I just really haven't had much of import to say lately. I still don't, but in the interest of cheering myself a bit and keeping this blog active, following is a list of things which make me happy. [Note: This list is just "stuff" and does not include important things like friends and family... It's just "stuff."]
1) that shade of orange which you normally see in Shinto shrines
2) mashed potatoes with sauerkraut
3) finding a package of free books on my doorstep
4) an email in my inbox which is an actual letter to me
5) Cincinnati chili 5-ways
6) scarlet and crimson
7) a great song I totally forgot about coming on the jukebox or radio
8) finding a new beer which I really, truly love
9) clean sheets on the bed right after a long, hot bath
10) a long, hot bath
11) sandalwood, patchouli and peppermint scented anything
12) my fantastic collection of sophisticated perfumes
13) getting jewelry as a gift because it is totally useless and makes me feel girly
14) when the sun comes through the clouds in actual streams
15) First Aid Beauty Ultra Repair Cream
16) Angostura bitters
17) my beautiful and well-stocked bar
18) SIGG bottles
19) Nate's Aunt Sue's totally unhealthy fruit salad
20) my collection of collections
21) my Prius Betty Blue
22) peonies
23) Dark Chocolate truffles by Godiva (the ones dusted with cocoa powder)
24) my beautiful and oh-so-fucking-comfy bed
25) MAC lippie
Showing posts with label International Lazy Blogger Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label International Lazy Blogger Day. Show all posts
Monday, March 28, 2011
Friday, November 19, 2010
Cribbed: Ode to baths from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
Passage from The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
The mirror over my bureau seemed slightly warped and much too silver. The face in it looked like the reflection in a ball of dentist’s mercury. I thought of crawling in between the bed sheets and trying to sleep, but that appealed to me about as much as stuffing a dirty, scrawled-over letter into a fresh, clean envelope. I decided to take a hot bath.
There must be quite a few things a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them. Whenever I’m sad I’m going to die, or so nervous I can’t sleep, or in love with somebody I won’t be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: “I’ll go take a hot bath.”
I meditate in the bath. The water needs to be very hot, so hot you can barely stand putting your foot in it. Then you lower yourself, inch by inch, till the water’s up to your neck.
I remember the ceiling over every bathtub I’ve stretched out in. I remember the texture of the ceilings and the cracks and the colors and the damp spots and the light fixtures. I remember the tubs, too: the antique griffin-legged tubs, and the modern coffin-shaped tubs, and the fancy pink marble tubs overlooking indoor lily ponds, and I remember the shapes and sizes of the water taps and the different sorts of soap holders.
I never feel so much myself as when I’m in a hot bath.
I lay in that tub on the seventeenth floor of this hotel for-women-only, high up over the jazz and push of New York, for near onto an hour, and I felt myself growing pure again. I don’t believe in baptism or the waters of Jordan or anything like that, but I guess I feel about a hot bath the way those religious people feel about holy water.
I said to myself: “Doreen is dissolving, Lenny Shepherd is dissolving, Frankie is dissolving, New York is dissolving, they are all dissolving away and none of them matter any more. I don’t know them, I have never known them and I am very pure. All that liquor and those sticky kisses I saw and the dirt that settled on my skin on the way back is turning into something pure.”
The longer I lay there in the clear hot water the purer I felt, and when I stepped out at last and wrapped myself in one of the big, soft white hotel bath towels I felt pure and sweet as a new baby.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you can read that passage and not get me, then you probably never will.--Kayly
The mirror over my bureau seemed slightly warped and much too silver. The face in it looked like the reflection in a ball of dentist’s mercury. I thought of crawling in between the bed sheets and trying to sleep, but that appealed to me about as much as stuffing a dirty, scrawled-over letter into a fresh, clean envelope. I decided to take a hot bath.
There must be quite a few things a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them. Whenever I’m sad I’m going to die, or so nervous I can’t sleep, or in love with somebody I won’t be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: “I’ll go take a hot bath.”
