I can't imagine a time when this song will get old. And it just feels so good to listen on repeat right now.
I remember a conversation I had with AS about Raymond Carver's short story "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." Her professor had her take that title and write an original poem. And now I think about it when people use: love.
I think I mean: dependance and commitment. But all the time I am delighted to find that it means other things too. Like acceptance and warmth and fuzzy cheeks. Or shiny. Or surprise. Tonight it meant: longer than expected.
January 3, 2010
December 21, 2009
A sixty-nine year old love letter
My grandma promised to send me one of the letters and today it came. The pages are thin, the folds pronounced, it is typed out with penned in corrections of his English.
“How can I ever doubt your esteemed character when I have spent five days and six evenings in your company…I like to recollect all my memories. But you I shall always see in my mind that way as I first met you when I was introduced to you by the Senator whose name I cannot remember. If you could only know how beautiful you looked that night when you appeared at the dance and you so tall in the dress which fell to the toes and made you look so lady like. So there you see I remember you. Perhaps you think I am saying this as an excuse for my lateness in answering your letter but do believe me I would have the same to say if I had answered immediately.”
This part is handwritten in a green pen: “I am writing a long letter because I wish to write to you always. You are truly to me very dear. Every moment of that thought gives me great pleasure. Your remembrance has been a great reward for that trip. Speaking in English I shall save everything for you… yes just for you.”
The letter is dated December 26, 1940 and Yugoslavia was on the brink of being taken over by the Axis powers. “Can you forgive my tardiness? Believe me I was away where it was impossible to write as I was on duty as you know todays situation in the world…We are preparing to celebrate our great day the birth of Christ a moment when we Yugoslavs realize peace and a future in the wings of our home. We are at peace now when from all sides blood is being spilled of young and good sons of different lands.”
I tried googling his name but got absolutely no responses, not a single thing even appeared. I can’t help but conjure in my mind the possibilities of who this man is – endless elaborate concoctions, piecing together the bits I know, weaving through them varying negative or positive contemplations. Whatever his intentions, for whatever reason the letters stopped coming, whoever he was, he was a man who closes tender letters by saying “Always I am to you.”
Do I post this and share? Or is it too sacred perhaps? Did she really love him or is this letter really nothing? She was about to destroy the letters, worried that people would gossip about the romance, but my grandma had protested and kept one of the letters all these years. Thelma was an avid traveler, going to every continent, and she did make it to Yugoslavia at one point, it was actually her last international trip, two weeks in Dubrovnik in 1982. Had he faded from her memory years before that, or did glimpses of him and that voyage still appear on lonely nights?
For Amy...
In honor of Amy's engagement I have a different kind of transpacific proposal...
Much has been written, composed, sand, performed, painted, etc about the ol' idea of "Love" - may I suggest now a time to share with Amy and the rest of us our favorites of all variety on the matter...
Much has been written, composed, sand, performed, painted, etc about the ol' idea of "Love" - may I suggest now a time to share with Amy and the rest of us our favorites of all variety on the matter...
December 18, 2009
for amy!
so when composer schumann asked dear clara for her hand in marriage back in 1837, she wrote in response...
‘you require but a simple yes? such a small word – but such an important one. but should not a heart so full of unutterable love as mine utter this little word with all its might? i do so and my innermost soul whispers always to you.’
oh how beautiful! it popped into my mind when i heard the blessed news of amy + warren = eternity. congrats dearest amy! i'm so so happy for you two! a grand huzzah for the small word "yes" and all that it embodies as the starting-point of a full life together :)
‘you require but a simple yes? such a small word – but such an important one. but should not a heart so full of unutterable love as mine utter this little word with all its might? i do so and my innermost soul whispers always to you.’
oh how beautiful! it popped into my mind when i heard the blessed news of amy + warren = eternity. congrats dearest amy! i'm so so happy for you two! a grand huzzah for the small word "yes" and all that it embodies as the starting-point of a full life together :)
December 15, 2009
a few lovelies for all you lovelies
last night was a beautifully calming show in williamsburg of keren ann and claire + the reasons.
