Rainy Day Walk

"When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro." -Hunter S. Thompson

Playlist 6/22/2011

1. Good Arms vs. Bad Arms - Frightened Rabbit
2. Banjolin Song/Awake My Soul - Mumford & Sons with Johnny Flynn
3. Rye Whiskey - Punch Brothers
4. Stir the Water - Braddigan
5. Blinded By the Light - Bruce Springsteen
6. Still Not a Player - Big Pun
7. Somehow - Joss Stone
8. Every Teardrop is a Waterfall - Coldplay
9. You are a Tourist - Death Cab for Cutie
10. You Don't See It - The Duhks
11. Night Moves - Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band

  

Summer Evening Things

Homemade Popsicles from A Cup of Jo

CILANTRO GIMLET

Absolut Vodka, Cilantro-infused Simple Syrup & Chili-Sugar Rim

RED RIDING HOOD

Anne Sexton

Many are the deceivers:

The suburban matron,

proper in the supermarket,

list in hand so she won't suddenly fly,

buying her Duz and Chuck Wagon dog food,

meanwhile ascending from earth,

letting her stomach fill up with helium,

letting her arms go loose as kite tails,

getting ready to meet her lover

a mile down Apple Crest Road

in the Congregational Church parking lot.

Two seemingly respectable women

come up to an old Jenny

and show her an envelope

full of money

and promise to share the booty

if she'll give them ten thou

as an act of faith.

Her life savings are under the mattress

covered with rust stains

and counting.

They are as wrinkled as prunes

but negotiable.

The two women take the money and disappear.

Where is the moral?

Not all knives are for

stabbing the exposed belly.

Rock climbs on rock

and it only makes a seashore.

Old Jenny has lost her belief in mattresses

and now she has no wastebasket in which

to keep her youth.

The standup comic

on the 'Tonight' show

who imitates the Vice President

and cracks up Johnny Carson

and delays sleep for millions

of bedfellows watching between their feet,

slits his wrist the next morning

in the Algonquin's old-fashioned bathroom,

the razor in his hand like a toothbrush,

wall as anonymous as a urinal,

the shower curtain his slack rubberman audience,

and then the slash

as simple as opening as a letter

and the warm blood breaking out like a rose

upon the bathtub with its claw and ball feet.

And I. I too. 

Quite collected at cocktail parties,

meanwhile in my head

I'm undergoing open-heart surgery.

The heart, poor fellow,

pounding on his little tin drum

with a faint death beat,

The heart, that eyeless beetle,

running panicked through his maze,

never stopping one foot after the other

one hour after the other

until he gags on an apple

and it's all over.

And I. I too again.

I built a summer house on Cape Ann.

A simple A-frame and this too was

a deception - nothing haunts a new house.

When I moved in with a bathing suit and tea bags

the ocean rumbled like a train backing up

and at each window secrets came in

like gas. My mother, that departed soul,

sat in my Eames chair and reproached me

for losing her keys to the old cottage.

Even in the electric kitchen there was

the smell of a journey. The ocean

was seeping through its frontiers

and laying me out on its wet rails.

The bed was stale with my childhood

and I could not move to another city

where the worthy make a new life.

Long ago

there was a strange deception:

a wolf dressed in frills,

a kind of transvestite.

But I get ahead of my story.

In the beginning

there was just little Red Riding Hood,

so called because her grandmother

made her a red cape and she was never without it.

It was her Linus blanket, besides

it was red, as red as the Swiss flag,

yes it was red, as red as chicken blood,

But more than she loved her riding hood

she loved her grandmother who lived

far from the city in the big wood.

This one day her mother gave her

a basket of wine and cake

to take to her grandmother

because she was ill.

Wine and cake?

Where's the aspirin? The penicillin?

Where's the fruit juice?

Peter Rabbit got chamomile tea.

But wine and cake it was.

On her way in the big wood

Red Riding Hood met the wolf.

Good day, Mr. Wolf, she said,

thinking him no more dangerous

than a streetcar or a panhandler.

He asked where she was going

and she obligingly told him

There among the roots and trunks

with the mushrooms pulsing inside the moss

he planned how to eat them both,

the grandmother an old carrot

and the child a shy budkin

in a red red hood.

He bade her to look at the bloodroot,

the small bunchberry and the dogtooth

and pick some for her grandmother.