I meditate in the bath. The water needs to be very hot, so hot you can barely stand putting your foot in it. Then you lower yourself, inch by inch, till the water’s up to your neck.
I remember the ceiling over every bathtub I’ve stretched out in. I remember the texture of the ceilings and the cracks and the colors and the damp spots and the light fixtures. I remember the tubs, too: the antique griffin-legged tubs, and the modern coffin-shaped tubs, and the fancy pink marble tubs overlooking indoor lily ponds, and I remember the shapes and sizes of the water taps and the different sorts of soap holders.
I never feel so much myself as when I’m in a hot bath.
I lay in that tub on the seventeenth floor of this hotel for-women-only, high up over the jazz and push of New York, for near onto an hour, and I felt myself growing pure again. I don’t believe in baptism or the waters of Jordan or anything like that, but I guess I feel about a hot bath the way those religious people feel about holy water.
I said to myself: “Doreen is dissolving, Lenny Shepherd is dissolving, Frankie is dissolving, New York is dissolving, they are all dissolving away and none of them matter any more. I don’t know them, I have never known them and I am very pure. All that liquor and those sticky kisses I saw and the dirt that settled on my skin on the way back is turning into something pure.”
The longer I lay there in the clear hot water the purer I felt, and when I stepped out at last and wrapped myself in one of the big, soft white hotel bath towels I felt pure and sweet as a new baby.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you can read that passage and not get me, then you probably never will.--Kayly
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
I'll be honest.
Things I don't like:
- People who call themselves artists who never create anything.
- The use of words like "exquisite" and "gambolling" in casual conversation. Unless I say them.
- People who don't recognize that there is an art to cussing and artists should be left alone to create.
- The use of phrases like "harsh beauty" in Facebook comments or tweets. But only if written in a very self -aware "aren't I a super wunnerful writer" sort of way.
- The rest of the artichoke.
- Early '80s furniture in almost any style.
- When people drum their fingernails.
- People who get food or other undesirable stains on library books.
- When someone says they don't like pickles but don't specify what sort of thing has been pickled and in what particular way.
- Self-sealing envelopes. Because where's the fun in that?
Things I like:
- Hotels with a variety of pillows.
- Cotton
- Harvard beets
- Cussing
- The smell of an old paperback that hasn't been opened in years.
- Clear, waterproof band-aids.
- Drumming my fingernails.
- Paperclips
- The harsh beauty of people exquisitely gambolling.
- Finally getting that itch in me ear scratched but good.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Speed Round
Smartfood Popcorn is so good that I tend to forget how bad popcorn is for my teeth and gums and digestive system until it is much, much too late.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Terry Jones's church did not burn the Quran on Saturday. But somewhere some people did. Luckily, it did not receive the same media attention the whole Jones debacle did, because giving those zealots attention is giving them exactly what they want.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andy Rooney Breakdown:
Why do companies send you paper catalogs when you order something from their website?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don't tell my husband I am admitting this, but I am finally aware that I am a magazine hoarder. Well, not in the technical sense of the term, because eventually, once they've been read, they will be recycled. I have such a love for "traditional media" that I accept all free and super discounted subscriptions which come my way. But since I am also a book hoarder--well, technically, book "saver"-- and a library addict--um, lover--it makes it quite difficult to keep up with all of my reading. Okay, wait. I'm not a hoarder at all. I'm just slow. Yeah, I'm going to go with that for now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Am I crazy, or does Raising Hope look kind of good? I love Shannon Woodward from the dearly departed The Riches, so I'll at least give the pilot a spin. And much, much love for Martha Plimpton and Cloris Leachman, of course. (I refuse to hotlink them. If you don't know who they are, you might be beyond the help of a hotlink.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Colbert's Dr. Strangelove turn tonight was beautiful. Try to catch the reruns tomorrow if you missed it tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DING! Time's up!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
UPDATE: I noticed I forgot to make "Jones" possessive, so I actually had to go look up the singular possessive form of Jones. If that does not make me feel like a dingbat, I do not know what would.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Terry Jones's church did not burn the Quran on Saturday. But somewhere some people did. Luckily, it did not receive the same media attention the whole Jones debacle did, because giving those zealots attention is giving them exactly what they want.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andy Rooney Breakdown:
