Sonata Op. 6 - Samuel Barber

I've been thinking about Heinz a lot lately. He died a year ago this week after a prolonged battle with multiple myeloma.

This time of year brings lots of difficult anniversaries, actually, but today I am focusing on Heinz and how wonderful he was.

"When I walk into the room and there is a monkey on my shoulder, you say, "Heinz, there is a monkey on your shoulder!" What does he look like? What is he wearing? Is he dressed like me? Do you dress your type to match your idea? Do they match? Or is the monkey wearing one thing and I am wearing another? Design for the monkey." -Heinz

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart -- Wilco

This Christmas, I got a really amazing gift. Seriously. Top of the charts.

Bryan and I have reconnected again and it couldn't have come at a better time. He reminds me of the person that I actually am when I give myself some room to be me. And he reminds me of what I need. He helps me refocus, reprioritize, and, most importantly, he reminds me that it's crazy fun to laugh at myself. That, and he has the ability to call me on my shit that no one else has mastered quite as well.

This Christmas, I got my best friend back. I am an incredibly lucky girl.

Empty Bottle (Ingrid Michaelson)

I am sick.

I mean... sick.

Like, I'm wishing the CVS delivered-don't want to leave my bed-can't function-everything hurts- sick.

And I am completely alone. No meds or chicken soup or orange juice for me.

I think today I really care. Tomorrow maybe less so, but at the moment, seriously, I want to be taken care of. 

How anti-feminist. Sarah Palin would be proud.

She's a Jar (Wilco)

My excellent friend David sent this poem to me. Not only am I head over heels in love with it, but it couldn't have been shown to me at a better time.

One Train May Hide Another (Sign at a railroad crossing in Kenya)

In a poem, one line may hide another line, As at a crossing, one train may hide another train. That is, if you are waiting to cross The tracks, wait to do it for one moment at Least after the first train is gone. And so when you read Wait until you have read the next line-- Then it is safe to go on reading. In a family one sister may conceal another, So, when you are courting, it's best to have them all in view Otherwise in coming to find one you may love another. One father or one brother may hide the man, If you are a woman, whom you have been waiting to love. So always standing in front of something the other As words stand in front of objects, feelings, and ideas. One wish may hide another. And one person's reputation may hide The reputation of another. One dog may conceal another On a lawn, so if you escape the first one you're not necessarily safe; One lilac may hide another and then a lot of lilacs and on the Appia Antica one tomb May hide a number of other tombs. In love, one reproach may hide another, One small complaint may hide a great one. One injustice may hide another--one colonial may hide another, One blaring red uniform another, and another, a whole column. One bath may hide another bath As when, after bathing, one walks out into the rain. One idea may hide another: Life is simple Hide Life is incredibly complex, as in the prose of Gertrude Stein One sentence hides another and is another as well. And in the laboratory One invention may hide another invention, One evening may hide another, one shadow, a nest of shadows. One dark red, or one blue, or one purple--this is a painting By someone after Matisse. One waits at the tracks until they pass, These hidden doubles or, sometimes, likenesses. One identical twin May hide the other. And there may be even more in there! The obstetrician Gazes at the Valley of the Var. We used to live there, my wife and I, but One life hid another life. And now she is gone and I am here. A vivacious mother hides a gawky daughter. The daughter hides Her own vivacious daughter in turn. They are in A railway station and the daughter is holding a bag Bigger than her mother's bag and successfully hides it. In offering to pick up the daughter's bag one finds oneself confronted by the mother's And has to carry that one, too. So one hitchhiker May deliberately hide another and one cup of coffee Another, too, until one is over-excited. One love may hide another love or the same love As when "I love you" suddenly rings false and one discovers The better love lingering behind, as when "I'm full of doubts" Hides "I'm certain about something and it is that" And one dream may hide another as is well known, always, too. In the Garden of Eden Adam and Eve may hide the real Adam and Eve. Jerusalem may hide another Jerusalem. When you come to something, stop to let it pass So you can see what else is there. At home, no matter where, Internal tracks pose dangers, too: one memory Certainly hides another, that being what memory is all about, The eternal reverse succession of contemplated entities. Reading A Sentimental Journey look around When you have finished, for Tristram Shandy, to see If it is standing there, it should be, stronger And more profound and theretofore hidden as Santa Maria Maggiore May be hidden by similar churches inside Rome. One sidewalk May hide another, as when you're asleep there, and One song hide another song; a pounding upstairs Hide the beating of drums. One friend may hide another, you sit at the foot of a tree With one and when you get up to leave there is another Whom you'd have preferred to talk to all along. One teacher, One doctor, one ecstasy, one illness, one woman, one man May hide another. Pause to let the first one pass. You think, Now it is safe to cross and you are hit by the next one. It can be important To have waited at least a moment to see what was already there. Kenneth Koch

Bedstuy Parade (Mos Def)

Playing catch up right now.

This weekend I headed to Milford PA/New York City for Becky's wedding shower and to see a play in the city (Boeing and Boeing). The play was hilarious, the trip was lovely.

