Tuesday, December 29, 2009

give me a bowl of serial love

What a ridiculous week-end. Saturday I went to a birthday party and was attacked by an alien sphinx cat; it left me bloodied and undressed me in front of a room full of people. Then Sunday I drove to Connecticut with my buddy, to attend an engagement party. Then we drove back to NYC and went to a cocktail party on the Upper East Side but I was so drained at that point I barely could stay for one drink before I crawled back into my little bear cave. Still, such fun! I wish I had the energy to do this every week-end, but sadly my poems have taken over my life and I really can only be social in intermittent bursts.

Gingerbread man latte, they look even happier than we looked eating them!

I got some really lovely gifts this year -- a framed printing of one of my favorite poems, a heart locket from my father, some amazing cupcake tools from my sis, hysterical comedy mix dvds (genius idea). I put a lot of thought into buying gifts this year but when it came time to wrapping them things weren't as well planned. I got to the drug store late and all they had left was clear easter egg paper and 'congratulations on your wedding' wrapping. So that's what people got.

I went to a cafe today to do some writing and got into a state of mind where I just could not focus normally. I ended up writing a poem on my coffee cup:

On the way home I passed a juice bar and went in for a shot of wheatgrass. It's supposed to detoxify you and etc. but it made me feel funny, like I wanted to dance and sleep at the same time.

Also, I was sniffing around Barnes and Nobles for something to read on this cold night, and found Nick Flynn's newest book 'The Ticking is the Bomb'. I almost fainted with happiness, I didn't think it was coming out until mid-january!

The look on my face is pure luxury, and sad because I know I will devour this book in no time.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Christmastime and Self-Indulgence

So my darling came to visit:

and we had such Christmassy fun! We went to see the Nutcracker, and Lincoln Center was flooded with adorable kids pirouetting across the floors and dusty older people attempting to do the same. Afterwards we went for cocktails at the Waldorf Astoria. Darling had the Millionaires Martini, and I had the Jaded Grasshopper because I like to hop? Either way, I can cross off new cocktails from my 101 in 1,001 list! And I love rubbing fancy elbows, I have 14k splinters!

I spent the early majority of the day re-alphabetizing the poems in my thesis and calculating how many poems I produced per month this semester. I spent the mid majority of the day nervously crying over my thesis and yelling at it because of all the work that needs to be done until it is a real live book. I spent the late majority of the day baking a gingerbread house and drowning my sorrows in the assembly line of jelly beans and snow caps:

Those are gummi frogs surrounding the house, because I didn't want it to be inhabited by boring old gingerbread men. It was occupied by the frogs and I don't really think that's strange at all.

Earlier this month I threw my Christmas dinner party. I basically just baked some lasagnas, sliced some cheese and made a fabulous Croquembouche (care of Martha Stewart). I adored having my lovelies altogether, we had such fun and no one was robbed or sexually violated this time.

She looks like she wants to decapitate me but really she adores me and I adore her!

The number one thing on my Christmas wish list that I didn't actually put on any of the wishlists people asked me to make.

10 Things in my Bedroom Right Now

1. jar of pumpkin pie spice
2. snow globe
3. leopard print pillow
4. empty champagne flute
5. rock from the great wall of china in a ziploc bag
6. typewriter with half a poem in its mouth
7. fake pearl earrings
8, real diamond earrings
9. stack of overdue (stolen?) library books
10. christmas gifts that need to be wrapped
11. my thesis (which has snowspots from when a homeless man burst into the cafe and fluttered the pages all over the storm floor. [I will never alphabetize in public again] )

I keep listening to the audio of this poem on repeat. Seriously, each time I listen to this I think "What's the point of my writing poetry, he just said it all." But then I get selfish and want to go to a dictionary and scoop up every word and keep it for myself. Sometimes I really hate the fact that I have to share this language with everyone. I wish I could just have a secret language that no one speaks, but when they read my poems they would instantly fall into tears and sadness and think of my words as fresh jam and use their limbs as toast and spread my poems all over themselves until they were so sticky and sweet and ridiculous that no one would touch them, and they would be lonely forever but they would be happy. Those are the kinds of poems I want to write.

