Here and There

Thursday, August 31, 2006

from My Antonia

"All those fall afternoons were the same, but I never got used to them. As far as we could see, the miles of copper-red grass were drenched in sunlight that was stronger and fiercer than at any other time of day. The blond cornfields were red gold, the haystacks turned rosy and threw long shadows. The whole prairie was like the bush that burned with fire and was not consumed. That hour always had the exultation of victory, of triumphant ending, like a hero's death--heroes who died young and gloriously. It was a sudden transfiguration, a lifting-up of day."

Same idea, much more lovely. Thanks Willa.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Last Dog Days

Summer is almost over. So almost over. So today I'm catching up on things, and trying to leave things at home in a somewhat presentable state when I go off to work soon. Kind of like tying up the loose strings, writing the last letters, throwing away empty shampoo bottles; the people who may sift through my things when I am gone won't think I am a sloppy pig. Yes, the end of summer is kind of like dying. "A small death" I would write if it didn't have another meaning. And the end of summer is nothing like the other meaning.

But there is a certain kind of light I noticed last night, locking up at Finn Hall and walking into the house. Lingering and golden. Long shadows, and that veiling light and the leaves already smelling dry and aging. All mean summer is over. That is not to say hotter days are not to come. They'll come. And that is not to say that there is not one more long weekend coming and popsicles will still taste good. But there is a crunch to it. Apples and pumpkins and leaves all over the sidewalk and a sooner chill in the evening. All of that is close. So I'm cleaning house, getting ready.

Oh, but they use this feeling to trick you at the mall you know. The beautiful sweaters, and you're in the mood. But you won't be able to wear it till after Thanksgiving!

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

The real Little Gidding

My blog name is taken from a poem by TS Eliot. I would like to show you the last part of that poem, it being the first part of the poem I ever saw. Sent to me by my inspirational penpal cr!

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always—
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flame are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006


Anne of Green Gables
Anne of Green Gables The Sequel
I Love Lucy Season 5 Disc One
Curb Your Enthusiasm Season 5 Disc 2
Strangers With Candy Season 2 Disc 3
We're Not Married

Coffee and Peanut Butter and Jelly Toast

New Haircut

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

The Princess Peer

There is a look that every Disney princess has at one point during their movies. From Cinderella to Mulan. I am especially imagining Belle, looking at the Beast, as if just realizing who he is.

In the animation, the eyes squint, and there is a little circle drawn in the inside corner of each eye, near the nose. It is a distinct look and Disney Princesses do it.

They do it when they are curious about a life they have only dreamt of before, as in Ariel's peer at Eric's ship. Or when they are faced with the Beast and because they are wholly good and moral as all women are supposed to be, imagine "there's something sweet and almost kind" there.

And I admit, I have done the Princess Peer in the mirror at various moments throughout my young life. I imagined looking this way was mature, adult, wise. But it's a little stupid.

Monday, August 14, 2006

A Single Pea

This morning at Berkeley Bowl, the lines were crazy and people were kind of pushing around, you know how it can be. A woman in line behind me said "These carts should have horns or something." I thought that was ridiculous. If everyone were kind and patient, it wouldn't feel so oppressive there. But she wanted to further the pushiness, and make it dangerous!

Then I noticed, in between the registers ahead of me, a single pea. Just sitting on the ground. Probably, some kid was allowed to eat peas out of the pod before paying for them...and this pea found itself on the ground. I kept waiting for the elephants around me to stomp on it. But it just sat there. Carts and feet all came near it, over it, all around it; but it just sat. I know that pea is smooshed now, even if people at Berkeley Bowl were terribly careful all the time, it would still get smooshed. But I liked looking at that pea.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

In honor of our anniversary, I recall this poem...

My Love

It falleth like a stick.
It lieth like air.
It is wonderment and bewilderment,
to test true.

It is no thing, but of two,
equal: as the mind turns to it,
it doubleth,
as one alone.

Where it is, there is
everywhere, separate,
yet few--as dew
to night is.

-Robert Creeley

Friday, August 04, 2006

This morning I went to the Flower Mart earlier than I had ever been before. We got there at 4am. Technically, it opens at 2am on MWF, but I couldn't imagine going at 2am. I think one has to ease into that. But, after what I saw this morning, I will definitely be coming this early every time. It was outrageous how many more flowers, better flowers, stranger flowers there were! Garden roses, dahlias in every shape and color. Summer flowers at their best, everywhere. Crazy looking protea in bright yellow, pink and green. Kind of like little pinatas or something. I wish that I could wander, but alas, I had to get what I needed and go. Next time, I will wander. My hands smell like newspaper and twine. Because one of the dominant smells when working with flowers is newspaper. It is somehow more fragrant than the blooms.