Friday, October 18
i´m in iceland!
and now i present this, from a sticky on my retrieved powerbook :
>>>>>>>>alyssa and i work on interpreting the lyrics of elliott smith's "angeles," and she quotes from her buddhism reading. hannah in a towel turban reads an iraqi ethnography and drinks from a salsa jar the oj-spritzer-triple sec-vodka concoction i made her. claire's got her powerbook out too, tapping away at her record of swat memories, hoping to bring it up to date, but currently mired in sophomore spring, which is prompting all sorts of recollections from the three of us that were around for it. and by now i've cycled through all the photos and stickies and other non-internet-reliant diversions to be had from this one, shy of music apps. so i guess it's time to proxy blog. i brought the computer thinking to maybe do some record reviews, but at least i can get this out of it.
we had two days of gorgeous, and this one has been all rain. the first one was driving up: a nice trip, starting on schedule almost even, after bagels and gas. tracking coloration in the foliage as we headed north - 10-15% at first, and shooting up to glorious 75% or so by northern penna. real fally. coldplay, rufus, red-blooded americans, everything. we met with my folks at a restaurant in watertown. they had hot drinks, we had food; i had a lot of food, like a spinach-bacon salad and an open-face reuben.
we got here by 7, and it already felt late. we all did nothing. reading, tea-drinking. hannah and i played scrabble, or rather we played most of a game. someday perhaps i'll finish a game with her. [i did have two 98-point turns in this game: ZIPS and ZONE with the Z on a double and S on a triple, and RESHORN.]
life here isn't worth writing about, it's so so immensely worth living. this is my home and hearth, my resting place and i love i love i love being here. and i want to spend it with you.
tuesday was as gorgeous as monday, and therefore we slept in and got around to going outside, for a long meandering walk. when we tired of the rangerschool trails and roads, we crossed a memorial bridge to nowhere and 'shwhacked up into a hill, dawdled inspecting leaves on antlers and bugs on logs. everything was picturesque. i sang aloud "flowers never bend" and then some shins songs, which are all about sunlight and nature. i think my companions may have had their faith shaken, but i led us back via some fortuitous paths, and we arrived home safe.
drive to the store for a couple extra ingredients for the evenings victuals. the meal we prepared, mostly adapted from the moosewood - big pot of chili, "mexican" cheesy corn bread, mashed acorn squash - was generous and autumnal. when it's all there is to do, there's nothing better than cooking. plus reading and dancing and guitar playing. all my favorite music: i'm with stupid, kiko, quality control, get lost, and more throughout the weekend.
if today is wednesday, it rained all day long. it was a cold rain, it's a hard rain, like the kind you find in songs [POLL: how many of you think this lyric is a bob dylan reference. raise your hands] it's nice to watch it through our big windows, and depending on which way the wind blows it's often hard to tell that it's still raining at all. i couldn't convince anyone to go out except hannah and i walked around the island and then through the woods to the store, where she bought film and klondike bars to sit in the gazebo eating in the rain. this rain was different from the swat rain. and nobody would go boating with me in the rain.
at some point i finished the boyle, started borrowed borrowed kundera. we had orts for dinner, plus a corn/pear/lettuce/something salad. the squash wasn't a big hit, but i liked it. carrot-squash soup was creamy good. hannah made splendidly chewy oatmeal cookies while i made a (one match, to light a candle) fire in the sweat lodge. but i left the door open, so it didn't get hot. we tried again a while later and it still didn't get too hot, but it was still nice.
it seems like elliott smith has a thing about "balancing" profanity in his songs: if he says "fuck," he's very likely to say "shit" a few lines later. some examples:
he's fucking up even the simplest lines/…i'll be the only shit that's left behind
trying to occupy space: what a fucking joke/…i always feel like shit
and feel like shit the morning after/…situations get fucked up
and now i present this, from a sticky on my retrieved powerbook :
>>>>>>>>alyssa and i work on interpreting the lyrics of elliott smith's "angeles," and she quotes from her buddhism reading. hannah in a towel turban reads an iraqi ethnography and drinks from a salsa jar the oj-spritzer-triple sec-vodka concoction i made her. claire's got her powerbook out too, tapping away at her record of swat memories, hoping to bring it up to date, but currently mired in sophomore spring, which is prompting all sorts of recollections from the three of us that were around for it. and by now i've cycled through all the photos and stickies and other non-internet-reliant diversions to be had from this one, shy of music apps. so i guess it's time to proxy blog. i brought the computer thinking to maybe do some record reviews, but at least i can get this out of it.
we had two days of gorgeous, and this one has been all rain. the first one was driving up: a nice trip, starting on schedule almost even, after bagels and gas. tracking coloration in the foliage as we headed north - 10-15% at first, and shooting up to glorious 75% or so by northern penna. real fally. coldplay, rufus, red-blooded americans, everything. we met with my folks at a restaurant in watertown. they had hot drinks, we had food; i had a lot of food, like a spinach-bacon salad and an open-face reuben.
we got here by 7, and it already felt late. we all did nothing. reading, tea-drinking. hannah and i played scrabble, or rather we played most of a game. someday perhaps i'll finish a game with her. [i did have two 98-point turns in this game: ZIPS and ZONE with the Z on a double and S on a triple, and RESHORN.]
life here isn't worth writing about, it's so so immensely worth living. this is my home and hearth, my resting place and i love i love i love being here. and i want to spend it with you.
tuesday was as gorgeous as monday, and therefore we slept in and got around to going outside, for a long meandering walk. when we tired of the rangerschool trails and roads, we crossed a memorial bridge to nowhere and 'shwhacked up into a hill, dawdled inspecting leaves on antlers and bugs on logs. everything was picturesque. i sang aloud "flowers never bend" and then some shins songs, which are all about sunlight and nature. i think my companions may have had their faith shaken, but i led us back via some fortuitous paths, and we arrived home safe.
drive to the store for a couple extra ingredients for the evenings victuals. the meal we prepared, mostly adapted from the moosewood - big pot of chili, "mexican" cheesy corn bread, mashed acorn squash - was generous and autumnal. when it's all there is to do, there's nothing better than cooking. plus reading and dancing and guitar playing. all my favorite music: i'm with stupid, kiko, quality control, get lost, and more throughout the weekend.
if today is wednesday, it rained all day long. it was a cold rain, it's a hard rain, like the kind you find in songs [POLL: how many of you think this lyric is a bob dylan reference. raise your hands] it's nice to watch it through our big windows, and depending on which way the wind blows it's often hard to tell that it's still raining at all. i couldn't convince anyone to go out except hannah and i walked around the island and then through the woods to the store, where she bought film and klondike bars to sit in the gazebo eating in the rain. this rain was different from the swat rain. and nobody would go boating with me in the rain.
at some point i finished the boyle, started borrowed borrowed kundera. we had orts for dinner, plus a corn/pear/lettuce/something salad. the squash wasn't a big hit, but i liked it. carrot-squash soup was creamy good. hannah made splendidly chewy oatmeal cookies while i made a (one match, to light a candle) fire in the sweat lodge. but i left the door open, so it didn't get hot. we tried again a while later and it still didn't get too hot, but it was still nice.
it seems like elliott smith has a thing about "balancing" profanity in his songs: if he says "fuck," he's very likely to say "shit" a few lines later. some examples:
he's fucking up even the simplest lines/…i'll be the only shit that's left behind
trying to occupy space: what a fucking joke/…i always feel like shit
and feel like shit the morning after/…situations get fucked up