I've been thinking a lot about if being a "poet" is a choice. I've been crazy about poetry since I was a kid-- I sent out neatly typed poems to some magazines when I was 11 years old, cover letter included, I even notified them that my poems were "simultaneous submissions". But I never considered it a possibility of an actual career until I was 20. Now, 4 (to 5) years later, I am in a place where I consider my future only as poetess. There is no other option. It's almost as though I contracted some horrid disease. I feel like I don't really have a choice in the matter; if I weren't to write poetry, and if poetry weren't my primary focus and my "identity" for the rest of my life, I'd be heartbroken and at a standstill. If it were taken away from me I think I would just freeze in my tracks and look around confused. This annoys me to a large degree -- I've always relished in the freedom of having any career or future at my disposal, I always thought I could be capable of anything and I could do whatever I liked, but now I have a future set in stone. Are there people out there for which poetry is a luxury? Something that could be snipped away to maintain a budget. Something that could be pushed aside to pursue a more lucrative field? I feel like I've contracted some horrible disease, that milks my blood, dries out my brain tissue, exhausts my resources and claims ownership on the rest of my alive years. I love poetry so much, but lately realizing that it is not just a hobby, not just a career, not just a passion but an identity for me. This has made me nervous.

On a different note, my fabulous sister has adopted one of my poems and is turning it into a complicated, amazing creature. (It will be the base of a 15 min performance and interpreted by dance, music and video). She is doing it in Australia, because she thinks the kangaroos are more receptive to art, and also because she will be there for a good while.

So, my first Christmas on the Upper East Side was interesting. I spent it snuggled up with Oliver, as I was puppy sitting. In the morning we went and played in the snow, everyone decked out in designer snowboots, I watched as all the little kids marched down the street with their department store sleds in hand, and I delighted in sneaking onto my balcony and throwing snowballs at unsuspecting passerbys. Also, I drove down to see the gorgeous homes in Dyker Heights, all decked out in elaborate Christmas decorations. It was pretty impressive, but then, I am easily impressed.

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Procrastination, Psychics, Poetry

I Thought I Was Finished Rewriting My Poem Until I Found Out It's Illegal to Cremate More Than One Person at a Time in the U.S., also: Why Revising a Poem Gives Me a Headache:

1. I write a poem about death/a funeral: I have to research the history behind all burial/death processes.

2. I use the color gray. I spend the better half of the day deciding if I want to spell the word "gray" or "grey". "Grey" seems fancier/more European but "gray" looks more comforting and homelier. Then I decide that "grey/gray" doesn't even belong in the poem.

3. One of the metaphors I want to use belongs to a topic that I don't know much about, so I must wait a week for a book explaining the topic to be delivered after I order it online.

4. Someone once told me to never use an exclamation point in a poem unless I was actually having an orgasm as I wrote it.

5. I sometimes hate a poem after I have changed its font.

6. The period near the end of the poem makes it seem as though the poem is sexual.

7. I have a word such as "peach" in my poem, and "peach" means several things to me that it doesn't mean to anyone else. [I associate it with Princess Peach from Super Mario Brothers, or the time I went peach picking in Long Island, or how I feel nauseated at the smell of a peach pit.]

8. I could never use the word "raven" without conjuring Edgar Allan Poe, as I could never use the word "bees" without conjuring Sylvia Plath, and could never use a red dress without conjuring Kim Addonizio. People who read poetry who will read my poem will have read these authors, and those author's poems will inevitably be serving as the backdrop to mine.

9. I'm convinced that gerunds sound like a disease.

10. I am not sure if the time it takes me to complete a breath corresponds to the average time it takes a human to take one breath, so I have to research it online. Because, of course, if the average reader took a breath before the wrong word it would be a disaster, and I would never survive, etc.

11. Some people pronounce words differently than I do (aka people who have accents, which is anyone who was brought up in a different environment than I was or a different town etc.)

12. The current syntax's personality is more hostile than accepting.

13. Someone once told me to never use the word "tiny" in a poem, but I ran out of synonyms for "small".

14. Sometimes a parenthesis feels like too much love, when I want to be cold and heartless.

Anyway and otherwise: Thanksgiving. I had to bake a sweet potato pie. There was a pumpkin shortage. I've always wanted to be a Southern Belle.

