The Idler's Academy in Port Eliot, Cornwall

They’re singing sea shanties. I’m at a festival where the lineup includes Jarvis Cocker, Luella Bartley, and Diana Athill and here is a Cornish men’s vocal group singing a capella sea shanties. The crowd— a mix of people my age, my parents’ age, and children— lap it up. This is either the weirdest or most brilliantly eclectic festival out there. I have fallen down some kind of rabbit hole into an alternate British universe without irony or hipsters. I am so confused.-Lauren Elkin

I've been musing with a friend about a Bath-Wales-Cornwall trip when I'm feeling better & have the wherewithal. When I saw Lauren Elkin's Maîtresse post, You haven't lived until you've seen an English field full of teepees at twilight, I thought, aha Port Eliot. Yep. You can read Lauren's Letter from Cornwall: the Port Eliot Festival on Bomb . It's pretty inclusive. (I would've loved the Persephone tent arranged as Vanessa Bells's Bloomsbury sitting room. I don't see any photographs but I shall pursue. Here's the Persephone blog.)

Teepees are OK but I'm the Gypsy Bowtop Caravan type. Enough tents in my lifetime, thanks. The kids atop a bovine is not from the festival. I'm looking for decently priced rainboots. (To everyone who will email: Hunters, yes I know. The prices are out of the question presently & for the abstract future. Update--I forgot to say that they're now made in China. So, ugh.) I had wet feet most of last winter. Plus, it's so hot out, that I need to look at something green. My paternal grandparents had a cow* that I don't remember riding but I choose to believe that I did. And if I'm not mistaken, some time ago my father either bought a cow-out-to-pasture for hanging out or he meant to. Anyway, I've done this, yes.

From the website: This year the Idler’s Academy of Philosophy, Husbandry and Merriment opens its doors for the first time. Tom Hodgkinson, editor of cult magazine The Idler, has established the Academy as a resource for these three valuable but generally neglected disciplines. This year’s curriculum includes Latin grammar, scything, woodwork, education theory, poetry and, of course, lashings and lashings of fun...

Bring on the rest of the weirdness.

[photograph of teepees by Bill Bradshaw; Gypsy Caravan via Port Eliot site; *bulls & asst. cattle are still bovine]

A Tiny Cat of Rome

This was gruesome--fighting over a ham sandwich

with one of the tiny cats of Rome, he leaped

on my arm and half hung on to the food and half

hung on to my shirt and coat. i tore it apart

and let him have his portion, I think I lifted him

down, sandwich and all, on the sidewalk and sat

with my own sandwich beside him, maybe I petted

his bony head and felt him shiver. (rest of poem) from Another Insane Devotion, Gerald Stern

So you couldn't have found something pretty to write about a pretty Roman gatto? No, I'm feeling devilish tonight. Besides, I love this poem by Gerald Stern. (He was born in Pittsburgh, by the way.)

Thank you so much to Julie of Being Ruby for sending me a new version of the Coliseum Cat. She included an earlier version in a package last autumn, along with a beautiful handbag that I won on her blog. Julie publishes beautiful photographs of her travels & of her Sydney. This print sits patiently with many other things-I-love, ready to be placed just-so on a wall above the desk. If, when, if, when the wall is painted. Soon, soon. So I am told.

I love the nerve of this cat but I worry about him (or her), too. Don't blame the big cats for the hideous goings on at the Coliseum. Man invented it. Cats kill to eat, not to entertain themselves & others.

[photograph by Julie Newcombe/Being Ruby/all rights reserved]

A Redheaded Woman

Maureen Dowd (a redhead) wrote a terrific column last week about the death of the grown-up romantic comedy. She has an email give & take with Sam Wasson, the 28-year-old author of Fifth Avenue, 5 A.M., the best seller about the making of Breakfast at Tiffany’s. I agree that the stupid movies probably confuse younger people a lot. Too close an inspection of many cupcake & pink unicorn blogs is worrying. Infantilization--especially when you do it to yourself for cryin' out loud--ain't (grown-up) sexy. Here's a bit of what Sam has to say:

"I am not joking when I say that because there is nothing to see (especially, and tragically, in romantic comedy) my girlfriend and I have had to stay home and in some cases fight. If there were better movies out there, I am sure so many relationship disasters may have been averted. Also, romantic comedies, the good ones, taught me how to love, or at least instructed me on how to try. If I were falling in love now for the first time and going to see this garbage thinking this was real, I would be in deep [expletive]. It was only after I saw ‘Annie Hall’ as a wee Jew that I realized what it was to be a person in love. It has been a touchstone ever since." Really, you need to read the column, here.*

