Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Wanderlust: La Jetée

Poetry Wednesday

small insomnia

i wished very much to
take down the sky to pull it
all in from the edges/
crumpled against my chest
and nothing overhead.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd something not-mine that I love:

The Forms of Love
by George Oppen

Parked in the fields 
All night 
So many years ago, 
We saw 
A lake beside us 
When the moon rose. 
I remember 

Leaving that ancient car 
Together. I remember 
Standing in the white grass 
Beside it. We groped 
Our way together 
Downhill in the bright 
Incredible light 

Beginning to wonder 
Whether it could be lake 
Or fog 
We saw, our heads 
Ringing under the stars we walked 
To where it would have wet our feet 
Had it been water

Thursday, February 23, 2012

And I Lost My Heart Over...

This song.

Wanderlust: Going Up

Update: I'm Getting Old

Yes, I know that 22 is actually quite young. I'm still not old enough to rent a car. Or be President. A little more than a year ago, my love of good whiskey was confined to lusty dorm parties, and I had a TERRIBLE  fake ID that I dared not use. So yes, I'm technically quite young.

But I'm getting old. Here's how I know.

The University of Rochester is a very different kind of school compared to Vassar, which is what I tend to use as my measure for what a school ought to be. Unfair, I know, but I've been spoiled. So when nine out of ten students in a class are blatantly texting on bedazzled iPhones in class (phones out on the table top, not even attempting to hide what they're doing under the table) and the professor just sighs and keeps teaching, I get mad. I get realllll mad.

It's not just because I have a five-year-old flip phone with a broken display and an unreliable "3". I love my phone. I'm a technophobe whose fears are generally reserved for complicated phones. So mine is just perfect for me. I'm not jealous of portable internet capability or functioning touch screen "3"s. That's not the issue.

I read a news tidbit a while ago about a Yale professor who took some heat for choosing a classroom without wi-fi/cell service for his art history survey course. AND I DECIDED HE WAS MY HERO.

I just can't stand in-class-texters. Maybe it's a respect thing. Maybe I'm a huge nerd, and I just genuinely like learning, and think everyone else should too. Or maybe I'm just getting old.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Poetry Wednesday

Blue Drop-off (I Am Watching)

I could wait
all night
by the level edge
the drop-off of the blue world

I do not know what comes after

everything that ripples
running suddenly smooth

to water without ships
a body that has suffered no touch
carried nothing

no offering
sound of milk over shale
no place to gather

but a revolving light
a sign I have not seen and will see again
I am watching

Annnnnnnnnnnd something not-mine that I love:

Tree and Sky
by William Carlos Williams

the bare brush of
the half-broken
and already-written-of
tree alone
on its battered

among the shufflings
of the distant
the unmoving

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Wanderlust: I Make Windows

Poetry Wednesday


                   I have considered
what it is to know the
boatman, I have
taken measure of things, followed
a light
a tangent
                           I have
slipped with rain from a bench
and stayed there,
        allowed my
gutted middle
to curl in on itself
and a shell to form            (pink as my insides, less and less unlike them)

(the view was changing, hardening. the bow-lip seized,
                and became different)

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnd something not-mine that I love:

Summer Song
by William Carlos Williams

Wanderer moon
smiling a
faintly ironical smile
at this
brilliant, dew-moistened
summer morning,—
a detached
sleepily indifferent
smile, a
wanderer's smile,—
if I should
buy a shirt
your color and
put on a necktie
where would they carry me?

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Selah Sue, I Do Love You

A new music-maker to love. The buzz is that Amy Winehouse and Adele had a baby, and gave it some tea, and that this is the product, but I'll let you be the judge.

Doesn't it make you feel like such a slouch when people your age whip out stuff like this? Le sigh.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

The Girl With Seven Horses

I love this photo essay oh-so-much. The photographer, Ulrika Kestere tells us the tale:

Once upon a time there was a girl who had 7 invisible horses. People thought she was crazy and that she in fact had 7 imaginary horses, but this was not the case. When autumn came the girl spent a whole day washing all her clothes. She hung them on a string in her garden to let the gentle autumn sun dry them. Out of nowhere, a terrible storm came and its fiercefull winds grabbed a hold of all her clothes and all seven horses (authors note: since they are invisible they obviously didn't weigh much). The girl was devastated and spent all autumn looking for each horse spread around the country, wrapped in her clothes.