Last week I went for a walk in my neighborhood and found myself outside of a psychic's place, so of course I went in. I'd never been and it's on my list of things. She told me many interesting things; that I had a man in my life who had feelings for me yet didn't express them, and that I was a very lucky person, and that I would have a happy marriage and would not struggle to get by financially. My best friend had her tarot card reading right after mine and was told she was very negative and had a sleep-disturbing dream life and that she'd been cursed by a spanish woman a few years ago. After thinking about things and comparing notes with my best friend I realized something; that the psychic most likely said as many negative things to me as she had to my best friend, and as many positive things to me as to my best friend, yet I remembered all the positive, uplifting things and my best friend remembered the negative. I really do believe in the idea that the entire world exists in your own head, and most things can have a positive or negative slant based on the eyes you're looking through, and this experience reinforces it a bit.

Things I've Done in the Past Few Days Whilst Procrastinating Writing Poetry:

1. Washed the dishes
2. Organized the shoes in the hallway according to size, style and color
3. Hung Christmas lights
4. Called the Customer Service of a website because I thought they were falsely advertising something
5. Watched the entire first season of "Secret Diary of a Call Girl"
6. Printed out and alphabetized everything I've ever written
7. Deleted anyone from my phonebook if I could not think of 3 good things about them
8. Cleaned out my air filter
9. Organized my make-up drawer
10. Sat in my tub for 20 minutes and thought about all the things I'm grateful for (due to Thanksgiving), followed by 20 minutes in the tub thinking about all the things that piss me off
11. Checked the energy level of all my batteries

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

It's just a hump to get over, not a whole damn camel.

So today I had a pretty amazing *school day*. I felt like I was just so joyful and glowing with all the positive things that were happening poetry-wise. To recap:

1. My professor unfortunately had to cancel our class today, but we decided to meet for workshop anyway. And, every single person showed up, and we did the class on our own. I was seriously stunned. Throughout high school and college I could never have imagined anyone showing up when the professor canceled class, let alone every single person showing up. Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of this, but I seriously was so proud and happy to be a part of such a talented, devoted group of writers.

2. I experienced such an overwhelming kindness and care from my program advisor as she stuck up for me and got me into the workshop I had my heart set on for next semester.

3. I met with my thesis advisor, and had a significant change in perspective as to where I want my thesis to go.

4. Opium appointed me with a poetry assistant. I'm thrilled that now I will not be all lonesome and there will be a much more powerful team in making the poetry in the magazine even more awesome!

So with all these amazing, heartwarming, inspiring things happening, in 1 single day, it is obvious that I had to get something that would commemorate it all, and it comes in the form of the Sarah Lawrence Mascot Bear, that I purchased from the school store:

Yes, I know it's extraordinarily corny to have so much school spirit at this age, particularly in the form of a stuffed bear in a sweatshirt, but I refuse to feel any shame, and anything besides delight when I look at his squinty, furry face.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

"the teeth/ are never finally the/ teeth of love"

Last week I woke up one morning after having dreamt of Bukowski all night. I woke up loving him terribly, and ate my breakfast over Love is a Dog From Hell. [The blog post title is from his poem "Iron Mike"]

My best friend attended a pot luck dinner at her law school and had to bring something. Since she doesn't cook she asked me to make her something. I decided to take out my beloved cupcake bible: Martha Stewart's Cupcakes. I chose a coconut cupcake dressed like a baby chick!

Here is what they are supposed to look like:

Here is how mine turned out:

So, a bit squatter and a slight lazy eye, but I still thought they looked adorable! I got quite attached to them and was sad when they marched off, brave and determined, housed in a pizza box, into the cold, cold world.

Anyway, I've been madly reading and re-reading: Stupid Hope, by Jason Shinder. It's a horrible thing, to discover an amazing new poet, to feel that hot flush of poems that re-inspire you, that awaken something in yourself, and then read on the back cover that he's recently died. It really bothers me sometimes, that there's so much great poetry out there, right now, that I don't even know about. The fact that it's there is haunting to me.

Friday, November 6, 2009


I've been sniffly and sick the past few days, but have been fighting it like mad. Tons of vitamin C, Echinacea tea and probiotic yogurt, plus my magic green 'cocktail':

I juice apples, lemon, ginger, spinach and celery and end up with a super healthy, energetic and yummy drink. I drink it from a martini glass so it feels more glamorous.