Today I thought good thoughts about all the (many) redheads in my family, friends, former colleagues, actresses, a great singer-song writer (who inspired the song), & a columnist for the NYTimes. If you choose to be a redhead, I salute you & welcome to the club. My hair hasn't been red-red in quite awhile, but most people still think of me as one. Here are a few for some Sunday fun. (Sadly none are of friends or family -- or me -- because I Have Yet To Scan, But I Promise To. Really.) ciao-for-now

*PS: And now, I'll add a redheaded man to the list; as much as he has peeved so many of us, Woody Allen did write & make Annie Hall.

Update - a few people have emailed, what the hell? So here's part of the song:

A red headed woman
It takes a red headed woman
To get a dirty job done -Mr. Springsteen

[photographs via verdoux, myvintagevogue, AMC. There were others I liked but wow, tumblrs that I won't name because they are not sexy, they are gross.Ooof. See? These people don't know the difference.]

Week's End - Italian Flowers

These flowers will prevent a cascade of photographs of blue dresses, Cary Grant, Mad Men characters, & other faiblesses. (Yes, I am working on Italian Stuff, anyway.) The Design*Sponge post prompted me to look up from the laptop. There on the desk is the same terracotta planter thingy & I have a glass bottle inside. So if I can totter up to the farmer's market (near Chompie the Shark, see below) tomorrow, I will do my poor-writer version.

Design*Sponge has inspired me to do several smart things this last year. (No small achievement, believe me.) A few recent ones: finally, fer cryin' out loud buy the missing manual for a sewing machine; rescue a (fake) wrought iron plant stand in a laundry room; refrain from tossing out an entire bed because surely something can be done with the headboard. I bought the terracotta all on my own because I love plant pots. Now, I'll get a ton of spam with those words in it; sorry suckers, I have tight spam control alerts on.

Have a great weekend, wherever you are (& where are you, anyway?)

[flowers via Design*Sponge, many more--including Italian travel pix]

Chomp & Circumstance

Sharks sighted off New Jersey, Florida, Massachusetts and on Discovery Channel’s Shark Week. Sharks: still angry about sushi.--From The Ten Things to Talk About This Weekend

The above quote is #4 on Henry Alford's New York Times Crib Sheet from yesterday. I laughed out loud on the Metro when I read it. (Click & see whole list.) The only reason people looked at me is because one rarely laughs on the Metro nowadays.

My neighborhood is a bit wacky & this sort of thing is usually posted at Julie's blog, but it's on break. I thought those in other lands might like to see beloved Chompie the Shark. (There's an argument about the spelling of the name. Isn't there an argument about everything, especially in the DC-area? The Discovery Channel blog uses 'Chompie,' hence my on-the-fly editorial decision.)

His Nibs has been in storage for a few years, so on a mid-July walk, I was delighted to see his adorable self floating through the Discovery Channel building for Shark Week. The local festivities are nearly over (shark-shaped chocolates, open-air films, etc.) Walking to the post office on Wednesday, I looked up & thought: he'll be gone soon. Sniff.

A local blog, Thayer Avenue, coined the post title, so props there. The photograph is via Silver Spring Singular (Chompy: The Revenge). Here is the recently-posted winner & runners-up for the Shark Week photo contest (& captions).

And yes, people are much more attuned to the need for shark protection (as in, sharks need it, too). I've seen some outraged commenters shrieking about this...all because we're having a bit of fun. We know, we know.

A Planet Without Flowers

People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.--Iris Murdoch, A Fairly Honourable Defeat

Not Murdoch's finest book, but she's so damned quotable. Very sorry to see secret-lover-for-thirty-years stories rising to the top in a quick Iris search. I thought cream rose to the top. Blech. (In March, I'm not linking to any.) Can no one keep their mouth shut anymore? Swine.

Photograph of Gemma Ward by Steven Meisel for Vogue 2006. It's via my crummy scanner (now deceased) but I see that it's in more than a few tumblrs, here. More photos from the Vogue 2006 editorial are in dustjacket attic.

