spring break 2k11: detroit →
sweet-juniper.com
i’m not kidding. who’s with me?
July 2010
19 posts
“There are so many fruits in the world; we can’t remember exactly who introduced us to what. But we never forget who showed us that there were, indeed, more fruits to discover than we’d ever realized.”
—
borges was right →
nytimes.com
argentine author jorge luis borges was a crazy man… in a good way.
exhibit a) he went blind from myopia one color at a time:
Young Georgie was also fond of the zoo, and spent countless hours gazing at the animals, particularly the tigers – his favorites. As he would later remark toward the end of his life: “I used to stop for a long time in front of the tiger’s cage to see him pacing back and forth. I liked his natural beauty, his black stripes and his golden stripes. And now that I am blind, one single color remains for me, and it is precisely the color of the tiger, the color yellow.”
exhibit b) he predicted the insanity documented in this past weekend’s [linked] new york times article entitled “the web means the end of forgetting” when borges wrote his short story “funes, the memorious” all the way back in 1942.
not only are both the story and article well worth reading, but the accuracy with which he predicted our modern memorious condition gives me hope that an aleph, portal to the entire universe, may just be in my basement!
one for the foggy monocle.
- a conversation between two heterosexual 'gents, presented in two acts. context includes an evening of drinking whiskey bootlegs and the seemingly impossible bike ride to return manly man no. one to manly man no. two's home.
- --Act One: July 20, 1:07am--
- Manly Man #1: [Manly Man #1] here. Go to bed holmes! I'll be back in the morning. Got too much of my drank on.
- Manly Man #2: You staying there?
- MM#1: Seems like the easiest, so I don't have to wake you to get in.
- MM#2: Do what you want. Its not worries. If you come you come if not you dont. Northern exposure woke me.
- MM#1: Hah! Just sleep easy. I can't navigate the whole way at this point, it will be much easier in the morning. Goodnight my sweet.
- MM#2: K hun. Be vigilant.
- MM#1: I'm on the lookout. Clenched. Yours now and always.
- MM#2: Make sure you don't miss your plane but if you do dont worry. We would be happy.
- MM#1: I'm going to be home bright and early. See you then?!
- MM#2: Indeed. Til then hommes.
- MM#1: Night beauty.
- MM#2: Night peanut.
- --Act Two: July 20, 10:17am--
- MM#1: Alive, but barely. What are you up to?
- MM#2: This woke me. Room is rotating.
- MM#1: Just vomited. Maybe ready for brunch?
- MM#2: Steal canoe and paddle here. See you next Tuesday. Will cook pidgeon and caber tosser.
la cuna
n. a twinge of sadness that there’s no frontier left, that as the last explorer trudged with his armies toward a blank spot on the map, he didn’t suddenly remember his daughter’s upcoming piano recital and turn for home, leaving a new continent unexplored so we could set its mists and mountains aside as a strategic reserve of mystery, if only to answer more of our children’s questions with “Nobody knows! Out there, anything is possible.”
undated
i just found an undated, yellow post-it note in my handwriting that reads,
“1. well, i’m not saying paris is bad, just that it’s the same. i’m still doing things i don’t want to do to pay for things i’m not sure i want.”
there’s no second bullet point and no explanation. the fact that it’s scrawled in extra fine point sharpie and on an actual post-it makes me think it’s a hold-over from my last office job, but who knows. somehow it feels really apt given my recent situation (high contrast between awesomeness and total shit), and validating that…
well nevermind. in the end, maybe just finding a little note from past sarah was nice. and that past sarah’s chicken scratch sounds like something present sarah would still say, but no longer applies. things are better than they were, whenever that was.
that’s what i’m getting at, i think.
“i love bacon. it’s my favorite color.”
—sailor sandvick
Dear Tween Boys at the Pool
I’m sure you think you’re clever, swimming backwards, eyes closed, hand grazing my boob. First time, oops. Next time, not so cute. And tell your friend who grabbed my ass, that I’m old enough to be his mom. Seriously boys, I’m 5’9” to your 5’2”; there’s an age and height requirement for this ride and you don’t qualify.
Signed,
Unamused MILF
we’ve always been who we are.