Today I was feeling a bit better and cooked dinner for my sister. I made a steak with blue cheese sauce, a recipe I've been trying to master, and we drank "Bitch" wine:

And for dessert we got these scrumptious cupcakes from Crumbs:

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Don't Try

So the month of 30 poems in the month of October is officially over. I'm so, so proud of myself because I finished the project (though I took an extra day). Granted, some of the 'poems' are kinda crap and a half-desperate attempt to finish, but there was no "quality" laws on this project! Hurrah! I'm done! I don't think I've ever wrote so intensely in all my life! Here's a link again: http://reconsiderthesky.blogspot.com/

I have to thank my fantastical poetess's Victoria and Eugenia for being such great partners in this endeavor. They were so inspiring with their prompts and their own poems!

Anyway, Halloween was a blast. My best friend/roommate has been getting me more and more into this holiday (I used to hate it!). My costume was throwback to the 50's, nothing too elaborate. I'm so painfully un-creative when it comes to costuming. A crazy night though; we debauched some innocent teenagers, someone ended up sleeping in my bathtub and rhinestones were everywhere!

Monday, October 19, 2009

"A black, intractable mind"

I've been in kind of a dark place for the past few days, but today I dragged myself out of it and spent the evening preparing a delicious autumn meal, consisting of cracked wheat toast with goat cheese, coconut curry stew with a bunch of Fall vegetables and pumpkin cookies with browned butter frosting for dessert.

I also bought some little baby pumpkins to carve tomorrow!

I went to the library today and found the unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath. The reason why I chose to do my poetry marathon this month was in part to honor Sylvia Plath, whose birthday is October 27th. I'm also re-reading her book Ariel, in its restored edition (how she originally intended it as opposed to how her ex husband decided to put it together posthumously). Very satisfying.

So there are some days where I feel very desirable and foxy, like the days when I get the "50% off pretty girl discount" or when a man calls his elevator ride with me the thrill of his life. Then there are the other days, when my womanly sexiness doesn't feel quite so alive, like that time I left a bookstore and the security guard said "Have a good evening, sir".

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

"Every Woman Adores a Fascist"

I've been beaming for the past two days because I found out that my poem "Alternative Medicine" will be adopted by the fabulous magazine Redivider, for their spring 2010 issue. I don't get published too often, so when it happens I pop open a bottle of champagne:

Otherwise, I have been galloping. My thesis advisor told me to stop worrying so much about the particulars for my book, to stop obsessing and to just gallop, to write write write! So I wrote gallop on a post-it and stuck it on my bathroom mirror.

Some quotes from very different sources, that I've been adoring recently:

"Some girls they like candy, and others they like to grind. I'll settle for the back of your hand somewhere on my behind. Treat me like I'm a bad girl, even when I'm being good to you. I don't want you to thank me, you can just spank me... Please don't call a doctor, 'cause there's nothing wrong with me. I just like things a little rough and you better not disagree. 'Cause I don't like a big softy, no, I like someone mean and bossy."

-"Hanky Panky by Madonna

"Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you."

-"Daddy" by Sylvia Plath

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Live Bunnies! Running Loose!

The title for this blog post is credited to a line from this amazing poem

My workshop this semester is so interesting. My professor is very particular about details, and tells us that for every poetic choice we make, we'd better be able to defend it in court. She seems like a pretty amazing person, and her guidance has already helped to whip my poems into shape. She's completely changed my perception of the purpose of a poems title, and has helped me to look at each line of a poem with a much stricter focus. (She urges us to attempt some "Stand Alone Lines" or SAL's) In the last poem I workshopped with her, she told me the poem needed more Velveta (the cheese).

I have befriended a lovely Japanese poet who has been trying to teach me some things in Japanese (there are no accents on the following because I have no idea how to do that):

"Watashi no namae wa Jennifer desu" means: "My name is Jennifer"

"Watashi wa shijin desu" means: "I'm a poet!"

and "tentoumushi" means: "a ladybug"

All very important phrases, and I'm pretty sure I could survive on these alone, if I had to. Anyway, she also has such interesting ideas on restraint and emotion and art, and her philosophy on life is enlightening. I love to be around her because she makes me feel calm, and centered, and closer to the world.