Night Lights

Each day concludes in a huge splurge of vermilions/... And night arrives in one gigantic step.--from Two Campers in Cloud Country (Rock Lake, Canada)*, S. Plath

I've always wanted to see the northern lights (aurora borealis). Canadians & Americans in the north will see them tonight. (Maybe.) Cool NASA link. Goodness. Meanwhile, off to the bath. I'm looking at bath posts for ideas & as always, Tina Tarnoff has something inspiring on Thought Patterns. Ready for a Bath? from August 2009.

Good night you lucky, lucky people up north.

*the poem is not about death, no matter what lunatics write; it's about sleep. And vacations, holidays. And how beautiful Ontario was on a camping trip. The End.

[bath & tree bed via Verhext tumblr]

Bad Apple

Mille grazie to Maria Caterina di Perugia for a wonderful day at her house. She even picked me up & brought me back; I'm rather tottery lately, so this was a huge help. Lovely lunch. Discussed possibility of trip to Bath, Wales, & Cornwall within a reasonable time-frame (well, you have to plan these things). MCat received a gorgeous red-fabric bound set of collected Jane Austen from the Jane Austen Centre for her first anniversary (yesterday). My haul: three kinds of tomatoes, little peppers, heaps of basil, rosemary, sage, black-eyed Susans, & marigolds. Yay. I look forward to house-sitting whilst they are away at the beach later this month. Birds, two cats (one being My Julie), breezy house, & garden. No weirdo neighbor with secret meth lab. (I'm only half-kidding.)

All clean & tidy & happy-ish, claws sheathed, I logged on to see (as I did this a.m.) where/why iTunes had not downloaded the second episode of Mad Men (yes, it is a priority...you should read & look at the stuff I have to, then you'd know why). Thought it was me; no it was not. That was no small sum I paid for a season pass. Bad Apple!

Hope you had a great Monday. If you're a Bachelorette fan, Joanna at Cup of Jo is holding a series finale confab, here. (Me? No, but have a good time.) See ya in the funny papers.

ciao-meow

[Natalie Portman photographed by Ellen von Unwerth, 1996 via bohema tumbr]

Sunday Shopping - Sleep in a Persian Garden

It is no secret that I suffer from sleeplessness.

I just removed 700 words of fairly amusing drivel but it needs to be edited. As the tree near my desk is being whipped to a froth, the silvery undersides of the leaves showing, & the prospect of another power outage looms, I shall simply go straight to the shopping bit. The edited drivel will magically show up (in Parts I & II) next week.

In early June I finally tired of washing out a navy silk made-by-enslaved-masses sleep mask & needing it before it dried. So I went looking for another one & did so much better by visiting Bonnie, mask-maker extraordinaire, of BibBon on etsy. Bonnie has over 100 hundred masks to choose from, including a plain black one (which is important, I think, not just for men but for minimalist moods). I chose the one above, Persian Garden.

The two adjustable straps idea is wonderful & the sewing is sturdy & tightly done. I will never ever ever buy a mass-made sleep mask again. Not only that--it was less expensive than buying that popular navy silk deal in Whole Foods, ULTA, or wherever you found yours. Yes, really. The version I chose was $12.00 (yes, you read that correctly) + shipping = $US 13.30.

Bonnie will ask your choice of inner linings & guide you to what you want/need. That's it. It arrived quickly, washes beautifully, & I feel more glamorous than I should. If I am able to begin working (for money) again soon (please), I'll climb BibBon's luxury ladder for one of the silks.

Oh & a major side benefit about these masks from my perspective: Julie the Cat cannot budge the thing off my face as she can the other. While she seems to feel this has diminished her quality of morning mischief, I could not be happier (about that, at any rate). Go visit Bonnie at BibBon.

Have a great Sunday/Monday & I'll be back soon (if the power is on). Cheers & here's to a good night's sleep.

PS: Un grand bisou, Phoenix Olivier. Bon anniversaire!

[photographs via BibBon with permission, all rights reserved; Shell Cure for Insomnia via LIFE Archives]

Week's End - Blue & Yellow & Orange

There is no blue without yellow and without orange.--Van Gogh

I've hit a metaphorical wall so I'd like to stare at this for a day or two. I'll return with last week's Sunday Shopping over the weekend. In the midst of uploading photographs from the wonderful BibBon etsy shop, I was rudely interrupted by our electric (f)utility company. Have a great Friday (or Saturday for Aussies & Kiwis). Cheers.

