you swam through me today.
emerging from time to time to float above the surface.
bobbing softly, inhaling, and then submerging down deep, into the inky dark.
but there all the same.
sticking thick sometimes in my gut, catching quick in my throat as you returned for air.
he saw you too.
he spotted you, as you broke the surface.
he told me, when he pointed
the birthday party ended tonight
the plates stacked high
cutlery cluttered and huddled at the base of the sink, dressed in clumps of cake
ice cream fingerprints on the fridge door handle
remaining glasses standing on the table, pillars from some ruin
lets leave it all till morning
he said taking her hand
and she obliged
so they softly plod down the dark hallway
towards cool sheets and thick covers
I was listening to a RadioLab short: The Universe Knows My Name on the commute to work today and had the pleasure of hearing Paul Auster be interviewed and read some of his work as part of the segment. I really enjoy his writing (most recently I read Invisible last fall and studied In the Country of Last Things in school), but its his voice that made me smile this morning.
Its thick and gravely and smoky, like smooth stones being slowly rolled together. I envision myself sitting in a supple leather chair listening to him; the air sweet with pipe tobacco. He comes on at :57. Take it in.
Take this bread, if you need it friend, cause I’m all right if you’re all right. I ain’t got a lot, but all I got, you’re welcome to it, cause I’m all right if you’re all right. —
The Felice Brothers - “Take This Bread”
I think there would be a lot more smiles if more of us lived by these words. Its just past dawn on Sunday morning. Miles and Lindsey are resting. It’s a cool, cloudy day. I have a hot cup of coffee, a fresh FADER to read and The Felice Brothers playing my morning soundtrack. I’m all right if you’re all right.
boy: “How do people dream?”
dad: “When you close your eyes and go to sleep, your mind keeps working and running and making things; so it creates this whole other world inside your head that you get to go to every night.”
boy: “Cooooool” — Overheard at Trader Joe’s today while shopping with Lindsey and Miles. Took place between a little boy of 4 or 5 years and his father while comparing apples in the produce aisle. I can’t wait till Miles starts asking me those kinds of questions.
We are so distracted by and engulfed by the technologies we’ve created, and by the constant barrage of so-called information that comes our way, that more than ever to immerse yourself in an involving book seems socially useful. The place of stillness that you have to go to to write, but also to read seriously, is the point where you can actually make responsible decisions, where you can actually engage productively with an otherwise scary and unmanageable world. —
Jonathan Franzen, from his interview in Time with Lev Grossman
I just finished reading Freedom, his most recent novel. Its terrific and I highly recommend it. I’ve been reading and thinking a lot (who isn’t) about the impact of technology on our culture and on ourselves — our brains, our relationships, our freedom — (I just started Jaron Lanier’s You Are Not A Gadget) and this quote reflects my perspective on the need for quiet reflection and sustained thought in today’s busy digitized world: whether through reading or simply sitting in silence and contemplating peacefully; with a smile of course.
Lindsey and I decided to list out all the places that we have been together. In order to qualify, a night or full day has to have been spent in the location.
16 states, 5 provinces, 10 countries, 3 continents
we haven’t even scratched the surface.
In no particular order:
Gasparilla Island, FL
DisneyWorld Orlando, FL
Every single mile of I-95
The Berkshires: Lenox, MA
New York, NY
Atlantic City, NJ
Martha’s Vineyard, MA
Cape Cod, MA
Kicking Horse Pass, AB
Corner Brook, NFLD
St. Anthony, NFLD
Cape Breton, NS
Riviera Maya, Mexico
Sun Kil Moon -
Its been a crazy Friday and everything’s moving super fast. I just put on Sun Kil Moon and took a second to pause, gaze out the window and listen to Mark Kozelek’s haunting voice. I’m okay now. Its Friday. Its all good.
I was in Chelsea Market today. The weather is cold and biting and its raining sideways, so I stepped in to get some respite and wander around. Tucked way at the back of the long, ambling hall of the bustling market, I discovered Posman Books — past the madness of the restaurants and shops and chattering crowds. Its a wonderful store — with inviting table displays of hardcovers and paperbacks; organized like perfect puzzle pieces. The main room is brightly lit and opens up to a larger back room lined with floor to ceiling bookcases. The thick wood plank floors creak when you walk and the pulpy sweet smell of ink and paper is everywhere. I was the only customer in the store and my footfalls echoed as I wandered amongst the stacks. It was utterly peaceful. In a city like NYC, filled with noise and activity, finding these little outposts of calm is such a treat. I was going to take some pics or a video, but I felt like it would ruin the whole experience. I have a kindle and I love it, but I will forever buy books from places like Posman Books. Big, heavy, tangible, world-containing books. Read on.