It’s too nice a day to read a novel set in England.
We’re within inches of the perfect distance from the sun,
the sky is blueberries and cream,
and the wind is as warm as air from a tire.
Even the headstones in the graveyard
Seem to stand up and say “Hello! My name is…”
It’s enough to be sitting here on my porch,
thinking about Kermit Roosevelt,
following the course of an ant,
or walking out into the yard with a cordless phone
to find out she is going to be there tonight
On a day like today, what looks like bad news in the distance
turns out to be something on my contact, carports and white
courtesy phones are spontaneously reappreciated
and random “okay”s ring through the backyards.
This morning I discovered the red tints in cola
when I held a glass of it up to the light
and found an expensive flashlight in the pocket of a winter coat
I was packing away for summer.
It all reminds me of that moment when you take off your sunglasses
after a long drive and realize it’s earlier
and lighter out than you had accounted for.
You know what I’m talking about,
and that’s the kind of fellowship that’s taking place in town, out in
the public spaces. You won’t overhear anyone using the words
“dramaturgy” or “state inspection today. We’re too busy getting along.
It occurs to me that the laws are in the regions and the regions are
in the laws, and it feels good to say this, something that I’m almost
sure is true, outside under the sun.
Then to say it again, around friends, in the resonant voice of a
nineteenth-century senator, just for a lark.
There’s a shy looking fellow on the courthouse steps, holding up a
placard that says “But, I kinda liked Reagan.” His head turns slowly
as a beautiful girl walks by, holding a refrigerated bottle up against
her flushed cheek.
She smiles at me and I allow myself to imagine her walking into
town to buy lotion at a brick pharmacy.
When she gets home she’ll apply it with great lingering care before
moving into her parlor to play 78 records and drink gin-and-tonics
beside her homemade altar to James Madison.
In a town of this size, it’s certainly possible that I’ll be invited over
one night.
In fact I’ll bet you something.
Somewhere in the future I am remembering today. I’ll bet you
I’m remembering how I walked into the park at five thirty,
my favorite time of day, and how I found two cold pitchers
of just poured beer, sitting there on the bench.
I am remembering how my friend Chip showed up
with a catcher’s mask hanging from his belt and how I said
great to see you, sit down, have a beer, how are you,
and how he turned to me with the sunset reflecting off his contacts
and said, wonderful, how are you.
Set in Stone
“A poster at the bus stop read “Timing is everything!” and he thought there was something to that.”
— Buenos Aires
Vampire Weekend - Step
And punks who would laugh when they saw us together / Well, they didn’t know how to dress for the weather / I can still see them there huddled on Astor / Snow falling slow to the sound of the master
| Me: | Kevin! |
| Kevin: | Chirrrrp? |
| Me: | Nothin' |
| Me: | I love you |
Stuck in my head
I have a problem
Bleeding for you this Valentines Day.
ALTERNATE JOKE:
You know how I know I have a bike again? Cause I’m covered in open wounds!
This is my favorite one so far
![theatlantic:
When Conservatives Try to Talk About Rap
Conservatives who talk that way don’t just forfeit the chance to influence the social norms surrounding the genre. They reinforce the perception that their views are shaped by little more than cartoonish stereotypes. One needn’t dig deep into obscure rap albums to find “human feeling”. Multi-platinum singles will do. Try “December 4th” by Jay Z or “Stan” by Eminem. All across America, kids are listening to rap lyrics that resonate with them more than anything else in their lives, capturing the way they feel about their absent father or the bliss of a long afternoon spent in the park with friends or how parenthood changed their perspective or the effect incarceration has on their community, or just about any other emotional situation people encounter. What do they think when a man capable of meticulously analyzing Hammerstein expends so little effort grappling with the genre that he doesn’t even grant that it has human feeling? Read more. [Image: Flickr]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/158681f4a20837aabaa5ef1493d96f18/tumblr_mhhzixMWxd1qcokc4o1_500.png)
When Conservatives Try to Talk About Rap
Conservatives who talk that way don’t just forfeit the chance to influence the social norms surrounding the genre. They reinforce the perception that their views are shaped by little more than cartoonish stereotypes. One needn’t dig deep into obscure rap albums to find “human feeling”. Multi-platinum singles will do. Try “December 4th” by Jay Z or “Stan” by Eminem. All across America, kids are listening to rap lyrics that resonate with them more than anything else in their lives, capturing the way they feel about their absent father or the bliss of a long afternoon spent in the park with friends or how parenthood changed their perspective or the effect incarceration has on their community, or just about any other emotional situation people encounter. What do they think when a man capable of meticulously analyzing Hammerstein expends so little effort grappling with the genre that he doesn’t even grant that it has human feeling?
Read more. [Image: Flickr]
I have a recurring dream where my brother knocks up Ms. Piggy and they have muppet babies. I do not have a brother. I do not know what any of this means.
I got the Matchbox Blues
I just recently started using my iPad to take notes in class (specifically the app Penultimate), and this makes uploading them extremely easy. Since 95% of my notes aren’t notes at all, but instead random doodles and cursive practice, I thought I’d share them with Tumblr.
So if you have any kind of love for random, stupid doodles, check it out.