From the photographer Robin Scott: We came across this colourful grandly named little gem while getting lost in Kinsale (sometimes it's better not to have a GPS). Looks like the window box might have been fitted after a night out. In a street of similar buildings, the one next door is named The Giant's Cottage. The giant would need to bend to get in the door.-- Robin Scott (via here)

Storm Warnings

I draw the curtains as the sky goes black
And set a match to candles sheathed in glass
Against the keyhole draught, the insistent whine
Of weather through the unsealed aperture.
This is our sole defense against the season;
These are the things we have learned to do
Who live in troubled regions. -Adrienne Rich

Not Again. Yes. Again.

(lovely photograph by Virginia Gálvez)

NB--Power didn't go out during a storm; oh no. It went out at 12.03am when all was as quiet as a mouse. I intend to mount a public campaign to force Potomac Electric Power Company to reduce bills, issue reimbursement vouchers for perishables, especially for those of us on fixed incomes. Also to reimburse diabetics, & others who must use refrigerated medicines. I shall think of my opening gambit tomorrow afternoon. I shall spend all of August on it, if need be.

Fifteen+ years of unreliable service is enough. Hurricanes, etc. yes. I understand; but if the basic integrity of the structure is not maintained, this is what we get. Unacceptable. This is war. Power companies should not make profits; they cannot be responsible to shareholders & public safety simultaneously. I have finally convinced a few former colleagues of this FACT. The fact that I live in liberal Maryland might help. Watch out PEPCO--you finally snapped my last nerve. Just now.

Prowling for Flowers

It grew late. Through the open door, stealthily, came the scent of madonna lilies, almost as if it were prowling abroad.
--D.H. Lawrence

Well, close enough, though these aren't madonnas. They are Casablanca lilies on sale at White Flower Farm. I recently purchased a White Flower Farm 100-daffodil naturalizing kit for a friend & her husband's first anniversary. The bulbs will be shipped when planting time arrives. Meanwhile, today's White Flower Farm email highlighted these scented lilies & I can't resist showing them. I hope to resist buying any.

As a child, I was inordinately proud that my name means 'lily' in every language in which it appears. I was flower-mad from birth. My mother received a phone call from a neighbor at early dusk in late summer. Do you know where she is? She's naked in Mrs. N's rose garden. Uh oh. They split up & cornered me (I was a fast runner, even for 4 years old). I remember a thorn in my little paw--I blamed them (I must have been drunk on scent, to be so cheeky). As they rudely interrupted my communion with flowers, I'd clamped my fist around the (very few!) roses I'd pinched. My neighbor apologized for frightening me. My mother was annoyed, as one did not apologize to a child for anything. In her world, anyway. She said I was a bee in a former life. Or a dolphin. I wish she'd make up her mind.

If you have any room in your garden - you're lucky & here's the link to White Flower Farm. I've never had a thing go wrong with anything I've purchased from them. (I used to have a garden.) Many people shriek & say, the prices. Yes, well, you get what you pay for in these matters. (E.g., perfume)

[flower images via White Flower Farm]

Leave the Light On, Please

Well, I'm going to keep the light on if I have to plug myself in. Haven't worked out just how yet.

The power went out (again!) on Sunday early afternoon & returned today at 4am EDT. If not for 18-20 unexplained outages in 40 hours the previous week, I might have been sanguine about the wretched business. I checked--when I was a kid, the power rarely went out. In fact, I don't remember it ever going out. I have an excellent memory. Even with wind gales off Lake Erie (or later in Pittsburgh, with similar hideous weather--hot or cold). That's because the infrastructure was maintained. [photograph by great Tim Walker]

Off to collapse. Until the next outage.

PS: Here's the great Chris Smither singing his "Leave the Light On."

Week's End - Paul, Scene Stealer

Here's a link to Top 10 Paul Newman Movies on Scene-Stealers. How cool was Paul? Paul Newman & legendary newsman Daniel Schorr, who passed away this morning, were both proud to be on Nixon's enemies list. That's the spirit!

(Beautiful Joanne Woodward deserves a post to herself. 'Cause of the scene hog, above. He couldn't help it. He was born that way.)

