New Orleans, early june

an old man in suspenders and dickies, off work, beating the rain to the next bus, said to me in a quiet, crinkled, speculative voice: it’s god’s weather; and he knows what he’s doing.

a young man with an ecstatic smile asked me, at a bus stop in the rain, how my day had been. when I said the day had been beautiful (damp breeze, full sun): every day is beautiful.

I laughed. that’s true. when I asked him how his day had been, he beamed: can’t complain. I laughed. that’s true. that’s the truth.

and comparisons between new orleans and venice–the sinking cities, those romantically doomed shanty-towns with mildewed cobblestones and processions of ghosts; the ephemeral islands intent, with all their resident romantics, on going down dancing. all this with talk of real estate and climate change.

and how much of that densely-packed, winsome rhetoric unravels when we try to distinguish between an act of god, our own failures and our fables; when we try to make sense of the rain and the floods and the sea level and sinking cities and real estate prices and why the bus is always late when it rains?

someone, surely, knows what they’re doing?

I turn 29 in two weeks.
I’m trying to restore order visually, conceptually, by writing in my planner and making collages and measuring how much cereal I put in my yogurt.
the rain and the real estate, however, I will leave to their own devices.

universo (the loveliest ceramics & illustration!) / anthony cudahy & nicole reber / lisa says gah / opaqueglitter /



some reading

reading orwell’s politics and the english language alongside a nifty essay on the current linguistic/political atmosphere–an atmosphere heady with incoherence, with a sinister nonsensicality.

let’s reflect on democratic socialism, then, and on orwell’s intelligence and humor, on the new york review of books. on speaking up and on being quiet. on revolution! on peace. let’s focus. let’s connect the dots. let’s be coherent, and kind, and see beauty and grace in those qualities, in intentionality and humanity.


birkin & gainsbourg / maria callas / ledansla / free people / focus damnit / melody hansen / that kind of woman / dribbble / bison shop

all I want for Christmas is a vintage turquoise ring…

all I want for Christmas is a vintage turquoise ring...

J.Crew socks / Nine West loafers / vintage ring, bandana & blanket / YSL lip gloss / Kiehl’s eau de toilette / Madewell candle / Book of Common Prayer, 1977 

among other things. went two-steppin’ the other night at the local country/metal bar, which smells of livestock and tequila and is as electric with the naive romance of dance-floor-hopefuls as a high school prom. I was in a foul mood, but watching the pairs sway and spin, all glowing red via the neon beer signs, was, somehow, heartening. humanizing. humbling.

my friend got dolled up in the Dolly sense of the word, in a hot pink vintage dress with gold heels and feathered hair.
it all got me feeling a certain kinda way about Texas and that plucky southwestern chic, that gamine sort of glamor. tough and unapologetically feminine. a girl who can shoot guns and pool without chipping a nail.
all I want for Christmas is to rival that badassery.