So, every April is national poetry month, and a bunch of people around the world try to write 30 poems in 30 days during that month. I've never tried it because, frankly, it intimidated me. But with the glaring deadline of my thesis/book of poetry approaching, I decided to give it a try during the month of October. A few other poets from my school are doing it with me, and they are such stunning writers that it really keeps me motivated. Here is the link to my other blog that I created just for this endeavor. It kind of feels like a monster that I've created that keeps eating and eating away and soon will take on a life of its own. I typically write about a poem a week so this marathon is forcing me to multiply my production rate by 7. But if I finish these 30 days and am still alive/intact I will feel such a cool rush or accomplishment. So, yay!

Also, something I'll add to my 101 in 1,001, I want to complete a journal. I fill it mainly with notes, poems and research for poems. I've never in my life actually finished a journal to the last page. In all honesty I usually write in the first few pages, maybe write in a dozen, but invariably buy a new journal and write in that instead. In an effort to 'finish something i've started' I want to reach the last page of this journal. I started it at the beginning of the summer. The journal has about 300 pages in it, and I have around 20 pages left. The end is near!!

I'm also very excited about Autumn and all Autumn related things. All I want to do is carve pumpkins to put out on my balcony, drink hot spiced apple drinks and take hayrides through the country side!

Thursday, August 20, 2009

"I am the one navigating the night without stars"

I just got back from my poetry conference in Cape Cod. I managed to get my beloved Canadian to come along with me, and it was such a peaceful and lovely trip. We were right by the beach and the town was pretty far removed from everything. It was so quaint and picturesque -- the kind of town that doesn't seem quite real. Everyone is so friendly that by the end of the 4 day conference I felt like I was part of a community. My workshop advisor was Kathleen Aguerro, and she was sweet as a peach and so encouraging, and had such great perspective on poetry and revising work. At first I felt a tiny bit nervous because I think I was the youngest person there by several decades, but I forgot about that pretty quickly when I realized we were all in the same boat.

One great poet I was exposed to, and to whom I credit my blog post title, was Martin Espada. Read his great poem: "Not Here"

I was having such a dry spell all summer, but Cape Cod really re-booted me. I wrote so much while I was there, and haven't stopped since! It was all pretty perfect, picture this -- sitting out on the porch and rubbing ice over ourselves (it was so hot!), playing the harmonica for a lovely mosquito audience, evening strolls along the beach, watching Saved by the Bell movies, eating steak every night, hearing the life stories of about a dozen cab drivers.

Have you ever played that game where you try to guess the color another person is thinking? You touch their temples and gaze into their eyes and have them imagine everything that comes in that color? You probably haven't, because I made it up, but it's a lot of fun. Usually when I play with people they never guess right, but with my little sister she guesses my colors right about 99% of the time. I made my beloved play with me on the trip, and turns out she can guess my color right everytime as well. Everytime she declared "pink" or "blue" with such quiet confidence I screamed and tumbled out of bed. This just further proves my theory that we can communicate on a different level.

Poodle peeking out.

On the way there we stopped over in Providence, Rhode Island, and I bought animal crackers from a man on the street. They tasted horrible but I found this owl cracker!

Monday, July 13, 2009

Running away to the circus

For the fourth of July I threw a bbq at my house. The main guests were my best friends family whose father had never been to my house for a celebration in all our years of friendship, so of course I wanted to make it extra special. I planned out an elaborate dinner menu, with a prosciutto and melon appetizer, grilled pork loins as a main course, and bumblebee cupcakes care of Martha Stewart. Sadly I had forgotten that her family is Jewish and couldn't eat pork so I had to ditch all the food I made and run to the supermarket and buy chicken at the last minute. I don't know what compelled me to create an all-pork meal for a bunch of Jewish folk, maybe it is the hidden racist within me. We still all had a great time ;)

I made the decision to move from my lovely apartment in Bronxville to an apartment on the Upper East Side. I found a great place and will be living there with my best buddy so I'm pretty darn excited about all that. It's a duplex type apartment so there are 3 floors in it, and we each have our own bathroom!? Also, I have a balcony which I plan to put a mini garden in and grow fresh herbs and flowers with.