Why do companies send you paper catalogs when you order something from their website?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don't tell my husband I am admitting this, but I am finally aware that I am a magazine hoarder. Well, not in the technical sense of the term, because eventually, once they've been read, they will be recycled. I have such a love for "traditional media" that I accept all free and super discounted subscriptions which come my way. But since I am also a book hoarder--well, technically, book "saver"-- and a library addict--um, lover--it makes it quite difficult to keep up with all of my reading. Okay, wait. I'm not a hoarder at all. I'm just slow. Yeah, I'm going to go with that for now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Am I crazy, or does Raising Hope look kind of good? I love Shannon Woodward from the dearly departed The Riches, so I'll at least give the pilot a spin. And much, much love for Martha Plimpton and Cloris Leachman, of course. (I refuse to hotlink them. If you don't know who they are, you might be beyond the help of a hotlink.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Colbert's Dr. Strangelove turn tonight was beautiful. Try to catch the reruns tomorrow if you missed it tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DING! Time's up!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
UPDATE: I noticed I forgot to make "Jones" possessive, so I actually had to go look up the singular possessive form of Jones. If that does not make me feel like a dingbat, I do not know what would.
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
Words I Say Regarding Stuff: An Introduction
You may notice that about twice a year for the past couple of years I seem to decide to try to make this blogging thing work. This is one of those times again. I may not always have something interesting to say, but I want to try to post something--anything--every day. We'll see how this goes.
It does bother me that I can share some witty, deep, or important things on Facebook which, essentially, disappear after a week or so. I don't have an archive. I mean, I know that the words are floating around out there in cyberland forevermore, but I can't easily access it. So that is what brings me back to this page every once in a while.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One pet peeve I have about some of the blogs I've been reading lately is that they no longer seem to follow that format of backwards chronology from the top of the page to the bottom and then you click "older posts." I rather liked that. I liked seeing the posts in some kind of order and feeling the accomplishment of completing the reading of a page. I guess because I'm a book girl, I like my information in a linear format like that. But many blogs are now using that--um--"thing" where there is one post (the most recent) on the homepage and then six to twelve blocks at the bottom of the page to choose from for further reading. That's too difficult. I don't want to read a Choose Your Own Adventure blog. I want a narrative of some kind. Granted my narrative, when read in said linear format may make a reader wonder whether I have schizophrenia or ADD or some other mental disorder which makes it difficult for me to stay on topic. Yes, I do have mental illness, but really I'm just interested in myriad, disparate topics. I apologize in advance to any new readers for the bursts of flotsam and jetsam. If you don't like it, don't read it. I'm totally cool with that. Also, I do not claim to be a writer or an artist. So if you're looking for that, you might want to go elsewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I rather like the meta element of this post. Blogging about blogging.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just spell-checked this and Blogger doesn't recognize the word Facebook. Weird.
It does bother me that I can share some witty, deep, or important things on Facebook which, essentially, disappear after a week or so. I don't have an archive. I mean, I know that the words are floating around out there in cyberland forevermore, but I can't easily access it. So that is what brings me back to this page every once in a while.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One pet peeve I have about some of the blogs I've been reading lately is that they no longer seem to follow that format of backwards chronology from the top of the page to the bottom and then you click "older posts." I rather liked that. I liked seeing the posts in some kind of order and feeling the accomplishment of completing the reading of a page. I guess because I'm a book girl, I like my information in a linear format like that. But many blogs are now using that--um--"thing" where there is one post (the most recent) on the homepage and then six to twelve blocks at the bottom of the page to choose from for further reading. That's too difficult. I don't want to read a Choose Your Own Adventure blog. I want a narrative of some kind. Granted my narrative, when read in said linear format may make a reader wonder whether I have schizophrenia or ADD or some other mental disorder which makes it difficult for me to stay on topic. Yes, I do have mental illness, but really I'm just interested in myriad, disparate topics. I apologize in advance to any new readers for the bursts of flotsam and jetsam. If you don't like it, don't read it. I'm totally cool with that. Also, I do not claim to be a writer or an artist. So if you're looking for that, you might want to go elsewhere.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I rather like the meta element of this post. Blogging about blogging.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just spell-checked this and Blogger doesn't recognize the word Facebook. Weird.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Halloween Blahg-apalooza Pt. 8 "Obama News"
- Declaration of Support by over 300 Former Diplomats
- Former GOP senator, vet backs Obama
- Daughter of slave votes for Obama 109-year-old Bastrop woman casts her vote by mail.
