A man’s library is a sort of harem. ~Ralph Waldo Emerson The Euro spent some one-on-one time with his folks back in the autumn and I’ve just gotten around to downloading the photos from his trip. One of the things I love about the man is this: the way he loves books. One of his
(Flynn in Repose) Buffy: Do you have weekends off? I want to visit soon. I need a muse. If I don’t get these revisions finished by my birthday, I’m cutting off my ear. Flynn: Yes! Every weekend off, and after the first week of May I’m free and easy, baby. PLEASE COME. Together we will
Mother on the Moors Sandburg’s Sink Brethren Baby We tell ourselves stories in order to live. The princess is caged in the consulate. The man with the candy; will lead the children into the sea. We look for the sermon in the suicide, for the social or moral lesson in the murder of five. We
“I’m asleep. That’s what I am. I’m always asleep.” My grandmother has dementia. I spend my weekends with her. On Sunday she had a pensive moment and when I asked her if she was ok she said “I’m asleep. That’s what I am. I’m always asleep.” She looked so sad and so done with caring,
When we were young we used to write letters to one another from aboard Venetian gondolas and beneath Cambodian crypts. Flamboyant and fabulous. All the places we will be from. On Thursday, this arrived in the post. Hang in there, yeah?
“If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.” – C.S. Lewis Yesterday was the first day I ever thought it. Something horrible. She knew. She
It was Christmas. I was twenty three, trying to make The Euro jealous and dating a man named Alex. Alex was from Volimes, a village on the island of Zakynthos. He was six years older than me, brain crushingly beautiful and an absolute ass. But he was a fantastic cook when I could only afford
Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd by Walt Whitman OUT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me, Whispering, I love you, before long I die, I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you, For I could not die till I once look’d on
(above) Assyrian sculpture and Balawat Gates (11th – 8th centuries BC) Whenever we visit the British Museum The Euro spends most of his time in Room 4, which is where all the Egyptian sculpture is, mostly just staring at the Rosetta Stone. My favourite is the Ancient Assyrian (modern northern Iraq) exhibits. Large stone sculptures
From Top: Westminster, Tower of London, British Museum, Saint Pauls Cathedral, Equestrian Statue, City of London School, London Eye, Tower Bridge. If anyone can tell me the who what and where of the equestrian statue, please do. For some reason I’m thinking its outside the Houses of Parliament hanging out with William and Richard. Or
A field in Cheshire. Next to our old Sunday Pub. I always want to sing “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” whenever I pass it. You wouldn’t know from all the fleurs – but it was bitchin cold that day. This, the explanation for why my face looks like a rubber mask. I hardly recognise myself.
