Monday, April 16, 2012

clocks and things

I'm either happy or productive.
Today I'm happy
(Which sucks).
I need to be productive.

"If some great Power would agree to
make me always think what is true and
do what is right, on condition of being
turned into a sort of clock and wound up
every morning before I got out of bed, I
should instantly close with the offer."
-Thomas Henry Huxley

I would so much rather be happy and a little selfish and happy and a wee bit oblivious than to always be doing something I'm supposed to be doing. All the time! Yerrghghgh. 

Today I want to eat Gardettos and ice cream and shave my legs and get started on my reading list in the sun. I want to write a song and a few letters and play with a baby or two and go on a hike and perform on stage tonight.
I suppose today I want to be a housewife.


Thursday, April 12, 2012

Come to My Garden

When I was very little, I watched this movie over and over, and sometimes it made me weep:

When I as a teensy, tiny bit less little, I loved this book to death:

I spent most of my childhood looking for this door:

 When I was in France this summer I thought I found it. In the sprawling English garden of Fontainebleau Castle, I found a dilapidated door covered in ivy, opening to a magical little garden filled with bits of medieval pillars and things. I was in the middle of having a conniption of the long-forgotten secret that was MINE! ALL MINE! when the gardener came in to look at me strangely, mumble "bonjour" and move the sprinkler.

So, the point is, you should come see this play because the modern world is conspiring against us all and it's impossible to find a real secret garden (trust me, I've scoured Europe), BUT for two hours you can forget all that and watch one of the most beautiful, magical live theatre performances you'll ever see and hear some soul-shaking voices sing some pretty legit/ bad a#$/ glorious music.

Anyway. Monday, Wednesday, Friday through the end of May. You're welcome.

Monday, April 2, 2012


I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

Billy Collins

that's all, folks


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