Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Today is New Year's Eve, the last day of the year.

In Mexico, people eat one grape with each of the 12 clock chimes at midnight, and make a wish for the coming year.

In Venezuela, they wear yellow underwear for a year of good luck.

In Japan, people eat soba because long thin noodles symbolize longevity, and at midnight, temple bells ring 108 times, matching the 108 attachments in the mind that need to be purified before the New Year.

At midnight in Greece, families cut a cake called a vasilopita, which has a coin baked inside; whoever gets the coin will have a lucky year.

In this country, the most famous celebration is in New York City's Times Square, where up to one million people gather each New Year's Eve to watch a ball drop. (From Writer's Image from Flickr)

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Sometimes, This is How I Feel

This is what happened to the kitteh who couldn't quite "Hang In There."
{Image From Cute Overload.}

Who Do They Think I Am?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: incredibly gorgeous images from here:Proposals by Cecilia Woloch

Mistaking me for someone else,
he asked me to marry him. This has
happened more than once. The first time,
I was eighteen and the boy had
a diamond ring in a box.
It was the Fourth of July,
it was dark, he said, Happy
Independence Day. Of course,
the ring was too large and
slipped right off my finger
into the grass.
(It belonged to someone else:
the woman he married, eventually.)

And when I was twenty-one, that redhead,
sloe-eyed and slinking out of his grief,
said he'd imagined I'd be his wife. But he was
mistaken. It wasn't me.
Then a drunk who drove too fast,
who threw the proposal over his shoulder
like some glittering, tattered scarf.
I staggered out of his car, saying,
No thanks, No thanks, No thanks.

And the man over eggs one morning,
in the midst of an argument, saying
he planned to wait for spring to
ask for my hand, then he never asked.

(So of course, I married
that one for a while; spent years convincing him
I was not his cup of coffee, not his girl.)

And in Prague, on a bridge called the
Karluv Most, a stranger, a refugee,
who mistook the way I stared at the
river for thinking of suicide.
Who mistook my American passport
for his ticket out of there.

And others-the man whose children
grabbed the food off my plate, called me
her; the man in Chartres Cathedral
humming the wedding march into my
ear. And tonight, at dinner with friends,
happy, discussing their wedding
plans, a man I've known for a couple of hours
turning to ask me to marry him.

I don't know who they think I am.
Do I look like a bride in these rags
of wind?
Do I look like the angel of home and hearth
with this strange green
fire in my hands?

{from dec. 30, 2008}

Monday, December 29, 2008

Literary Jewelry and Yes!

From Lioness Den Jewelry's Etsy shoppe. Famous last works from fine works of literature. My heart beats so that I can hardly speak.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Merry Merry

Peace + Love + Sunshine + Power + Joy + Laughter
for today and all your life through
from Ama and Natasha

Wednesday, December 24, 2008

For the Holiday, I Pledge to You My *Sweet* Time

Add Image[To] take something from yourself, to give to another, that is humane and gentle and never takes away as much comfort as it brings again.--Thomas More

We take different kinds of pleasure in giving. Perhaps the purest is the gift to a child so young it doesn't really know who the gift came from; the pure joy that the teddy bear or pull-toy produces is our regard, unmixed by any expectation of return. When children get older, we want something back from them: gratitude, respect. The gift is less pure. When lovers exchange gifts, their pleasure is often tinged with anxiety: Did I give more that I got? Did I get more than I gave? Or with power: He'll always remember where he got that shirt; she owes me something for the fur jacket.

To friends and relations our gifts reflect many things: our appreciation of their lives, our shared memories, our prosperity. We tend to give in a spirit of self-expression. Perhaps the closest we can come to a pure gift is an anonymous one; a gift of volunteer work, of blood, or a contribution to a charity. Such a gift which can never be acknowledged or returned by those it comforts can heal our spirits when they are wearied by too much ego.

The gift of myself can be a gift to myself.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

Baby Love

I've been surrounded by babies lately, babies comin', babies growin', and little people who were babies in the not-too-distant past. Just wanted to post two pics I took of the beautiful baby girl Marin, who will be a year old on the 23rd. The other picture is by my friend Dana, of me and her little boy Luca, who sweetly fell asleep on my boob last Saturday night (my, how times have changed). And, Dana herself is about to bring another little one into the world any minute now. She has about 2 hours for him to be a Sagittarius. Will she make it?

Friday, December 19, 2008

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Kitchen LOOOOVE Redux

Desire, desire, desire. Part 1.

According the the Buddhists, desire brings suffering. Ah, well. Cause I be wantin' some shit, and it's making me happy to look at stuffs, especially stuffs at Well, not especially. However. Since they're already so busy they're bringing their front office in to ship the stuff, thanks to an NPR piece this morning, I thought I'd make them even more popular with the ultimate "go ahead" in the retail world, an "I WANT THAT SHIT" from Ama's blog. And also, too. This stuff is likely available less expensively from indie shops. But whatever. Yeah.


Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.

--Emily Dickinson

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

New Neko March 2009!

Person of the Year

Person of the Year (From Time Magazine):

"In one of the craziest elections in American history, he overcame a lack of experience, a funny name, two candidates who are political institutions and the racial divide to become the 44th President of the United States.

Jack's College Photos of Obama
Initially, before she dug the film out from her basement, Jack never thought her pictures would have much life beyond her own darkroom.

Of her first meeting (in a campus eatery) with Obama, Jack remembers only that "He was really cute. But what else does a 20-year-old girl remember?

In the photos, Jack says, 'You can see he is just posing, initially, but as the shoot goes on, he starts to come out. He was very charismatic even then.' "

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Win, win, win!

There are a few ways you people are getting presents out of me this year. One is if I win these awesome gift packages on Modish! In which case, your gift will be my giddy delight! Hee, hee, hee. Oh, you can also enter to win, too! But you best do it before 11:59 p.m. today.

Art Films in OKC

Besides Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, the other experience that blew my mind this weekend was watching Jean Luc Godard's Band of Outsiders. And even though I told him to hush, I loved hearing about my dad's first experience with this film, watching it at the movie house where he worked as a teenager in Oklahoma City. He saw all of Godard's films there. All of Bergman's. The world opened up for him then.

"No one had seen anything like this," he said. Describing the playing the penny opera machine, and how this movie changed everything for him, how nothing was ever the same again, my heart fluttered at those words, how I inherited a heart like my dad's, one so moved by the visible and invisible, scenes of Paris, barren trees, movement, big longing eyes, a flow of sequential steps, words spoken and unspoken, and the thrill of how a hat tipped one way, a car flying the other way, and an extreme HERE. NOW. presence can come across in a reel of images moving together to make something incredibly magical and extremely close. Check out the Madison scene.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Nothing Day

{ Texas Fight Flickr Image}
{Dr. Hemmert flickr image}
{Catskills Grrl flickr image}
{Ex Magician Flickr}
{Librarians After Dark}

Ever have one of those days that could almost disappear off the map of your life? Not really awake, not really asleep, just reading reading reading and sleeping sleeping sleeping all Sunday long. No sunlight. No open doors. No fresh air. No answering the phone. I've given up almost all of my vices. So. I'm paying for the gorging on nothing today with an out-of-sorts sense of separateness and dislocation today at work. Oh well.


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