April 26, 2013

midnight ruckus

Full moon sneaks into town and steals my sleep.

My spirit animals chase each other around my studio and through my half waking, and I'm not really sure what that means.

Wolf.

Fox.

Hart.

Whale?

Falcon.

Swan.


The fox is only joking, half the time.
The fox is only joking half the time.

Full moon sneaks into town and steals my sleep. Makes me sound crazy and redundant. Makes me vibrate, blood humming. Makes me speculate in the silver dark. Makes the animals restless.

A thief, and a gifted one at that.

Suddenly bored, it seems the desultory race has dissolved into a game of the-floor-is-hot-lava. Deer on the table, fox on the fridge, wolf on the ottoman. Swan in the bathtub, falcon on the bookcase. Whale has a distinct advantage. Did you ever see Life of Pi? Beautiful. They stare, in the animal way, which is to say none of them are looking at me directly and hence I've never felt so keenly observed in all my life. I feel near feral myself. Achingly alert.

Love: It will kill you and save you, both.

I am not high. I swear. It's only the moon, dragging me out of my bed, toward the sky.

The animals flicker, then collapse like stars.

April 24, 2013

just saying

"We" is so much more complicated than "I."

April 23, 2013

fitness secrets

I've never in the history of ever had thighs that don't touch, though I am usually reasonably fit. I don't much mind the way they look but when I go running in shorts I get an icky rash which is extremely upsetting and painful. And I can't just stop wearing shorts because you guys it is dang hot out and plus I can't get a tan in yoga pants and without a tan I'm pretty sure they kick you out of CA. (Just kidding! Maybe? I don't know, I haven't totally figured this place out yet.)

Anyway. If you have thighs that don't touch... Please, kind wizard, teach me your ways.

April 18, 2013

style

You can't try to be somebody you're not; that's not style. If someone
says, "Buy this, you'll be stylish," you won't be stylish because you won't
be you. You have to learn who you are first, and that's painful.

Iris Apfel

I've been really wanting some new clothes, but I can't seem to find anything lately that speaks to me. I try to shop but the current trends don't fit my shape or my life and I leave frustrated. I'm struggling quite a bit with getting dressed in the mornings and I wish with increasing frequency that I could just walk around naked.

I think it's true that you have to know who you are to choose clothes you like and that you feel spectacular in. And it's true that the learning of it is painful, as any kind of honest self examination can be. I think the reason I want a new wardrobe and the reason I'm having trouble choosing it are the same: I feel like I'm at the start of a new chapter of my life, poised again on the brink of some major changes... But this time I'm not scared, or confused, or anxious. I've discovered that I'm not a lot of the things that I once assumed defined my existence. So how do I choose a look that conveys a state of mind I've never experienced before? How do I dress for a future I never thought I'd see?

April 16, 2013

I'm so glad you were born



Happy Birthday, my love!
You really are the best. I hope you know it. xoxoxo


April 14, 2013

repercussions

The agony of revelation
is too excruciating for words
the possibilities, the opportunities that await
the delicious, terrible, frightening power
of will, of choosing. We understand
abruptly, profoundly, in the marrow of our bones
that we are dying, that
the very air, no matter how clear is poison
slowly killing us, each breath hastening
our own decay. Thus
in one visceral moment paradise
has become a hell
and I hope you trust
that I mean what I say
when I say that ignorance was bliss but
even as the taste of the fruit turns
to ashes on our tongues we
already

crave

another

bite.


April 13, 2013

the love club


Really enjoying The Love Club EP by Lorde. Playing on repeat!

Discovered via Miss Moss, via A Cup of Jo.

April 10, 2013

April 8, 2013

overheard

Elderly Lady 1: "You need a man in your life. I hate to say it, but you do."
Elderly Lady 2: "I don't want any more husbands. I've had enough of that."
Elderly Lady 1: "Oh Lord, I didn't say a husband! Nobody needs a husband. I said a man."

April 7, 2013

vegas!



Our whirlwind 48hr itinerary included: an upgraded convertible with the top down, Thai food, pizza, napping, late night TV, overpriced everything, margaritas by the pool, more napping, walking The Strip, taking lots of pictures, exploring casinos I hadn't seen yet, a mandatory stop at the Bellagio fountain (my favorite thing), more napping, getting dressed up to go dance at The Palms at 1:00am, city views from the rooftop, kitsch everywhere, more napping, more pool time, the Neon Boneyard, more pictures, not being too impressed with Fremont Street, and finally ducking into a nice bar full of locals for happy hour before our flight home.

I'm glad we came back late Friday night and still had the weekend ahead of us to rest, because despite all the napping I am exhausted! But very happy we did it and thankful for my awesome, easygoing boyfriend.

April 2, 2013

couldn't ask for anything better

On Sunday morning we laid in bed and listened to the rain peter out, finally exhausted from it's nightlong temper tantrum, until bright gold rays lanced the blinds and the birdies outside said it was time to get up, get up, get up. Without the ceremony of showers or hair brushing or, if we're being honest, real clothes for any of us, we bundled P's nieces out the door and into the car and off to Denny's. A's tiny hand in mine, like a baby bunny's, warm and improbably small, across the parking lot and into a big booth by the window where water still dripped from the eves and made a lacy curtain of sparkles as it fell. R's intense adolescent persona softened, for once, as she colored her menu, and it was nice to see a calm little girl, if only briefly, in her stead.

We ordered breakfast, cheap and hot, and in between bites marveled quietly at the fancy church people in their pretty Easter clothes. Years ago, I would have felt self conscious under their eyes, but not now. I did not feel shabby, but shiny-bright and glorious and content. I looked around the table at those three complex and deeply lovely companions of mine and told them, I could not ask for anyone or anything better than you three, right here, right now. At a Denny's. On Easter morning.