Halloween Blahg-apalooza Pt. 7 "McCain News"
- McCain's Private Visit With Chilean Dictator Pinochet Revealed For First Time
- News Orgs Investigate Possibly Fatal McCain '64 Car Crash
- Republicans hire mercenaries for ground war against Barack Obama (Psst, but they're voting for Obama, lol!)
- What Is the True Story of McCain’s Wartime Experience? by Mary Hershberger (I highly recommend the Rolling Stone article to which she refers and which I posted earlier.)
- Boy shocked after man powers up campaign sign
Halloween Blahg-apalooza Pt. 5 "'Regular' Joes"
Have you stopped beating your wife?
Thanks, Joe! Keep up the good work!!
Snickersnickersnortsnort:
Thanks, Joe! Keep up the good work!!
Snickersnickersnortsnort:
- Joe the Absentee leaves McCain fumbling in Ohio (The video is yummy as McCain uses "dick fingers" which amuse me much more than others, I guess. In fact I think The “Blog” of “Unnecessary” Quotation Marks should publish a McCain specail bulletin, lol.)
Via Shakesville: a great photo essay:
From Joe.My.God.:
Don't Touch 6 Train, Thursday, 7pm A five year-old boy is swinging from the
grab pole in the middle of the train. Mom: Don't touch the pole. It has germs on
it. Kid: You say that about everything. Mom: Everything has germs. Don't touch
anything. Kid: What about people? Mom: People have the most germs. Don't touch
people. Kid: Fine. I won't touch you either. Mom: I'm used to that. Ask your
father.
Halloween Blahg-apalooza Pt. 3 "Palin Junk" (some old, some new, collected here, just for you)
Halloween Blahg-apalooza Pt. 2 "The YouTubes" (with apologies to those behind an un-fun firewall)
The election humor of some very talented people:
(Also check out her Opera for Obama: Catty Palin Twins: Your Worst Nightmare.)
...and my personal favorite for Meme of the Day:
(Also check out her Opera for Obama: Catty Palin Twins: Your Worst Nightmare.)
...and my personal favorite for Meme of the Day:
Halloween Blahg-apalooza Pt. 1 "Halloween Stories"
Happy Halloween!!!
For Halloween I thought I'd give you some "Bat News":
...and "Spooky Cell Phones":
...and mysterious "Legoman":
...and some super scary right-wing Xian whackjobs (no, not Palin)
...and some REALLY scary Tales from the Crypt:
For Halloween I thought I'd give you some "Bat News":
- Flying Fox Bats Are Off The Menu
Blood-Sucking Vampire Bats Sing Duets - Giant bat makes comeback in Tanzania
- Nasty fungus may be killing thousands of bats
- Nature Notes: pipistrelle bats
- Project aims to keep bats under Ore. bridges
- Army creates new homes for bats
...and "Spooky Cell Phones":
...and mysterious "Legoman":
...and some super scary right-wing Xian whackjobs (no, not Palin)
...and some REALLY scary Tales from the Crypt:
Friday, September 19, 2008
Random, Incoherent & Stolen Material
[Tried to post this MUCH earlier, but Blogger was screwed up for quite some time today.]