(embedding is broken! but go to the links for loveliness! the video links on "ann" and "claire + the reasons" are wondrous)
and do you all know about habit? if not, please acquaint yourself now.
(embedding is broken! but go to the links for loveliness! the video links on "ann" and "claire + the reasons" are wondrous)
and do you all know about habit? if not, please acquaint yourself now.
December 12, 2009
Tragic European Secret
*sorry i haven't posted anything in a long time, but here is something that changed my world today
For as long as I can remember my Great Aunt Thelma has been a huge factor in my life, both during the few shorts years I knew her and after her death. The main descriptions people give of her are driven and compassionate. She never married and spent her whole life striving to serve others as well as reach her utmost potential. You have likely heard me speak of her before.
Today I interviewed my Grandma, Thelma's only surviving sibling. I asked many questions, including this one I have always been afraid to ask,"did she have any romance in her life?"
"Why, yes!" my grandma said and her face lit up, waiting to tell me the dramatic story.
In 1939, at the age of 35, she left for her first trip to Europe for an international meeting of women. Her voyage to Europe was on the luxury ship the 'Queen Mary', and it was filled with movies stars, senators, and other elites of the world. On the boat she met a man from Yugoslavia who had been in Washington DC for some uncertain, but high-profile meetings. Thelma and the man fell in love, and he said he would find her once this ever present war ended. She received two letters from him, professing his love and asking about the possibility of marriage. After the 2 letters, she never heard from him again. (My grandma said she has one of the letters and will give to me).
In 1944, Thelma went back to Europe abroad the 'Queen Mary' again, but this time it was a troop ship and she was to spend the rest of the war working for the American Red Cross in Liverpool. She then spent 2 more years helping rebuild the continent. During that time she was invited to Buckingham Palace and met the King, Queen, and future Queen, drove a jeep alone all night to see the Nuremburg trials, and did much tiring work in Paris, Munich, and elsewhere.
- The 'Queen Mary' 1939.
For as long as I can remember my Great Aunt Thelma has been a huge factor in my life, both during the few shorts years I knew her and after her death. The main descriptions people give of her are driven and compassionate. She never married and spent her whole life striving to serve others as well as reach her utmost potential. You have likely heard me speak of her before.
Today I interviewed my Grandma, Thelma's only surviving sibling. I asked many questions, including this one I have always been afraid to ask,"did she have any romance in her life?"
"Why, yes!" my grandma said and her face lit up, waiting to tell me the dramatic story.
In 1939, at the age of 35, she left for her first trip to Europe for an international meeting of women. Her voyage to Europe was on the luxury ship the 'Queen Mary', and it was filled with movies stars, senators, and other elites of the world. On the boat she met a man from Yugoslavia who had been in Washington DC for some uncertain, but high-profile meetings. Thelma and the man fell in love, and he said he would find her once this ever present war ended. She received two letters from him, professing his love and asking about the possibility of marriage. After the 2 letters, she never heard from him again. (My grandma said she has one of the letters and will give to me).
In 1944, Thelma went back to Europe abroad the 'Queen Mary' again, but this time it was a troop ship and she was to spend the rest of the war working for the American Red Cross in Liverpool. She then spent 2 more years helping rebuild the continent. During that time she was invited to Buckingham Palace and met the King, Queen, and future Queen, drove a jeep alone all night to see the Nuremburg trials, and did much tiring work in Paris, Munich, and elsewhere.
- The 'Queen Mary' 1939. December 1, 2009
November 20, 2009
Don't Think Twice, It's Alright
A friend of mine posted on our group blog about a blessed experience he had at the Joshua Radin concert last night in NYC. A happy crowd, an acoustic Dylan cover, and a talented (and handsome) performer? Yes, please!
November 17, 2009
day two
stuck in bed with a medley of bronchitis and swine flu (as diagnosed by your local insta-care) means that i finally have time to post the goods i've been saving up for you, my dear friends.
The Cinnamon Peeler
If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
And leave the yellow bark dust
On your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
You could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to you hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
--your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...
When we swam once
I touched you in the water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
you climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.
You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
Peeler's wife. Smell me.
