Fifty: Coloring Book?

Forty Nine: Like Silly Little Boys would say...

Children can love too.

"I love you also means I love you more than anyone loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that no one loves you, or has loved you, or will love you, and also, I love you in a way that I love no one else, and never have loved anyone else, and never will love anyone else."

Ok. 


So every once in a while a book comes along that just blows my fucking mind. And every once in a while, there is a sentence or paragraph or page that makes me just have to set the book down and sit slack-jawed in disbelief that someone could put these words together so perfectly. I feel like I did that a lot with this book.




"Life was a slow realization that the world was not for her, and that for whatever reason, she would never be happy and honest at the same time. She felt as if she were brimming, always producing and hoarding more love inside her. But there was no release. Table, ivory elephant charm, rainbow, onion, hairdo, mollusk, Shabbos, violence, cuticle, melodrama, ditch, honey, doily…None of it moved her. She addressed her world honestly, searching for something deserving of the volumes of love she knew she had within her, but to each she would have to say, I don't love you. Bark-brown fence post: I don't love you. Poem too long: I don't love you. Lunch in a bowl: I don't love you. Physics, the idea of you, the laws of you: I don't love you. Nothing felt like anything more than what it actually was. Everything was just a thing, mired completely in its thingness.
So she had to satisfy herself with the idea of love--loving the loving of things whose existence she didn't care at all about. Love itself became the object of her love. She loved herself in love, she loved loving love, as love loves loving, and was able, in that way, to reconcile herself with a world that fell so short of what she would have hoped for. It was not the world that was the great and saving lie, but her willingness to make it beautiful and fair, to live a once-removed life, in a world once-removed from the one in which everyone else seemed to exist." 
-Jonathan Safran Foer

Fun things to do when you are bored:

1. Make silly videos for your awesome friends.



More to come.

I think I'm a little bit..

in love with this song today.

Forty Eight: You do lose

what you don't hold.

happy

friday.

I be pro-Ibuprofen

and cartoons.



HA HAAAAA!

Man

Iron and Wine | Tree by the river | A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

Good Morning

"I know already that I will return to this day whenever I want to. I can bid it alive. Preserve it. There is still a point where the present, the now, winds around itself, and nothing is tangled. The river is not where it begins or ends, but right in the middle point, anchored by what has happened and what is to arrive. You can close your eyes and there will be a light snow falling in New York, and seconds later you are sunning upon a rock in Zacapa, and seconds later you are surfing through the Bronx on the strength of your own desire. There is no way to find a word to fit around this feeling. Words resist it. Words give it a pattern it does not own. Words put it in time. They freeze what cannot be stopped. Try to describe the taste of a peach. Try to describe it."

Seems like a good day for reading.

Tight Ropes

"Circles of circles. When you go around in circles, brother, the world is very big, but if you plow straight ahead it's small enough. I wanted to fall along the spokes to the center of the circle, where there was no movement. I can't explain it, man. It was like staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sky. All this banging was still going on outside the door. Then hours of silence."

Reading day.

My poor, poor future family..

So I've been thinking a lot about Pioneer Day lately. 

Yep.
It stemmed from a book I visually inhaled yesterday, Half Broke Horses by Jeannette Walls, I highly recommend it if you, like me, are in love with American lit and secretly wish you grew up on a ranch in some hidden valley in the hills before America was so gay. I mean, come on. John Steinbeck and I could have had some great times together. Unfortunately for me, I was born in Visalia in the 90s, and never learned the necessary survival skills to live that lifestyle...but damned if I won't learn to ride a horse before I die! (If anyone wants in on that, let me know. I'm not above taking lessons with like 4 year old little girls who are better than me.) Moral of the story is, this book made me feel like such a little overprivileged turd. And made me feel like American culture was actually fantastic before it turned to a big steaming pile of shit.

So obviously, the conclusion I came to was that if ever one day in the far distant future I have a child and family, and don't yet live in a tiny secluded valley with a one room schoolhouse and post office/jailhouse, we are going to have Pioneer Days where I deprive them of all things newfangled and fancy-schmancy and make them churn butter and wear bonnets and the like. Ok maybe not that extreme. But probably something equally infuriating to us modern folk. It will definitely involve kerosene lamps and peeing in the backyard.
[In elementary school, our teacher made all the girls wear curlers in our hair for Pioneer Day and we weren't allowed to use any form of electricity or technology for the entire day. I think I cried because of how retarded I looked with those curlers in. I know I cried. And I'd like to think that pioneer women were too busy walking across a continent with covered wagon in tow to worry about curling their hair, so that will officially NOT be involved in my day.]

Anyway, I felt I needed to share this. Don't marry me if you ain't down to churn some butta.
There's me and my future child.
Loadin' up the ol' wheelbarrow.

I'm probably a little crazy.

Goodnight.

Forty Seven: No comment

I guess since I don't really know where to start, I'm just going to dedicate this page to weirdness. Lots of weird times and weird things that went on in my life...for instance, Charlie burying Lauren in a huge pile of balloons and her erupting from them dramatically in a Lauren-esque fashion. I miss the poolhouse days! I do not miss a certain person's remote control Naziism. Just kidding, I do.
Or Charlie, Eric and I running/interpretive dancing/posing in the road wearing big sheets carrying broomsticks and assorted household items.
Or talking shit via hangman about some obese lady who looked like Ursula from the Little Mermaid on our Greyhound bus carrying an umbrella on a dry, hot, sweltering summer day in Southern CA. (It was definitely not a parasol.)
Or talking calculators.
Or pencils with faces!
Or blood cells with heads, arms, and legs!
Blood sells.
Blah blah blah even this post is weird.

Forty Six: Oh yeah, I have a blog

Forgot about that.