Also lovely was last night's mini trip into MY favorite city (that would be DC, folks). I met Jen at the Dupont metro. We walked over to Mr. Yogato for the city's best frozen yogurt (Thanks, David V. for the introduction) with yummy fresh fruit. We took a walk, sat in a part, chatted, and then hit up some of my favorite Dupont shops (Kramers, Tabletop, Bedazzled, Second Story Books). At Second Story, I found an original copy of the Washburn College Bible (click on the bible for thumbnails) in amazing shape (with the cover sleeve) for 15 bucks. Amazing shape, really. Designed by Bradbury Thompson (on my list of favorite designers), this bible is said to be “the most thorough typographic reassessment of the Bible since Gutenberg.” He made the Bible legible by using a large 10" x 14" page and set the words in a large but graceful typeface for readability. Thompson arranged the text in phrases and separated them where the reader would naturally hesitate or stop. He also assembled a world-class team of collaborators: National Gallery of Art director, J. Carter Brown, who selected the accompanying fine-art masterpieces, and internationally esteemed Yale University professor of painting, Joseph Albers, who designed the frontispieces to the three volumes. (I adore Albers too, so that's a bonus).

My allergies are starting to act up. That means the seasons have officially changed.

Should I Stay or Should I Go (The Clash)

I'm
Frustrated.
Sad.
Exhausted.
Overwhelmed.
and, believe it or not,
Hopeful.


I kind of feel like crying and curling up in a quilt listening to Lilith Fair music until things blow over. It's easier to withdraw and hibernate than figure things out and be in the world. But, well, there's that whole saying that a ship in the harbor but that's not what they're built for. Or something like that.

Yeeeeeeah.

Merry Happy (Kate Nash)

It's been an odd week.

Another car incident took place--blowing out a tire in dramatic style on 395. This was followed by getting rather sick. Not related in any other way than that lately things pile up. My Karmically Comical. Really. Last night I asked my mom if the Catholic church performs exorcisms on vehicles. The jury's still out.

Truthfully, this run of bad luck is starting to get to me a bit. I feel a little overwhelmed and alone at certain moments. I know that I can handle everything by myself, it's just that doing so feels kind of exhausting lately. I'm having a hard time settling into a life rhythm for lack of a better term when ridiculous things keep happening. I know that I can't control everything and all I can do is not let this karmic run get to me, but, quite frankly, I'm starting to take it personally.

I'm wondering what kind of lesson I'm supposed to be learning from this. Seriously.

Giving Up (Ingrid Michaelson)

I absolutely adore today's song. It's beautiful and perfect and touching and real.

And me.

Today I'm going to bike down to Old Town for the Alexandria Arts Festival. I think. Maybe. Just to get out for a bit, now having mostly caught up on things like sleep and, well, sleep. I'd over-booked life this week. Hopefully I'll be able to catch Burn After Reading tonight; Bill sent me a note yesterday to say that I'd completely love it.

Last night I checked out the Washington Improv's POTUS Among Us with Chuck. I've seen better and I've seen worse. It was a nice evening; relaxed dinner at Busboys and Poets, walking around U Street, and then the show.

You Won't Be Able to Be Sad (Break and Repair Method)

I called my brother last night to find out if he got his birthday card/gift (silly post office loses things). Apparently turning to the ripe old age of 20 makes him wise.

Dave: Anything else new?

Me: Not really.

Dave: That's the only reason you called?

Me: Well, that and because you're one of the few boys I like talking to right now.

Dave: There are lots of boys. Some of them are lame. Okay, lots of them are. But there are some that aren't.

Me: Yeah?

Dave: Yeah.

Me: Sometimes it doesn't totally seem that way.

Dave: Trust me, I know. There are a lot of lame people in the world. Tons of 'em.

And then we both laughed.

End scene.

It's Alright (Dar Williams)

Another lovely DC evening.

I guess I'm on a roll.

It's getting late and I still have some work to do before bed, but I just had to gush about the Richard Avedon exhibition at the Corcoran Gallery. Tonight I went to the Member Preview of Richard Avedon: Portraits of Power. It was really really really well done. So much so that I bought the exhibit catalogue and I can't think of the last time that I've done that.

Basically, I'm falling in love with his work all over again.

More on this to come.

Club Thing (Yoav)

Last night was one of those perfect DC nights that reminds me why I love my city and, while it has its ridiculous head-scratching, frustrating moments and icky uncomfortable patches, why I love my life.

It started with Junot Diaz reading from his Pulitzer Prize winning book (The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao) at Politics and Prose. He was funny and interesting; genuine and deep. I really want to read more of his work. I did pick up a book and have it signed for my brother, who has now decided to make literature his work/focus. As is typical with those readings, the Q&A really was the highlight. The place was packed. Which is reason enough to smile.

Then my friend David met me at Comet Ping Pong to buy me a beer to celebrate my promotion, which was a really sweet thing of him to do. Especially because it was coupled with an introduction to the weird male high-five handshake combo of congratulations. Comet is a great little place--it's just down the block from P&P, they serve creative pizza and decent beer. The tables inside are old ping pong tables and there are actual ping pong tables for use in the back. We sat outside (anyplace with outdoor seating wins major kudos in my book), had some beer, split a pizza, had a great conversation (which is typical for evening's spent with David). We played some ping pong as well before the place closed, which, I have to say, was kind of a blast, even if neither of us are winning any ping-pong competitions anytime soon.

Then I drove David home, got a tour of the Union Station area house he rents with two other guys (which really seemed like quite a neat place to live). The weather was nice, so we went for a walk around the neighborhood admiring the unique details on this house, the cool porch flowers on that house, commenting on the nature of gentrification in the neighborhood. (H street is on the way to being the new U street, I was informed). It was a light-hearted mini-tour that ended with both of us (okay, more me) staring at a bee tree on his street (a behive imbedded in a tree trunk) which is more hypnotic than you might imagine.

I got home around 1:00am but was oddly not so tired.

Until this morning. Coffee is like manna from heaven some days.