Also, I went to the circus at Coney Island the other day. I haven't been since I was a little girl and it seemed a lot smaller than I recall, but still pretty impressive. Here are some girls pre-show:

We also took our picture in a mini photo booth which are pretty much the best things ever:

Yesterday I drove out with friends to a wine tasting in Long Island. It was so nice to be out in the country and I got to learn all about how to drink wine properly and what I should be sniffing/tasting. I smelled amazing things, like grapefruit, smoke, green apple and buttered toast, when before all I smelled in wine was wine!

Afterwards we went to the beach:

I also got some cute salt and pepper shakers shaped like birds!:

But one of the birds keeps leaking pepper out of its butt so it's kind of a problem...

So it was a pretty awesome week-end but then I got into a minor car accident last night at midnight. I was in a Wendys parking lot waiting impatiently for chicken nuggets, and the guy in the car behind me leaned in to kiss his girlfriend and his foot slipped off the brake, thus crashing into my car. I would be madder if it wasn't so romantic.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Things I can only write in the dark

I love writing letters to my dearest friends on stiff parchment paper and sealing them with an old fashioned wax seal. It's so lovely to communicate to them this way and is a relief in my over-texting, e-mail crazy life. Earth Hour got me started on shutting off all the lights in my apartment and writing by candlelight, and it's such a peaceful time in my week when I can sit inside a quiet pocket of time that doesn't feel like the 21st century:

I wish I could afford to have fresh flowers in my house every week. I think it's a very grown-up characteristic:

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Out, out brief candle

For some reason I've been putting myself to sleep lately by reading various scenes from Hamlet aloud. As a result I wake up in the middle of the night with spooky thoughts.

It is strange to be at a point in your life where you are working on the career you will have for the rest of your life. So I was thinking of all the various careers I could have had that would have been pretty fun in my opinion:

1. Acrobat in the circus -- I took gymnastics when I was younger and always found this fascinating, contortionism in particular
2. Bakery owner -- baking delectable items is still high on my list of things I love to do, I recently made a decadent three layer chocolate cake rife with raspberries, almonds and caramel for my sisters birthday. We celebrated in an open park though, and it was difficult to light the candles. When finally we had them lit, several of us had to crowd around them, cupping the flames to protect it from wind until she could blow them out. How silly.
3. Burlesque dancer -- I've always loved this stuff, the festival
is coming up soon. I think I would have been to shy for something like this though.
4. Matchmaker -- because I enjoy seeing people fall in love, and find the dynamics of that equation interesting.
5. Rockette -- it combines two of my favorite things - dancing and Christmas!

Thursday, May 28, 2009

And the living is easy

So my first year of grad school has finally come to a close and I'm astonished at how quickly it's gone. Summertime is wonderful, filled with sidewalk cocktail hours, seaside picnics and flirty dresses, but at the same time the season always makes me a bit nervous. For the past 10 years it's been this way, I tend to go a little mad at this time of year, which I attribute to the lack of a rigid school schedule/workload. I'm most content when I have a clear set of parameters and consistent deadlines to meet, but summer is like a hot fuzzy tunnel that I have to climb my way through, get lost in, and try to manage to make it out the other side where the crisp leaves and freshly sharpened pencils of Fall semester lies. Okay, that was a slightly convoluted simile now that I think about it. And 'hot fuzzy tunnel' sounds somewhat pervy on second thought. Anyway. So to ward off my typical summertime mental breakdown/depression I've been sticking to a strict regimen of reading and writing since school let out a couple weeks ago, which means I spend most my days holed up in the library.

I've been exploring and hopping around to different libraries in my quest to find the perfect one. In case there's anyone out in the ether that is as nerdy and library crazy as I, I've come up with ratings for some of the libraries I've perused in the past couple weeks:

Research Library - Midtown - Upside: luxuriously ornate and makes me feel like I'm studying to become Queen. Also, an abundance of cute boys to rest my poetry weary eyes on from time to time. Downside: quite the commute from where I live, and you can't check anything out.

Mid Manhattan Library - Midtown - Upside: amazing poetry collection. Downside: suspiciously homeless people lurk about, also the man who works the desk on the lit floor freaks me out with his germaphobia, I'm afraid if I sneeze near him he will behead me.

White Plains Library - Westchester - Upside: very quiet and has a pretty good poetry section, also gives me an excuse to drive to White Plains and nibble at Atlanta Bread Co. Downside: None really, except the ladies rest rooms hand dryer is broken and I don't like having wet hands.

