Life Updates

Laser tag! Dirty board games! Fire pit! Copious amounts of liquor! All of these things made Christmas with my family in Wadesboro, North Carolina, oodles and oodles of fun. I brought Moody home with me this year, and he managed to take all of the zaniness in stride (although, as it turns out, he is not very good at laser tag).

To top it all off, I received the very good news that an essay I wrote about Chiharu Shiota (about whom I've blogged before) will be published in a Casa Asia book to coincide with the end of the artist’s first solo exhibition in Barcelona! I can’t wait to get my hands on it in March. More updates on this to come!

Overall, this winter break has been extremely restorative, and there are more good things coming up soon. In February, I’ll be returning to NYC for the first time since I interned for Ralph Lauren back in 2010, and I can’t wait to have adventures in my favorite city. There will definitely be reunions with a few beloved Vassar pals, and plenty of arty goodness at the CAA conference. As soon as I get back to Rochester, Moody and I will be goofing off at a Passion Pit concert, and celebrating our second (belated) Valentine’s Day together. So much good!

A Little Lacuna

All the Little Houses will be taking a brief hiatus for the next couple of weeks while I get my shit together for year two (!!!) of PhD-ing. In the meantime, you can visit my tumblr where, inevitably, I will be posting pretty pictures and delicious music.

See you soon!

All The Little Houses Now Has A Tumblr!

That's right kiddies. You can now weed out all of my art/music/life blather by simply visiting http://allthelittlehouses.tumblr.com/ for all of your image needs. Don't worry. If you like it all lumped together, I'll still do Wanderlust posts here on blogger once in a while.

Enjoy. Alternatively, feel free to hate it.

Poetry Wednesday

The Underpass

We

have come to beams,

boosted each other up,

wedged our bodies up and beneath the road

like nests

that love their BlueEggBrownBird babies more

than ever we’ve  loved a thing

kept safe in the warm rounded pit

of our bellies.

I do not see a motherBird.

Annnnnnnd, something not-mine that I love:

I Remember
By Anne Sexton

By the first of August
the invisible beetles began
to snore and the grass was
as tough as hemp and was
no color—no more than
the sand was a color and
we had worn our bare feet
bare since the twentieth
of June and there were times
we forgot to wind up your
alarm clock and some nights
we took our gin warm and neat
from old jelly glasses while
the sun blew out of sight
like a red picture hat and
one day I tied my hair back
with a ribbon and you said
that I looked almost like
a puritan lady and what
I remember best is that
the door to your room was
the door to mine.


Alsoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
This is my 100th post yo. Celebrate.