Tuesday, 27 July update: I've been without power since Sunday, it returned about an hour ago (4am EDT). While I recover & assess the damage to finances & everything else, not to mention my one last delicate nerve, thanks to everyone who stopped by with comments & to queries in my email about 'are you OK?' Til later today, xo

[photograph via, where else? Paul Newman tumblr]

Joan

Beautiful photo shoot of Christina Hendricks (aka Joan Holloway Harris), here, via LA Times Magazine blog. The amusing-to-me Mad Men Blog: Basket of Kisses. Normally, I do not care about being nearly a year behind in programs, but I'll watch this season via iTunes. Leaving out details about how familiar this is from childhood. It was a mess but we had some great clothes, some great parties (well, my mother did--we watched from the top of staircase, except for ritual pass-through-in-adorable-pajamas-time. Not complaining.).

Update--the Madness just doesn't end. Here's The Definitive Mad Men Summer Reading List from Flavorwire (first seen on the Poetry Foundation's blog, Harriet). I've been waiting for this, actually. As in, "why doesn't someone make a list about what these people were reading?"

Saturday update--iTunes download/Season pass ready. For people new to watching online (I am), here's the link to AMC Mad Men site. To get ready for Season 4, you can watch Season 3 finale, Shut the Door.Have a Seat for free. Here are all the ways to watch...

Friday update /end of an era - RIP Daniel Schorr.

Green Relief

Bad Hair Day for the Pulsatilla; Shy Ferns; Hosta: Greens by generous Olga.

The first shot reminds me of the little Danish trolls many of us had as children. Yes, I made clothes for them & there were dances, weddings (yikes), & so forth. I didn't like any shots in a 5-minute search for the little guys (& girls), but here's a site that includes the original Danish manufacturer of the real trolls, DAM at Trollhouse DK (in English & Danish). I wish I had a set of trolls right now.

Good Evening, Bedazzler

Stanley Moon: Apart from the way He moves, what's God really like? I mean, what colour is He?

George Spiggott (Devil): He's all colours of the rainbow, many-hued.
Stanley Moon: But He is English, isn't He?
George Spiggott (Devil): Oh yes. Very upper class.

Peter Cook as the Devil (of course), Dudley Moore as poor little Stanley. There are so many funny scenes, but the quote above because I was a religion major undergraduate, descended from, um, people who are (still) annoyed with the English upper class, etc. Here he is, up to "routine mischief"(it's his job, remember) & his explanation re: Fall from Grace.

Here's a link to the hilarious b&w sequence with Cook as Drimble Wedge, top pop star, filling girls with squeals of delight as he drones on with cold, mean, & dismissive statements. To the utter bewilderment of Dudley Moore's Stanley-as-singer.

Good evening.

[Peter Cook wearing very cool specs via 24media tumblr]

Update-If the blog looks weirder than usual, I'm trying to reinsert Googley Analytics properly. I know that this blog isn't up there with the big dudes, but it is surprisingly well visited. Since changing the template, I have been informed by a computer analysis that no one has visited. Not even the people who have commented. Ahem.

Darling, It's Not Me, It's You (by The Paris Review)

I usually refrain from spreading gossip unless it's of my own concoction. Still, this is what I call news. I have warned writers, especially poets, to be careful with their CV/bio. Do not, I repeat, do not, (are you listening?) tell the entire world that you have a poem, a story, an interview, etc. "forthcoming." Until it happens/just before it happens. You will seem tasteful, elegant, & suitably modest. Oh, what a delightful surprise, there is your work, your quote, an interview with your charming self in [insert title of periodical]. But really, I'm trying to save you from possible public humiliation. Now, if others need to be contacted, of course, you tell them that a reporter will be calling, etc. Use your commonsense, if you have it. If not, borrow some.

Articles & columns are spiked routinely. But "unacceptances" such as being reported? No. What's worse, writers are turning on writers, poets on poets, editors on editors (well, OK this is not news), telling others to get over it. So rafts of accepted poems have been unaccepted at a major literary journal, so what? Oh, it happens all the time, etc. No it does not. Rinse, repeat, with adverb. No, actually, it does not.

Here are pertinent links. Behind the Scenes, We Who are About To Die, The Great Paris Review Poetry Purge, Part I, here. Part 2, here. The Poetry Foundation Harriet blog, here. Follow the threads. I don't particularly like to wallow in this ugliness, but people need to look out for themselves. I don't blame anyone for telling about acceptances (it is exciting, yes). It can help one's lot. Just don't FB/Twitter/Blog/YouTube to the moon & back, if it's not out/imminent. (Books are a different matter.) But now...hmmm. Back to fussing with templates, annoying phone calls, the cat's hurt feelings, & so on.

