Tuesday, March 24, 2009

For Natasha, 1995-2009

"I Can Say That I've Lived Here/In Honor & Danger/But I'm Just An Animal/And Cannot Explain a Life/Down This Chain of Days I Wish to Stay Among My People/Relation Now Means Nothing/Having Chosen/So Defined/And If Death Should Smell My Freedom/As It Passed Beneath My Window/Let Her Lead Me Trembling, Trembling/I Owe Every Bell That Tolls Me."--Neko Case, At Last

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Erin Go Bragh

Means "Ireland Forever," and when I hear these words, I hear my mother's mother, my Grandma Gerry's voice, see her smiling Irish blue eyes, and miss her.
I see green. Sea green. And I think of my Grandpa PJ. I hear his voice, too, barreling deeply through his sprawling, welcoming home. I feel his love wrapped around me, me his little girl now grown. I think of the words, "Himself," hear my Grandma Jeanne's voice speaking it aloud, and I miss them both, though Grandma Jeannie's still here. I miss them together. Miss that warmth of togetherness. The security of their love for each other, for their kids, and their kids' kids, and what they made together with their love. And I see green, see green again, see rolling hills of green green grass going on and on forever kind of like the fields of rye in that book we all know, that strange fantasy of just being, that sense of eternity in repetitive motion, endless space.

And all in green
all in green
my love
my love went riding.
All in green.
My love.
All in green.

This one goes out to the grands.
xoxo Ama

image: pishpot gala collette
we heart it

A Room of One's Own

Found this great article by novelist Amy Shearn on the Domino site, and wanted to keep it here for safekeeping. Here it is, for whomever wants it.

I'm in the midst of this. For the first time in my life. Creating instead of thinking about. A room of my own.

How About This?

I like it.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Isn't She

Caroline laughs

and it's raining all day

She loves to be

one of the girls
She lives in the place
In that side of our lives
Where nothing is
ever put straight
She turns herself round
and She smiles
and she says
This is it
that's the end
of the joke
Isn't she easy
Isn't she
Pretty in pink...

...Psychedelic Furs

{:::::Made By Girl Print. Just $15::::

It's Later Than You Think

Living in your

hollow world
I have seen your
wash away

your dreams.

{Brandi Carlile, Until I Die}

patrina tinslay

Friday, March 13, 2009

Put That Needlepoint Down! Now!

Today is Friday the 13th. The superstition that Friday is unlucky has been around for hundreds of years. Chaucer mentioned it in his Canterbury Tales, and by the 1800s, there was a whole list of things that were unlucky to do on a Friday, including needleworking, writing letters, beginning a sea voyage, moving, getting married, and going to the doctor. As for 13, its status as an unlucky number probably comes from the Bible — Judas Iscariot was said to be the 13th guest to sit at the table at the Last Supper. By the 1700s, it was a common superstition that if 13 people sat down at a table together, one of them would die. Eventually the number 13 became unlucky in any circumstance. Many hotels still skip the 13th floor, labeling it as 14. At some point, these two superstitions were combined into a fear of Friday the 13th. {Text From Writer's Almanac Beautiful Gato Image by Pequna Suricata on flickr}.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Never Stop Fighting

Sleep on the left side/Keep the sword hand free.--Cornershop, Sleep on The Left Side

Wanted to Cry/But You Can't When You're Laughing.--The National, So Far Around the Bend

Can't Give Up Acting Tough/It's All That I'm Made Of. Can't Scrape Together Quite Enough/ To Ride the Bus to the Outskirts of the Fact that I Need Love"--Neko Case, Middle Cyclone

To be nobody but yourself, in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle that any human being can fight--and never stop fighting. --e.e. cummings ... {image via fffound, i think}

Wednesday, March 11, 2009


Trains by David Shumate

I am seduced by trains. When one moans in the night like somedragon gone lame, I rise and put on my grandfather's suit. I pack asmall bag, step out onto the porch, and wait in the darkness. I restmy broad-brimmed hat on my knee. To a passerby I'm a curious sight—a solitary man sitting in the night. There's somethingunsettling about a traveler who doesn't know where he's headed.You can't predict his next move. In a week you may receive apostcard from Haiti. Madagascar. You might turn on youranswering machine and hear his voice amid the tumult of a Bangkok avenue. All afternoon you feel the weight of the thingsyou've never done. Don't think about it too much. Everythingstarts to sound like a train.

"Trains" by David Shumate from The Floating Bridge. © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2008. Reprinted with permission on Writer's Almanac.

Photo Takidani Train Station 5 from Mr Mark on Flickr.

Friday, March 06, 2009

The Way to Love

{The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost. -G.K. Chesterton}

Especially. Yourself.

Don't forget to love you, you, you. Because you won't always be here.

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one WILD and PRECIOUS life?
Maybe I should try to answer that question myself.

(Image 1 by Amy Stein, from her collection, Domesticated. Image 2 )

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

Pretty Porn from Design Sponge

I could look at this gorgeous home of floral designer Nicollete Camille all day long. Featured yesterday on Design*Sponge.

{Sun Down, Yellow Moon, I Replay the Past} A Bit of Prose

It's been a long week. I feel the black dog settling in around me a little bit. I rearrange furniture, put pictures in frames, eat ice cream, try to unbend the heavy tightness in my bones with movement. I tell the black dog to go home. He's a wanting thing. Sleek, with bottomless eyes, yearning. He misses my harbor of comfort, of long days and longer nights held tight in each other's animal warmth. I rarely let him inside anymore. And though this rents my heart, tugs me toward the earth in its grip of gentle teeth, I keep the door shut, let the sun go down, pull the covers close, and dream of running, of birds flying, of ocean waves, of light, of the sound water makes as it holds a body in a steaming bath, of horses, how gentle they look in the evening sun, hooves dug deep into the cool of the welcoming earth. {What to wear? 186/365 by shes jack on flickr via Design is Mine.}

Monday, March 02, 2009

Totally Gay for this Lady

If you've never heard her voice, listen here. NPR's got her full album available for an exclusive preview! Middle Cyclone comes out tomorrow. Buy it at your local record store.


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