Today is International Lazy Blogger Day. (A randomly recurring holiday I just invented. Pass it on.)
Thanks to Ethan for passing on the tidbit re: Old Man Yells at Cloud. Apparently McCain thinks Spain is neither an ally nor a part of Europe.
Avast! Today, matey, is also International Talk Like a Pirate Day, arrrr. Ye best be gettin' yer yaps a’movin’.
I knew it!! They done gone and switched it up on us. Now she’s out there campaignin’ and talkin’, guys and gals, about bein’ the POTUS. Now she won’t have ANY time for huntin’ wolves from heli-cop-ters and choppin’ their legs off. She won’t have ANY time for killin’ and field-dressin’ moose. (What will she eat??) And she won’t have any time for raisin’ her daughter’s baby.
Oprah picked her new book. The book is a hefty “tome” (these are finger quotes, not unnecessary quotes): The Story of Edgar Sawtelle: A Novel . Proving my thesis that she picks books based on their pretentiousness rather than actual readability or literary worth. (Not that they don’t sometimes overlap. Accidentally, I’m sure.) This new pick was slow, overly-wrought, and ultimately a bore for me and many other readers at my library. I guess it’s good she has people reading, but how many of them actually read the book, do you think? I bet many of them carry the fat, pretentious books around like trophies for the course of the reading period, saying vague things about the book when asked how they like it.
Good news (almost) for parents of girl teens afraid of teen pregnancy. Now, if they would start protecting themselves against disease, and goddammit, ya just know the poor girls are mostly on the giving end of the whole oral thing. Hopefully their girlfriends and they, themselves, are taking care of their own needs.
Obama’s is pulling ahead again, even with white women and independents, and getting better.
HITLER CAT!!!???!!! ROTFLMAO!
Another fun Palin picture from Margaret Cho’s blog. Don’t know if it’s real or not. Don’t care.
Today is International Lazy Blogger Day. (A randomly recurring holiday I just invented. Pass it on.)
Thanks to Ethan for passing on the tidbit re: Old Man Yells at Cloud. Apparently McCain thinks Spain is neither an ally nor a part of Europe.
Avast! Today, matey, is also International Talk Like a Pirate Day, arrrr. Ye best be gettin' yer yaps a’movin’.
I knew it!! They done gone and switched it up on us. Now she’s out there campaignin’ and talkin’, guys and gals, about bein’ the POTUS. Now she won’t have ANY time for huntin’ wolves from heli-cop-ters and choppin’ their legs off. She won’t have ANY time for killin’ and field-dressin’ moose. (What will she eat??) And she won’t have any time for raisin’ her daughter’s baby.
Oprah picked her new book. The book is a hefty “tome” (these are finger quotes, not unnecessary quotes): The Story of Edgar Sawtelle: A Novel . Proving my thesis that she picks books based on their pretentiousness rather than actual readability or literary worth. (Not that they don’t sometimes overlap. Accidentally, I’m sure.) This new pick was slow, overly-wrought, and ultimately a bore for me and many other readers at my library. I guess it’s good she has people reading, but how many of them actually read the book, do you think? I bet many of them carry the fat, pretentious books around like trophies for the course of the reading period, saying vague things about the book when asked how they like it.
Good news (almost) for parents of girl teens afraid of teen pregnancy. Now, if they would start protecting themselves against disease, and goddammit, ya just know the poor girls are mostly on the giving end of the whole oral thing. Hopefully their girlfriends and they, themselves, are taking care of their own needs.
Obama’s is pulling ahead again, even with white women and independents, and getting better.
HITLER CAT!!!???!!! ROTFLMAO!
Another fun Palin picture from Margaret Cho’s blog. Don’t know if it’s real or not. Don’t care.
Monday, the 22nd, is the Autumnal Equinox at 11:44 EDT. This is a great time to open all your windows, smudge, light a candle for your seasonal goals, needs and wants and meditating/praying for the same. If you have energy to do so, Equinox is a good day for a Big Clean. I'll skip that part this year, again.
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