For those who don't give a damn (who could blame you?), there are worthy links on this blog & on Giulia Geranium about other matters. It's all a mash-up, anyway.

[lovely photograph by Dottie via her Dream Camera tumblr. Now I have to bookmark her Let's Go Ride a Bike blog & flickr account. She turns out to be very interesting, damn her.]

Poppies in July

(Photograph by Olga via flickr)

Update - and now I can't OK comments. It just won't work, so thanks. I'm sorry. Let's see how long Blogger takes to fix it. If ever.

Saturday Shoe Styles

The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that fits all cases.--Carl Jung

Please bear with me; I'm trying out this new-fangled blogger template. Of course, I began doing so too late & while too tired. I'll just chalk it up to 'bricolage' - playing around, moving things here & there. Maybe I'll go back to the old one. Don't know. 'Night.

Week's End - What a Dream I Had

...that tulle-clad, I rushed across the street & fixed the power grid myself. This is also to acknowledge a lovely man-child (at the time) who made this his song for me (& sang it) when he walked me around the chilly forests of Alsace, often late at night. Also rambles on the grounds of a château, close to the Rhine. Yes, we even heard the Cathedral bells, though not the Lorelei. It's the anniversary of a very difficult day & so I thank him. (Yes, too sentimental. Oh well.) Update: better quality video, here.

Continuing unexplained power outages. No one is telling us/answering our questions.

Ghost of Electricity

That's all that remains in this apartment, as I walked in arms full of flowers & perishables from the farmer's market. Storms you ask? Why, no, that would be understandable. One outlet & I'm supposed to be happy for it? I actually know how this stuff works (or doesn't). Yeah, that stuns me too.

I'm deducting the cost of all perishables from the damn PEPCO bill. Apologies to nice people who arrive here for the first time. I am rather excitable, yes, but this is the limit. I have lived/travelled in places where this is to be expected. Archaeological digs, countries at war, etc. But. The whole country (& connected Canada) will go this way if people continue to snooze at the mention of the power grid. Really. I've jokingly told friends I will in the future consider only dating men who have generators (or the ability to rig something up that won't kill me). Not survivalist types. Egad. We'd fight to the death in 10 minutes, politically speaking. I'd win, too.

I'm now looking at typewriters online. I suppose the old pedal sewing machine is next.There goes the rest of the power. Fume.

Friday update, 1.15pm: off again; on a bit; bound to go off again completely soon (the electricity)

[second photograph by Eugenio Recuenco]

Circus in Three Rings

Circus-y things. Pignouf's lovely Vintage Poster site (in French but you'll get it, really you will). Also Vintage Circus tumblr, is here. An intriguing post at The Clever Pup (August 2009) about Carnivàle Lune Bleue. Highly recommended reading. Note new film starring Jane Birkin & Sergio Castellito, Around a Small Moutain...opening soon near you.

Now, to creep across town to hair rescue center...wearing frizzy Heidi braids. As always, I'll run into someone I know on the way. On the way back? Are you kidding? Nope. Here's hoping I can commune with the Itinerant Poetry Librarian, here; or somehow celebrate Bastille Day with a sister who is celebrating (or not?) her natal day. Or...I have no idea. It is a circus here now.

Update - Thursday afternoon. The circus continues & I actually have things to report, photographs to post. Alas. So if you see photographs/posts later & think, no way. I was over here & these weren't here then. You will be correct, not mad. (Well...) Anyway, I'm going to post-date some things...playing with & for time. It makes one feel free & powerful (though it be a false notion).

[circus images in Freiburg by Thomas Totz; Solveig Dommartin in Wings of Desire, via tumblr]

Drunk With Pines

Happy birthday to sexy devil Pablo Neruda. He didn't look like one of the Spanish World Cup team; he's at a disadvantage, being dead & all. Still...

Drunk with Pines is from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair*, beloved by sensitive young men everywhere as a go-to seduction aid. Well, it's true, I'm not criticizing. Worked on me. (*Translated by W.S. Merwin, newly-appointed Poet Laureate in the U.S. )

Spanish Sunday

May this photograph of Maria Albaicin (for sale, here) becalm a friend who is shouting, what why is there nothing on Giulia's site yet? Must be kidding, but still. Here is José Andrés Made In Spain website. He's tweeting his great big heart out from South Africa. Also, one of my favorite sites, Flamenco World.

Ow. I think I'm being sworn at now. I really must learn Spanish & Catalan. Olé!