Sarah Lawrence Library - Bronxville - Upside: extremely close, has cozy little desks to study in, good poetry section and great magazine/journal section, really sweet staff. Downside: to hunt for books I need I have to go into a dungeon where the bookcases are all packed together and only separate when you press a button, at which point they float magically apart, but I'm afraid one day the will float magically back together while I'm in the middle and I'll be crushed to death while clawing away at some Sylvia Plath.

Tuckahoe Library
- Westchester - Upside: they have a couple leather chairs that are kind of comfortable. Downside: It's tiny, frequented by old people and small children, and when I asked the clerk where the poetry section was she squinted at me like I was a disease and led me to a pathetic half a shelf of dusty poetry books.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

25 Things

1. I'm terrified of driving on the highway, and when I'm forced to I merge by closing my eyes and stepping on the gas.
2. I'm obsessed with the sound of my own voice, and the voices of all people in general. I sometimes record myself reading things (like poems) and try to modify my speaking patterns.
3. I think I'm fancy because I use my vintage typewriter to make up grocery lists.
4. I dress according to the time of year, not the weather, which landed me in a snowfall a little while ago in flip flops and a sundress.
5. I haven't carried an umbrella in years. I think umbrellas are for squares. (Unless you have really pretty ones like E.)
6. Drinking-wise, I'm not a lightweight by any means, but if I have a shot of anything during the night, I'm legally no longer responsible for my actions. (true fact, and this is why I do not drink liquor)
7. I want to read the favorite book of everyone I love/kind of like.
8. I feel inferior to a lot of people because I don't read the newspaper everyday. I don't really know what's going on in the world, but I can recite you a sonnet by heart or explain to you the mating habits of otters. (different priorities)
9. I have a huge soft spot for public libraries, and the only time I write letters to the government are to plead for more funding for them.
10. I wear perfume everywhere I go, because you never know when someone important will sniff you. I have over a dozen bottles of perfume and consider myself to have a master nose. I like to go to department stores and smell perfumes until I get a headache. Sometimes when I'm in a grocery store I'll accidentally sniff a can of soup or a box of crackers.
11. I always have the television on. It's like my adult version of the imaginary friend.
12. I plan on lying about my age once I hit 25.
13. I think people who sing along to songs in public are annoying but I do it myself
14. When I'm feeling musical I'll pull out my violin and play 'Mary Had a Little Lamb'. I've been playing violin for a few years but it's the only song I play, or want to play, really. You would think I'd get sick of it, but I don't, it's a classic.
15. I don't really trust or like people who have small appetites, or people who don't drink.
16. I think that air conditioners make the most wonderful sound in the world.
17. Whenever I buy a new pet goldfish I miraculously end up in a relationship with someone that ends up being a long term relationship. I know this is a silly superstition, but I am a Pisces after all. I'm planning to buy a new goldfish in August so we'll see if this holds true.
18. As much as I try, I cannot walk around in high heels.
19. I dream every night about the most mundane things; buying light bulbs, talking to someone on the phone, paying my rent. And I often confuse things that have happened in my dreams for having occurred in real life. This causes problems.
20. I'm happier in the ocean than on land.
21. There is not a single person in the world that I could say that I "hate". (although at the time of press I may just be forgetting some things)
22. I went through a phase in high school where I wore bright pink everyday, sometimes from head to toe.
23. I'm in a really good mood 90% of the time.
24. I'm a little hypochondriac-y but largely only because of webmd.com, because any symptom you type into it will tell you that you have cancer or AIDS. And also because if I sneeze around my mom she will tell me I'm dying.
25. I honestly believe that one day someone will write a biography about me, and try to live my life accordingly. But who wouldn't want to write a biography about a fancy, word-hungry, violin playing, perfume wearing, imaginary, superstitious, happy poet?

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Let us all breathe in again at once

What a lovely and amazing week. My beloved came to visit and we went for a boat ride in Central Park. I really feel at my happiest when I'm out on a body of water. I also magically get infinitely drunker when on the open seas. I think this all has to do with the fact that I'm a pisces.