And this she did.

Meanwhile he scampered off

to Grandmother's house and ate her up

as quick as a slap.

Then he put on her nightdress and cap

and snuggled down in to bed.

A deceptive fellow.

Red Riding hood

knocked on the door and entered

with her flowers, her cake, her wine.

Grandmother looked strange,

a dark and hairy disease it seemed.

Oh Grandmother, what big ears you have,

ears, eyes, hands and then the teeth.

The better to eat you with my dear.

So the wolf gobbled Red Riding Hood down

like a gumdrop. Now he was fat.

He appeared to be in his ninth month

and Red Riding Hood and her grandmother

rode like two Jonahs up and down with

his every breath. One pigeon. One partridge.

He was fast asleep,

dreaming in his cap and gown,

wolfless.

Along came a huntsman who heard

the loud contented snores

and knew that was no grandmother.

He opened the door and said,

So it's you, old sinner.

He raised his gun to shoot him

when it occurred to him that maybe

the wolf had eaten up the old lady.

So he took a knife and began cutting open

the sleeping wolf, a kind of caesarian section.

It was a carnal knife that let

Red Riding Hood out like a poppy,

quite alive from the kingdom of the belly.

And grandmother too

still waiting for cakes and wine.

The wolf, they decided, was too mean

to be simply shot so they filled his belly

with large stones and sewed him up.

He was as heavy as a cemetery

and when he woke up and tried to run off

he fell over dead. Killed by his own weight.

Many a deception ends on such a note.

The huntsman and the grandmother and Red Riding Hood

sat down by his corpse and had a meal of wine and cake.

Those two remembering

nothing naked and brutal

from that little death,

that little birth,

from their going down

and their lifting up.

  

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

Listen to the wind blow

Watch the sun rise

Run in the shadows

Damn your love

Damn your lies

And if

You don't love me now

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain.

Listen to the wind blow

Down comes the night

Run in the shadows

Damn your love

Damn your lies

Break the silence

Damn the dark

Damn the light

And if

You don't love me now

You will never love me again

I can still hear you saying

You would never break the chain.

The Original Album Version: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcawnRIyeok

...or my new favorite version by Loch Lomond... enjoy :)

   

Landscape Complete!

Before:

After:

Close-ups:

                 

Landscape Design

In addition to getting over jet-lag, I have been designing new landscaping for the front of parents' house in New Jersey.  Below is my basic outline/drawing.  It does not include annuals or bulbs, only "hard" landscape and perennials.

The quality isn't great as I had to take the picture in segments with my camera phone; my Canon has officially kicked the bucket (but it made sure it destroyed all my Amsterdam, Italy, and Ireland photos before it did.. so sad).

Before and after picture of the front yard to come!

Five Things I Love

Boston University Girls - 1950

~~~

~~~

The Lake Isle of Innisfree

W. B. Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,

And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:

Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;

And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,

Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;

There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,

And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day

I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;

While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,

I hear it in the deep heart's core.

~~~

Women's Daily Riding Pant - http://shop.outlier.cc/shop/retail/women-s-daily-riding-pant.html

~~~

Guy Sargent's "What lies beneath the surface" collection

CrossFit: Day 1

Three rounds for time of:
Run 100 meters
50 Push-ups
Run 100 meters
50 Sit-ups
Run 100 meters
50 Squats
Run 100 meters
50 Back extensions

Time: 30:48

Took a spin class beforehand, which was NOT a good idea as my legs were screaming at me during squats.  I contemplated doing the run outside but there isn't a 100m track anywhere nearby so I had to do it on a treadmill.  The treadmill kept resetting itself back to 0 which means it took about 50m to get anywhere close to pace.  To compensate, I did 150m.  The push-ups were, full and unmodified... ouch! And so were the sit-ups.  I also did "Supermans" instead of back extensions; I really wanted to target my lower back in preparation for my rugby match on Saturday. I'm actually quite pleased with how this felt and how fast I did it.  I haven't done CrossFit since December and expected to fail, puke, and die, in that order.  But since it turned out SO well, I am very much looking forward to tomorrow's workout :)

From http://crossfit.com/ // Workout of the Day: Monday 110418


  

Favorite Blogs

30 Bucks a Week
http://thirtyaweek.wordpress.com/
A foodie blog about a Brooklyn couple who attempt to only spend $30 each week on groceries.  They post easy-to-follow recipes made from simple and in-season ingredients and all their food shopping receipts.

