comfort & joy

Buried in my hard drive are more than 12 hours of holiday tunes that wait eagerly for this week each year only to dust themselves off in a pretty-damn-jolly frenzy and delight me once again. I am a Christmas music connoisseur. Of this I refuse to be ashamed.

Tonight's choice holiday beats:

1. Christmas Time is Here - Vince Guaraldi

2. The Christmas Song - The Ravonettes

3. Come On! Let's Boogie to the Elf Dance - Sufjan Stevens

4. Violets For Your Furs - Billie Holiday

5. I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm - Frank Sinatra

(And yet, more listing of lists...)

Christmas wish list highlights:

1. Mermaid bottle opener

2. Tiny cactus

3. Dinosaur cookie cutters

4. Tandem bicycle

Comedy by 4-year-old Thomas

"Knock knock"
"Who's there?"
"Light bulb"
"Light bulb who?"
"Light bulb in your mouth and it's a bomb"

"Knock knock"
"Who's there?"
"Cow"
"Cow who?"
"Cow in your mouth and it's poisoned"

On proper identification

"Oh, I don't have my I.D. Would you like to see my crown?"

- Miss America to Hearst security.

How does New England give thanks?

Oh, stay tuned.


My choice Thanksgiving traditions:

1. Being at the lake, smelling amazingly fresh air, staring out at the leaves from opposite shores.
2. Sugar cream pie. Why is it that no one here has heard of this? Savages.
3. Falling in love with Lucy Van Pelt each time I watch Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown.

On lunch

"These croutons are amazing. I'm going to eat them like candy."

-K

Wit of the Internet, November edition

excellent.

On good cheer

"We'll just make muffins and call it a muffin party."

- K

Dream

I'm sitting in a subway car. Sun is pouring in through the windows. We're above ground. I'm reading, but notice something moving on the floor from the corner of my eye. It's a dove. It's injured. I watch it writhing on the floor. It looks like something invisible is choking it. I'm horrified and I try to call out for help but everything is completely silent, including my voice.

The bird dies as I watch. No one notices but me.

Excerpt

You take to swinging a pickax
I take back my vamping kinks

And the pavement beneath us sinks
This stinks. Think: In-situ leaching

But with leeches, louses,
Lampreys. Oh Spouse,

Your hard hat leaks a surfeit
Of lamp rays that's wasted sub-surface

A night so pitch it's perfectly black.
A sapphire scarred by a scratch.

Sickness, health, abundance, lack
The salt in my wound. The shirt on your back.

- December issue of POETRY

Gchat: A context-free highlight

Me: no.
this will work.
and it will be epic.
with knee pads.

Friendship Summary

says so little.
says so much.

Excerpt

"Neither camp seemed to harbor any illusions. This war would be neither quick nor glorious."

- From "A Rainbow In The Night" by Dominique Lapierre.


The latest from Lapierre is the gritty history of South Africa. Reading about clashes stemmed from territory and religious disputes, it's impossible not to draw a more modern comparison.
Tragedy, on repeat.

On college

"Freshman year, I made out with a boy in an apartment above Crescent Donuts once. What was his name? Bobby? I don't know. I think we're Facebook friends, though."

- K

Bakery reminiscence

takes me back.

On Saturdays, Grandpa would come wake us early and we'd pull on jackets over our pjs without saying a word. Sneaking out the front door of the lake house, we'd hop into the cherry-colored deck boat – before anyone with an anti-donut agenda could object – and zoom off onto the water after pastries and fresh morning air. We'd dangle just over the ledge at the boat's bow and giggle as our faces were sprayed and splashed with cool droplets. There was something about the way the wind whipped through my hair and about the way we were solitary on the water that evoked the strongest sense of adventure I've ever had. (To this day, nothing beats the feeling obtained from speeding around in that boat.)

We'd dock in front of the old Tom's Donuts shop, where we'd press our hands and faces up against the glass, determined to pick the perfect bunch and beguiled by the never-ending supply of sprinkles and glazes and cream fillings. My brother and I would then begin the maneuvering process between the legs of strangers until our box was full and satisfying.

There was nothing better.

Want.

The Coralie Bickford-Smith Clothbound Series for Penguin.

ooohh, gimme!

jurassic. with sprinkles.

the very picture of happiness.

Other treasurable objects/feelings/instances:

1. The first bite of a tart apple.

2. The fit of a good hat.

3. The way hot coffee feels in your stomach on a cold day.

The Remedy

a new favorite.

yum.

When unemployment loses its "hip to be poor" sentiment, I'm headed back to Indiana to open a bakery and start a little quarterly pub to match. Who's in?

Gchat excerpt

Me: I get chased in manhattan. I get chased in bed stuy. not sure which one scared me more.

K: what?

omg

where in manhattan?

Me: in front of the damn mall

I mean, can’t you send out some message to all of the crazy religious folks and tell them that I’m a lost cause and if anyone is going to save me it’s going to be you, SO BACK THE HELL OFF

please?

K: mall?

where do we have a mall?

Me: Columbus circle

K: those people are not my preferred method of reaching people

ugh

Me: dear god, please stop me from being chased. thanks, allie.

(will you give him the message?)

oh, and I’d like a job.

and a pony.

Thursday's Dream/Friday's Reprimand

splish/splash

Thursday, I dreamt it was spring and my head nicely replayed our yearly "river" dipping.

Friday, the vending machine refused to serve me chips, and flashed "Make another selection" instead. I sulked off with granola.

The Daily Endorsement

I endorsed TV.
And I feel okay about that.

Halloween Account

Carrie rode the subway covered in blood, three pirate wenches shopped for shoes in SoHo and a teletubby stopped for a cigarette in Brooklyn. Later on, monsters shuffled down Sixth Avenue in droves. Highlights included, but were not limited to: an amazing MJ impersonator that led a zombie pack which stopped for periodic Thriller dance breaks.