Michael Ondaatje
The Cinnamon Peeler
If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
And leave the yellow bark dust
On your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
You could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to you hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler's wife.
I could hardly glance at you
before marriage
never touch you
--your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands
in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers...
When we swam once
I touched you in the water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
you climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter's wife, the lime burner's daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume
and knew
what good is it
to be the lime burner's daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.
You touched
your belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
Peeler's wife. Smell me.
Michael Ondaatje
November 16, 2009
a poem, of sorts
i'm currently lying in bed in a sequined hoody and leggings, swimming beneath a hundred heavy blankets and a floaty sea of kleenexes. i've succumbed to defeat by infantile infectious somethings (i.e. i have literally been coated by a multitude of six-year-old viruses and have been unable to stop coughing for the past four and a half weeks) and thought: oh where, oh where did my transpacifists go?
silly question. you've been here all along.
so i've been doing this little teaching thing for the past few months, and it sort of takes up the entirety of my life. and suddenly, at the age of twenty-three, i have 29 little guppies that i get to kiss and hug every day, and worry about whether they have enough food at home, and whether or not they put the larger number in their hearts as an addition strategy. i run around the classroom commanding "pencils down. hands folded. eyes on me," whilst sprinkling magic math dust on their heads with a tattered silver wand. i teach them how to say nice things to each other, and we practice giving each other compliments. when they do something wrong, they say sorry to one another, and not just sorry, but sorry for ___________, and this is what i can do next time to fix it.
and sometimes, james marshmallow (whose name may or may not actually be marshall), who has the largest smile on planet earth and the smoothest, softest cheeks (which he claims is possible for anyone if you get puffy like him!), when he isn't suspended for rolling down the hall and kicking the principal, or suffering from a high degree of anxiety disorders no six-year-old should ever have to deal with, also plays the apology game.
after kicking at the wall for a half hour and then throwing a screaming tantrum under the table one day:
i was under the table. i'm sorry for going under the table. i love you. i'm sorry, do you accept my apology, do you?
after which, while trying to hide the giant tears rolling down my face, i squeezed his puffiest of cheeks and replied, oh james. i love you so much back, and i accept.
silly question. you've been here all along.
so i've been doing this little teaching thing for the past few months, and it sort of takes up the entirety of my life. and suddenly, at the age of twenty-three, i have 29 little guppies that i get to kiss and hug every day, and worry about whether they have enough food at home, and whether or not they put the larger number in their hearts as an addition strategy. i run around the classroom commanding "pencils down. hands folded. eyes on me," whilst sprinkling magic math dust on their heads with a tattered silver wand. i teach them how to say nice things to each other, and we practice giving each other compliments. when they do something wrong, they say sorry to one another, and not just sorry, but sorry for ___________, and this is what i can do next time to fix it.
and sometimes, james marshmallow (whose name may or may not actually be marshall), who has the largest smile on planet earth and the smoothest, softest cheeks (which he claims is possible for anyone if you get puffy like him!), when he isn't suspended for rolling down the hall and kicking the principal, or suffering from a high degree of anxiety disorders no six-year-old should ever have to deal with, also plays the apology game.
after kicking at the wall for a half hour and then throwing a screaming tantrum under the table one day:
i was under the table. i'm sorry for going under the table. i love you. i'm sorry, do you accept my apology, do you?
after which, while trying to hide the giant tears rolling down my face, i squeezed his puffiest of cheeks and replied, oh james. i love you so much back, and i accept.
November 15, 2009
November 14, 2009
lovely
cayman islands is one of my favorite kings of convenience song and i just found this beautiful b-side that features feist. such a good song for days like these:
if you haven't heard declaration of dependence, their new album, check it out on grooveshark.com!
if you haven't heard declaration of dependence, their new album, check it out on grooveshark.com!
October 12, 2009
Ode to Autumn
I had a dinner party on Saturday dedicated to this poem. A really good decision.
By Keats
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;
To bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cell.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reaped furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,--
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir, the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
October 6, 2009
i can't embed this video, but do watch it! it is truly stunning.
http://scher.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/10/05/the-shadows-dream/
October 2, 2009
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