Saturday, February 26, 2011

it is worth noting what anders did not remember

This is what he remembered. Heat. A baseball field. Yellow grass, the whirr of insects, himself leaning against a tree as the boys of the neighborhood gather for a pickup game. He looks on as the others argue the relative genius of Mantle and Mays. They have been worrying this subject all summer, and it has become tedious to Anders: an oppression, like the heat.

From "Bullet in the Brain" by Tobias Wolf

Photo by Feaverish on Etsy

Thursday, February 24, 2011

i'm not a starfish or pepper tree

What do you think? I'm not a starfish or a pepper tree. I'm a living, breathing human being. Of course I've been in love. Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Saturday, February 19, 2011

you are my saturday poem

The Saturday Poem at The Guardian

patience

"Take the meat out of the pan and let it rest for about 5 minutes before serving to let the residual heat finish the cooking, and to allow the juices to stabilize. This is essential." The Art of Simple Food

Thursday, February 17, 2011

good, i said, that's what i want too

Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again.

Hell, I said, I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?

Yes. I want to ruin you.

Good, I said. That’s what I want too.

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms, 1929

via books vs cigarettes

Photo from the Geology Teaching Slides of Dr. Arthur Gibbs Sylvester

via an ambitious project collapsing

Friday, February 11, 2011

all art is autobiographical

You exist only in what you do. Frederico Fellini
Photo: Frederico Fellini, Marcello Mastroianni and Sophia Loren
via the ugly earring

Sunday, February 6, 2011

turned out via horse hunting

In 1950, while accepting the Nobel Prize for literature, William Faulkner contended that there is one, and only one, subject worth writing about: the human heart in conflict with itself. Maud Newton on Deborah Eisenberg for NPR. And more from Maud in 2010

Saturday, February 5, 2011

horses

I rolled out of bed and noticed it was late. I raced through my morning ritual, going around the corner to the Moroccan bakery, grabbing a crusty roll, a sprig of fresh mint, some anchovies. I came back and boiled water, stuffed the pot with mint. I poured olive oil in the open roll, rinsed the anchovies and laid them inside, sprinkling in some cayenne pepper. Just Kids (p250), Patti Smith

Thursday, February 3, 2011