Tag: whimsy

“There has to be a place for risk and restlessness in any kind of fully lived life.”

Love cannot be reduced to a catalogue of reasons why, and a catalogue of reasons cannot be put together into love.

— Eleanor Catton

sunset new york city

It was a spectacular weekend. Sunlight, the perfect kind of weather, long walks in the park, so much deliciousness, and finally, the serene sleep that has evaded me for weeks.

***

We were discussing manicures for some reason, and why I don’t get them done. I asked her why she thinks my nails break easily. She reached over and hovered her hand close to my heart. “It indicates what’s going on inside of you,” she said. “The breaking, the cracking. There’s something you haven’t taken care of, you know, internally.”

Similarly — the startling experience of the splitting and sudden chill of the first nights of autumn. A moonlight that was so clear and tangible I could have plucked it from the sky. Feasting on fiery sunsets (usually reserved for Texas skies) during my runs.

I slept for 8 hours every night, my too-stubborn heart finally losing the battle with exhaustion. I spent a lot of time with Maggie Nelson and other types of blue (much more about this later).

I try to stay true to my love for autumn. People tell me how wonderful it is, how happy they are that autumn has arrived. The truth is, I adore everything about autumn. The warm days and chilly nights, the upstate apple-picking, the urgency of wearing all your skirts before you put them away, the beginning of scarf weather, the mooncakes, the vegetables that come in season, the appropriate kinds of mornings that make you crave tea & evenings that make you crave live jazz while in someone’s embrace.

But often all I can think of is how winter inevitably follows it. My attitude towards this probably says quite a bit about the things I need to work on.

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mezcal reunion & a dose of whimsy

Hello, fall!

Today, a humid daytime filled with a sudden but explicable melancholy, then a lecture from a friend about why I should show my melancholy side more often to people who don’t know me as well.

Then, ceviche with avocado.

Then, first day reunited. We have an on-again-off-again relationship.

I mean, with the mezcal margaritas he made, that is.



I skipped the pictures of us using a big stick to mash chickpeas in a big pot between our legs while sitting barelegged on the ground because the angle made it look… unsuitable for publishing, but it was rather appropriate for my first day back for other things.

I mean, for making hummus, that is. And eating way too much of it.

***

A dose of whimsy, to save you from painful midnight double entendres!

    • Obsessively detailed map of American literature’s most epic road trips(!!)
    • Favorite snacks of favorite writers, illustrated
    • Interactive timeline of why time seems to pass faster as we age
    • “For sometimes you can’t help but crave some ruin in what you love.” ― Chang-Rae Lee
    • Mikio Hasui talks about his photography in an interview with FvF.

      Words, they’re difficult. I’m not a good writer. When I write, I feel like my thoughts get whittled down, smaller and smaller. With a photograph that I think is beautiful, eight out of ten people will also think it’s beautiful. The other two people may think it’s sad, and that’s okay by me. With words, beautiful is beautiful. You don’t read the word ‘beautiful’ as ‘sad’. The reaction people have to my photos can be unexpected, and I like that.

      And:

      When I went to shoot these images, it just happened to be foggy. I was thinking, I can’t shoot today. I couldn’t see anything, so I waited a bit for the fog to clear. When the fog lifted for one moment, I saw the mountain, covered with trees in bright autumnal colors. But I was thinking that if the fog wasn’t there, and it was just a mountain covered in autumnal leaves, the experience and shot would’ve been pretty boring. It was beautiful because it was hidden, and because it was only revealed for that one moment, just that one part of the mountain.

      I felt like it was a metaphor for my life. I’m living in a fog. Even though I’m facing forward, I’m not sure which direction that is. I don’t belong to or work at a company, and I live life day by day. Sometimes I’m like, is this all right? Is this okay? But that’s the kind of thing everyone thinks about. I wonder what’s ahead. Work, marriage, kids – everyone has those questions. But when you’re inside the fog, when everything is foggy, you can’t see (what’s ahead of you). When that fog lifts and you can see even a bit of something, you’ve got to believe in what you just saw, right? When the fog lifts, there’s that mountain covered in trees with beautiful leaves and colors – you can’t see it right now, but it’s there. You’ve got to believe in that.

  • Finally, I leave you with the best birthday party invitation footer (complete with three Fresh Prince dancing GIFs) from an invitation I received today:she don't like to dance tho

Yep. My friends are the best. Happy September!

“Why do you always feel so inevitable to me?”

The image above: can you tell if it was taken while leaving or returning?

Stepped back into my (rather, this) world.
Started to caramelize some onions for dinner.
Tried to make a new website.
Sifted through the lovely handwritten things I received in the mail.

Handwritten on the back of a postcard addressed to me in red ink:

“In modes of speech other than poetry, meaning must be considered public, ideally transmissible; that which is not transmissible is not part of the meaning.

In the case of poetry it is the exact opposite — which is not to say that poems do not contain a transmissible meaning; if there is one, it’s there as a surplus.”

Jacques Roubaud (to surplus!)

(Fascinating note about Roubaud — he was both a professor of poetry AND mathematics. Well, I’ll be damned.)

Chatting with a friend while trying to catch up with and ponder it all:

“…it’s just the hunger that comes out of uncertainty.”

“That is some Neruda-sounding shit. The hunger of uncertainty. I like it. Different than the hunger of stagnancy.”

And later, the same person and conversation:

“Just take the risk. I will be your safety net. You can sleep at the foot of my bed and eat ramen every day, I promise. I am so generous, right?”

Notes from the flight:

  • On engagement photos for a couple that does food photography: “Due to a homophonic mix-up, Beth’s recipe calling for flour was replaced by flowers. Now everything’s coming up roses.” Also led to this discovery of Alexis Russell rings, which are among the things that I shouldn’t covet.
  • “Prove me right. Break my heart.”
  • “Why do you always feel so inevitable to me?”
  • “Don’t tell me you’re back here because freedom was inconvenient for you.”