doing the old knock it down, kick it in the teeth, followed by the required resurrection, the phoenix that grows from the quick, easily forgotten moment of self-possession. Will it work? Goddamn, one of these days, its just got to. These wild, white hairs aren't dyeing themselves.
02 September 2010
Took home small, thin-skinned, purple eggplants from R's fire-escape and palmed them in wonder the whole walk home. I've had figs from Carroll Gardens, tomatoes from Vermont and I cry, "Miracle!" as I do battle with my succulents.