Meatballs with marinara sauce and melted provolone; Cannoli; Dried figs; Raw clams; Steak fries; Fried fish with mashed potatoes and green beans with a lemon wedge on the side; Crispy focaccia with thinly sliced tomato, seasoned with salt, pepper, oregano, garlic and basil; Fresh spring rolls with peanut sauce; Lobster mac and cheese; Pork fried rice; Hot apple crumb pie with a scoop of vanilla; Popcorn; Eggplant parm panini; Rice and refried beans; Homemade potato salad.
A man in a bookstore whose friend was in the research phase of opening his own bookshop was on the phone with said friend, describing shelf layouts.
The man on the call was middleaged with a foreign accent and wore a ball cap and a stylish sweat jacket. He had a goatee and reeked of cologne.
The man finished his conversation and sat at the cafe table studying something on his mobile device. No words came from his mouth, but his cologne continued being obtrusive.
One young woman sitting nearby liked the fragrance, thinking it smelled like success, and she found the man’s side of the conversation exciting. She wished she could be in on the plans.
At dusk, the clouds had the same pinkish hue as when the sun was coming up that day. Thus, the sky, to her, was indistinguishable.
The room was chilly, and her cat made her think of the two pigeons she saw earlier at the park. The pair rested on the ground near the gazebo, their feathers puffed up against the cold and damp. And now, her cat rested with its paws beneath its chest, a classic feline configuration.
These were the top three books and musical discoveries for me this year. They’re alphabetized and not in order of preference.
- Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer – Inspiring essays on preserving our ecosystem and restoring nature, written from the perspective of Native American tradition and spirituality.
- Essays One by Lydia Davis – A very rewarding and lively 512-page book, generally about the art and craft of writing. Davis discusses her own practices, and she also looks at the techniques of a wonderfully curated group of other writers. In addition, she discusses elements of visual art and photography.
- The Terrible by Yrsa Daley-Ward – A memoir dealing with self-discovery, empowerment and family upbringing, conveyed through prose and poetry, written in a unique voice.
The workweek has passed like a stone in the night. Happy reading & writing, everybody.
Dark liquid, as if derived from near Earth’s core. Bitter, hard-hitting high notes, lingering long after, like an aroma carried by smoke.
The Bird Man is on the move. He’s wearing a sweat jacket and a ball cap because it’s cold. It’s 38 degrees this morning, and typically, such as during summer, the Bird Man will wear only an old white T-shirt that you and I might demote to rag status, as well as jeans that no longer can stay put around his pot belly.
Today the Bird Man looks more dressed up than usual due to his navy blue jacket. It seems to be in fine condition and looks warm.
The Bird Man is removing the rocks from the small plastic Tupperware lining his cement wall like battlements. He is emptying the backwash and refilling the vessels with a cheap plastic pitcher of water.
Sugar-coated almonds at a wedding. You bury the bride in her white dress. While they are nice to look at, you cannot bite on pearls. For instance, I do not need to see an ivory piano on which Mozart played. Or if the piano were situated in a jewelry box, raised up as if on a dais, the otherwise dreamy notes would sound contorted, as if reflected in a funhouse mirror.
Last night I got up during the wee hours to write the following in my journal, using the glare of my iPhone:
falling to pieces —
the oxford dynamo
in a nutshell.
How long does it take for a flower to bloom? Depends on the flower. I sit down and Rachmaninoff plays. I pour an espresso at dusk and crack open my journal in the hopes of writing.
I am currently reading Alan Watts’ Become What You Are, as well as Allen Ginsberg’s Planet News, Yrsa Daley-Ward’s The Terrible, Gertrude Stein’s Tiny Buttons and the latest issue of Rosebud. I am rereading Wayne Koestenbaum’s The Pink Trance Notebooks, which are essentially like witty tweets.
As I read Watts earlier, I thought that I could die as I’ve already lived this, if you wanted to get technical. Tho I don’t mind eating the same cake over and again. Maybe there is just not enough icing to sicken me.