A Cup of Jo
http://joannagoddard.blogspot.com/
I especially love her Friday posts and gift guides.

Design*Sponge
http://www.designspongeonline.com/
DIY, city guides, recipes, guide gifts, and lots of awesome interior designing.  When I finally own my own place, this will be my number one decorating reference.

For Your Consideration...
http://academychallenge.blogspot.com/
My sister's blog <3 all about movies and Hollywood news.

I want to be her!
http://www.iwanttobeher.com/
Features either a drawing or photo of a different woman every day.  Heavily fashion-oriented.

Inspired Scribble
http://inspiredscribble.wordpress.com/
A childhood friend's creative writing blog.  I am totally inspired by her :)

New Dress A Day
http://www.newdressaday.com/
The remaking of old, unattractive thrift store finds into funky, new clothes... makes me wanna learn how to sew!

P.S. I made this...
http://psimadethis.com/
How to turn seemingly useless things lying around your house into something, well, useful.

The Tofu Guru
http://tofuguru.net/
Vegan cooking show and recipe blog.

Tomboy Style
http://tomboystyle.blogspot.com/
Finally a fashion blog not dedicated to high heels.

Working Class Foodies
http://www.hungrynation.tv/wcfoodies
How to make delicious, seasonal, low-budget food.  Offers vegetarian/vegan variations for most recipes.

Playlist 4/15/2011

1. Birthday - Kings of Leon
2. This is the Day - The The
3. Someone Else - Henry Wolf
4. Ballerina - Leona Naess
5. Grown Ocean - Fleet Foxes
6. Ooh La La - The Faces
7. Keep Yourself Warm - Frightened Rabbit
8. The Chain - Fleetwood Mac
9. Locket and Key - Donna the Buffalo
10. Wait So Long - Trampled by Turtles
11. Moving, Shaking - Great Lake Swimmers
12. America - Simon and Garfunkel
13. Romantic Comedy - Stars
14. Come Pick Me Up - Ryan Adams
15. Change of Time - Josh Ritter
16. Moonlight Mile - The Rolling Stones

Will You Let Her Marry Me?

This is a chose "your-own-adventure" poem.
This one is for you, Dad.
This is the fork in the road.
This will make or break us.
Forever.

Choice 1:

I stand in white.
She stands in black.
We face each other.
Everyone looks at me,
As I look at her.

And suddenly, you snap me out of my gaze.
I look at you,
In your tux,
A huge grin upon your face.
"Ready?" you say,
A tear rolls down my face.

We walk arm-in-arm,
The same pace,
A tight grasp,
Father and daughter,
The best of friends.

You hand me off,
Reluctant, but happy.
"I now pronounce you woman, and wife."
I kiss my bride.

Choice 2:

I DID NOT RAISE YOU LIKE THIS.
YOU DISAPPOINT ME.
I DON'T CARE IF YOU LOVE HER.
IT'S UNNATURAL.
I DO NOT ACCEPT YOU THE WAY YOU ARE.

So which will it be?
Will you choose the path that leads to the end?
Will all we've work for:
The time you took,
The time I gave,
The basketball games,
The batting cages,
Outings, just us two,
Me and you...
Will they all be for naught?
Or will you remember that I am still your flesh,
Still your blood.
You raised me to be,
Whoever I wanted to be,
So is it okay to be happy?
To be free?
Dad, will you let her marry me?

A Dozen of Dublin and Galway

All photos were taken by me with my grandfather's Canon T70.

R.I.P. Grandpa Joe

  

Her Kind - Anne Sexton

I have gone out, a possessed witch,   

haunting the black air, braver at night;   

dreaming evil, I have done my hitch   

over the plain houses, light by light:   

lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind.   

A woman like that is not a woman, quite.   

I have been her kind.

I have found the warm caves in the woods,   

filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,   

closets, silks, innumerable goods;

fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:   

whining, rearranging the disaligned.

A woman like that is misunderstood.

I have been her kind.

I have ridden in your cart, driver,

waved my nude arms at villages going by,   

learning the last bright routes, survivor   

where your flames still bite my thigh

and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.   

A woman like that is not ashamed to die.   

I have been her kind.