And this week-end I basically lived and breathed poetry, as it was my schools annual poetry festival. I spent the hours in the breath and sway of "poet-trees" and I won't even try to name all the amazing poets who read, but I will say that at more than one instance I felt the overwhelming chill that can only come with great art, and experienced the suffocation of awe. Yep. This week-end I also received possibly the greatest gift ever: a vintage typewriter. I've wanted one forever, and since I've gotten it I have been smacking out words and lines like there was no tomorrow, much to the dismay of the people who've stayed with me. But really, how beautiful:

This was the first thing I typed:

Sunday, April 5, 2009

When the world is puddle wonderful

It is now April, and that means it's National Poetry Month. One thing I occasionally dream about is owning my own bakery, and if I did I would give free muffins to anyone who could recite a poem by heart during this lovely month. At this time of year I always engulf myself in e.e. cummings -- to me he is the "spring" poet, if there can be such a thing. Here's a great poem by him, I loved this so much I wrote it on my wall in my old house so I could see it every morning.

I have been updating my 1,001 in 101 list, here. I've added several new goals, but am getting nervous because it's nearing the midway point and I am not half way through all my aspirations. Except "try 10 new cocktails", but let's be honest - I could knock that out in one debauchery filled week-end.

I've always been fascinated with psychology, I think that being a psychologist is #5 on the list of things I want to be when I grow up. So this past friday I attended a live demonstration of Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy at the Albert Ellis Institute with my best friend. They took a few audience volunteers to "therapize" in front of everyone so people could see how it's done. Of course, my buddy volunteered me. I felt like I was insulting the whole situation, since I don't have any mental issues or any real problems, but I soon got into it, and it was kind of exhilarating to bare the deepest things and worries that were living in my heart to a room full of complete strangers.

That evening I ended up at a biker bar somehow, and decided to sleep at my moms house. She didn't know I was there, and woke me up in the morning by bursting in and blessing the place with holy water. She explained that she had this sudden urge to bless the room. I didn't think anything of it, but throughout my day as I wandered around town I was approached by not one, but three psychics, all claiming that there was something that I should know about. This all convinced me that something terrible was going to happen to me, so for the past two days I've been waiting for whatever it is to happen. Then, a couple hours ago I heard police cars and an ambulance racing into my apartment complex, and then heard them stop in front of my building, and come up to my floor. I opened the door expecting that they were coming for me, that perhaps they knew that something terrible was going to happen to me and were going to rescue me. Instead they rescued my next door neighbor, who had apparently stopped breathing. I've been peeping out my peep hole hoping to see her return unharmed, and feeling silly.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Earth Hour

Tonight I plan on celebrating Earth Hour for the first time. If you don't know already, you're supposed to shut out your lights from 8:30 to 9:30 p.m. tonight. Even the Las Vegas Srip will be dark for this hour. I plan on lighting a bunch of candles to put around my apartment, maybe have some wine and take a bubble bath. People do much funner things though: like street parties and candlelit speed dating! I think it would be neat if every household/store practiced this, if even the street lights were shut off. We could walk around the streets in the complete darkness, with the sky clear and thick with visible stars, and just enjoy the serenity of that kind of desert (between the rapings and muggings of course). Or, we could go up in a hot air balloon and watch the lights go off one by one until it felt like we didn't exist anymore, and were just floating through an endless dark ocean.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

"And all disheveled wandering stars"

There is something about the first day of spring that makes me intensely, unabashedly happy. I feel like this time of year is the real start to the new year, since my birthday is around here and the flowers start blooming and the blood in peoples bodies start moving again after a long and cold winter. There is a small garden I used to go to, where they have a honeybee hive, and I learned about how bees survive the winter. All the bees in the colony formed a furry ball around the queen bee, and they rotated continually throughout the winter to keep her warm. At the end of winter all the bees died, but the queen survived. When I heard this, I thought: that is exactly how my winter went. Well, the little bees that kept me warm did not die, exactly, but you understand what I mean.

I went to Paris and Venice for the most amazing honeymoon like vacation with my beloved, Liz. Paris was a gustatory delight, even the rifraf enjoyed delicacies:

I also discovered that I adore puppets:

One of the highlights of the trip was having a full afternoon cooking lesson with a real live French chef. He taught us how to make a fabulous meal including shrimps in a salad (that's not the official name), pears soaked in red wine, and this stewy thing that was yum. Afterwards, we were so turned on we had to go shopping for lingerie.