Drizzle coffee flower cup yellow day
Lesley Gore - You Don’t Own Me (1964)
Holy god this feels so good.
Kindness: World, You Need A Change of Mind.
"Hug a butt."
This morning our barista made these for Katie and I. So I guess we look super cool. (at Red Door Coffee)
Twitter-lolz pal Allison Mick performing at Vice Principals of Comedy. Loll’d.
New Year’s Day sunset at the beach
Cleaning the apartment with Zimmer.
Recently I went on the spookiest hike, which was, of course, glorious. Alan and I saw several dead (and a few live) elk, but this one is the scariest one. We also saw a disemboweled rabbit and a crow eating a banana. Giant turkey buzzards circled overhead; there was a dense fog adding mystery to everything. We never knew what we’d encounter as we made our way to McClure beach, a normally gorgeous view that was grey and deathy when we reached it.
As we headed back inland the sunlight disappeared and we found ourselves walking in darkness, the moon barely filtered through the fog. Every shadow was assumed to be an animal that would charge, kick, or otherwise maim us. It was perfectly still and quiet, though. Like the end of times.
I want to go back on Halloween.
I wandered lonely as a cloudThat floats on high o’er vales and hills,When all at once I saw a crowd,A host, of golden daffodils;Beside the lake, beneath the trees,Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.Continuous as the stars that shineAnd twinkle on the milky way,They stretched in never-ending lineAlong the margin of a bay:Ten thousand saw I at a glance,Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.The waves beside them danced; but theyOut-did the sparkling waves in glee:A poet could not but be gay,In such a jocund company:I gazed—and gazed—but little thoughtWhat wealth the show to me had brought:For oft, when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude;And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the daffodils.
This was my favorite poem as a child. I memorized it for a poetry class in the 5th grade and the words stuck in my brain forever. I still recite it in my mind, mostly absent-mindedly, as you would whistle the same tune walking down the street. It just now struck me that the last stanza could’ve been written by me.. it kind of captures one of my favorite things about being alive. Did I somehow know this about myself, at ten years old?
Or maybe I just loved daffodils. Either way. Kid Sherah.
“It answers the question that was tormenting you: my love, you are not ‘one thing in my life’ - not even the most important - because my life no longer belongs to me because…you are always me.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre
Hallway kitty is dressed up for Christmas!
I took this test from the NYTimes that tells you what your US dialect is. I was curious because, as a military kid, I moved around so much that I’m sure I’m a big blob of “everything.”
I took the test twice, because the first time I received the result of “Lubbock, Texas,” and a couple of cities near it. I’ve never lived there, and imagine it was a fluke due to the aforementioned moving around, melting-pot accent happenstance. So I took it again, and answered as I would have spoken when I was growing up.
It’s pretty accurate! Off and on my entire life I lived right there in the center of that triangle there between Baton Rouge, Jackson, and New Orleans.