something about this just makes me feel old.
i knew what i was talking about when i said that the christmas spirit dies somewhere around two in the afternoon on christmas day, when the morning is done and the world closes up again. you're left amid wasted wrapping paper and the objects of desire fulfilled with a night ahead of you that is on the other side of time from when you can enjoy the holiday again. it's a night that seems best spent in but you know others are out and your excuse wilts-- loneliness so deep and grey that it can only be associated with the birth of christ sets about its grim work as the sun sets and robs the overcast sky of its backlighting.
and the house is cold, damp with the sorry slouch and whispered apologies of decorations which have just hours ago outlived their collective usefulness. there have been family gatherings both here and elsewhere and they only have the effect of making you long for family, but someone else's. waves of jealousy that shouldn't exist splash down at the sight of the stable lives of relatives with their significant others. at the gathering the mention of the name 'emily' conjures images of idyllic 1950's suburban landscapes, a little girl my uncles must have known, low yellow houses, summer porches and christmas cheer. winter has just begun but it feels like it should be over already. it is not yet january. it's not even 2007.
from tomorrow it is a stolen season, a state of mind: a long, cold spring.
and the house is cold, damp with the sorry slouch and whispered apologies of decorations which have just hours ago outlived their collective usefulness. there have been family gatherings both here and elsewhere and they only have the effect of making you long for family, but someone else's. waves of jealousy that shouldn't exist splash down at the sight of the stable lives of relatives with their significant others. at the gathering the mention of the name 'emily' conjures images of idyllic 1950's suburban landscapes, a little girl my uncles must have known, low yellow houses, summer porches and christmas cheer. winter has just begun but it feels like it should be over already. it is not yet january. it's not even 2007.
from tomorrow it is a stolen season, a state of mind: a long, cold spring.
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also me
- city lines magazine
- twitter (annus_mirabilis)
- ashley (almost a love song)
- kayleigh (i [verb] you)
- nicole (raise your hopeful voice)
- alli (what an odd-sized explosion.)
- haven kimmel's blog
- sara benincasa
- wonkette
- i blame the patriarchy
- who is ioz?
- a softer world
- toothpaste for dinner
- natalie dee
- married to the sea
- dinosaur comics
- xkcd
- terror island
- the perry bible fellowship
- cat and girl
- björk
- the decemberists
- the weakerthans
- sigur rós
- stephin merritt
- norfolk & western
- the essex green
- of montreal
- elephant 6
- arts&crafts
- laura veirs
- mary timony
- cbc
- alt weeklies
- al jazeera english
- george galloway
- marxists internet archive
- world socialist web site
- the pinky show
- quotidiana
- exit mundi
- the millennial abyss
- the revealer
- killing the buddha
- the brick testament
- colbert nation
- mcsweeney's internet tendency
- the brazen head
- iq infinity: the unknown james joyce
- ulysses by james joyce
- the leonard cohen files
- only revolutions
- luminarium
- geoffrey chaucer hath a blog
- haven kimmel
- purity of heart
- banana yoshimoto
- jeanette winterson
blogs
webcomics
music
news and political
curiosity, entertainery, and literary
about
-
me: aspiring writer, 'music nerd,' seeker of beautiful moments, college student, armchair theologian, nominal quaker, 'the diet coke of emo with no caffeine,' eclectic left-winger, and generally someone who thinks about things too much.
this: unedited, uninhibited, and uninteresting thoughts, nebulous stream-of-consciousness ramblings of memory, inside jokes, obscure references, emotional paroxysms, and slices of life. sometimes there are pictures.
what people are saying about me
'...something entirely different from anybody i've ever known.'
- krystin
'...a nice boy.'
- laura
'...a maoist!'
- greg
'...elevate[s] emotional self-destructiveness to an art form.'
- greg
'...my favorite pixie.'
- lizzie
'...a damn good conversationalist.'
- kelly
'...blue-raspberry [pie]! or or maybe cranberry raisin.'
- becky
'i feel like a wide eyed kid in the socialist candy store...and [he's] the clerk.'
- christine
'...far too sensible and perceptive to be straight.'
- catherine
'...not british.'
- catherine
'...would have made a good medieval monk. one of the non-crooked ones.'
- catherine
'...should have been born a dolphin.'
- elizabeth
ATOM 0.3
'life was just a series of things i'd read about coming true.'
-- michelle tea, the chelsea whistle
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