Update, 9:02pm EDT-Have just been informed that I did not say, "Congratulations to Spain." That's what this post is, fer Pete's sake. I know some very bossy people. It's karma.

Week's End - Blast from the Cold Past

A desperate-looking man at a bus stop, "They're after me." I sighed inwardly, oh no. Poor man. Then travel memories behind the Iron Curtain (still firmly drawn) flooded in. Observing weird comings & goings in Vienna, among other places. Going through Checkpoint Charlie. And ongoing amongst us innocents in the DC neighborhood (& more so in N. VA)? Crazy traitor Robert Hanssen not 5 minutes away, oh-so-busy honing his spy-craft (& perversions). (Have you seen Breach? Or read Eric O'Neill's book?)

Read/re-watch Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy; Smiley's People, but especially Richard Burton in The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. Now, that, as a professor (& friend) said to me when I was rather young, that is the whole bloody dirty nasty business right there. Hey, he knew nutty Ezra Pound. Who was I to question him on these tangled matters?

So that man, in the beautiful Burberry trench* right near the Phillips Collection? You never know. They could be after him. I gave him a quarter for the phone.

Here's John le Carré's website.

Off to scary dental doings. (Shades of last summer.)

*I know. A cliche. Life is like that sometimes. It was a Burberry. Speaking of clothes, the above shot is via myvintagevogue.

The Itinerant Poetry Librarian

From Politics & Prose a.m. email. Intriguing.

Modern Times Coffeehouse is delighted to welcome the Itinerant Poetry Library and Librarian on WEDNESDAY JULY 14th 2010, where from 7-10pm, she’ll be installed in our coffeehouse with her library OPEN. Come and visit her, discover her ever-expanding poetry collection – and add to it yourself if you've an appropriate title to donate – or even join the growing community worldwide who are members of TIPL.

The Itinerant Poetry Library is a free travelling poetry library, which for the past 4 years has circumnavigated the globe providing a free public poetry library service to the good citizens of 12 countries, 29 cities, in 150+ different locations, and with over 1000+ members undergoing joining procedures during the 1000+ hours of public library service it has provided. Come Join Before She Travels On!

For further information see The Itinerant Poetry Library website: http://www.tipl.info

The Jersualem Windows - Marc Chagall

I was fortunate to see the twelve windows from the perspective of a visitor & then, not so fortunate, as a patient. I've seen all of his stained glass work (I think). Here's a link to the hospital's site & to a rare book site. Here's a link to a post last year on a blog, Echostains & it has very nice images, as well.

Perched precariously on a dining room chair, stretching a blue open-weave summer blanket over the very large nekkid bedroom window, I listened to the Writer's Almanac very early today. Ah, it's Chagall's birthday. The light streams through the loose weave, casting a welcome chill & I thought, that's rather Chagall-ish. (Well, one must reach at times, you know.)

Faiblesses (Part I)

She had all of philosophy, save its moroseness, and all of nature, save its defects and general 'faiblesse'; or if some portion of 'faiblesse' attached to her, it only served to render her more forbearing to the errors of others. Lord Byron

It is too hot for serious industry & so I shall cheer on the Uruguayan World Cup team without worrying about a to-do list that would have 'heatstroke' as the finale. Attention to my switch of affections, Mary-Laure at AUREA, before re-alerting all of South America (via Twitter) of my idiocy & possibly sending a Uruguayan mob my way.

(However. If they look like the team, send them here immediately. I am not the only person to have noticed. "Hey, the Uruguayan World Cup players...is there an additional requirement of hotness, as well as athletic prowess, to make that team?!", said a friend who doesn't give a fig for the game. Hey, I do not know. Hey, I'd like to find out. Listening to a radio program in which a gentlemen precedes nearly every sentence with 'hey.' Why not a random 'olé!' for fun? He'd never be invited again but... Yes, I am easily amused & that can be a good thing when you take the Metro as much as I do.)

These (random) images are more manageable faiblesses (both blogs, of course, indicate my faiblesse-ness over & again.). Provenance is attached to the photograph if available; if you hover over it or click to enlarge, there it is, along with faiblesse title. I will put in more links in direct proportion to the error reports received for this post. (All the links are fine as far as McAfee is concerned; it's my Feedburner account that is a mess. Google Overlords are adamant that we advertise for them. (If that's too geeky for you, do not worry. I barely understand it.)

Hey! Olé!