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A new photo & book quote no. 3…

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I got bored after my night of being frustrated with freelance yesterday and decided to paint. While Depeche Mode and Feist poured over me – and the rain came down in hurricane fashion outside – I crafted this. I guess my mind was on the way leaves look from below on a sunny day.

This is perhaps the most concise summation of how I feel that I’ve ever found outside of my head:

“Thanks.” She sighs, does a wrinkle-and-freckle check, the way Anna-Louise does, too, right out of the starting gate in the morning. I have this feeling watching Jasmine – that as you grow older, it becomes harder to feel 100 percent happy; you learn all the things that can go wrong; you become superstitious about tempting fate, about bringing disaster upon your life by accidentally feeling too good one day.”

Shampoo Planet, pp. 131

There is probably nothing more luxurious (and decadent?) about reading for an hour in a cast iron bath tub. Just lying there, completely lost in a world of your own imagining, listening to music and watching candles flicker on porcelain and chrome. A great morning.

And now, with my belly full of Hannah’s pineapple & pine nut dessert, I’m going to make my way to a more reclined position.

A barbecue by smell alone…

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Just returned from an evening stroll through Bellefonte. The scent of grilled burgers was mingling with the humid, floral air all throughout town. Visitors were sitting in familial gliders on Victorian front porches. And I walked alone with my iPod, the young guy that no one knows and everyone forces a smile at while making sure their kids are not too close. Ah, to be a part of such a community…

These lyrics struck me as great while waiting for the bus today:

It’s better to be dumb than smart and fall apart.
Have meat and potatoes than starve for your art.
It’s better to let her than fall in the dark.
With every day better, here comes my part.

It’s better to be alone than lonely in the dark.
Watch 10,000 movies and learn all the parts…

“It’s Better” by The Incredible Moses Leroy

I stopped at Mike’s before my walk and grabbed Good Night and Good Luck and Why We Fight, which will compliment Syriana nicely when I finish it tomorrow. It is indeed better to be alone watching 10,000 movies. Or at least three when it’s sweltering outside and you have the day off.

The Devil Weards Prada

Speaking of movies, I saw The Devil Wears Prada last night and it was absolutely très magnifique. Naturally, the clothes were perfectly put together from start to finish. Meryl Streep was flawless, as always…dishing out more bitchitude than even Death Becomes Her and doing a great Anna Wintour. The plot was a little dumbed down to reach mainstream sensibilities, but Anne Hathaway keeps her character far enough out of the stereotypical to pull things together nicely at the end. I’d give it a solid 8/10 and thoroughly recommend you plunk down the (at least matinee) price for a ticket.

Fantastical…

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What a splendidly eventful weekend. I came home on Thursday night (after receiving my AirPort Express – my new favourite gadget of all time) and settled in at home for a weekend of nothing but celebration. Friday was spent being busy with Nate’s graduation party preparations. There were potatoes to be foiled, chairs to be positioned, streamers to be streamed and all other manner of madness. Saturday was a day of last minute tasks augmented with a visit to my cripple-friend, Lindsie. I filled myself with lemon cake (a new recipe, as Becky reminded me) and then came home for festivities.

Nate’s party was an unmitigated success. The only snafu was my beligerantly drunk grandfather. You’ve not lived completely until you’ve seen a 70 year old chasing somebody down in an effort to retrieve his keys, spilling a red plastic cup of beer all the way. Dear lord…where is the mind’s erase function? I was graced with a long visit between myself, Barbara Flora and not one but TWO of her sisters. And, I ate like a motherfucker…delicious deliciousness filled the garage.

Following the party (well, my stint at it, anyway) I met up with H to the oovah and drove to Dusty’s for his 22nd birthday party. It was a 70s themed evening, but I hadn’t dressed up. Which was okay, considering Mandy went beyond all out. Skinny trollop. Things were great and many a photo was snapped by a shutter-obsessed host. Perhaps he’ll even be posting said photos soon? Hmm? The only problem with the party was when I decided that Sonya and I needed to break into the Jehovah’s Witness church. And we couldn’t get to it by road…oh, no…we had to go through the wooded embankment. My legs and feet wear the scars (broken digits?!) of a tumbling entrance back into the party grounds. Ooops. I did, however, thoroughly destroy Ms. Trackstar on all fronts of running.

With my entire hungover family, I attended Seth and Katie’s combined birthday party before driving back, frantically shopping and obsessively cleaning. It was a major push to the finish but by 7:30, I was entirely ready for the arrival of my aunt, who is here now. Thus, my week is begun and I’m not even lonely. Wee!