Will You Still Love Me...

Will you?

More Ketchup Please

More images for Robin:

!
Cousin's babe shower.
where my mother teaches.
shower fare.

Thanksgivers

My uncle and aunt have these overgrown little shop of horror plants all over.


Tiny boats.

Friday morning.
Friday night turkey soup.

Tiny soldiers.

Halloween Happened

Parrot!

Farmer's Market a While Ago

Catching You Up on Recent Nonevents and Mostly What I've Been Eating

Ate a veggie burger on Amtrak and loved it.
Fell madly in love with Northeast Kingdom's Banana Cream Pie.
There are no words.
Also ate chicken pot pie.
Visited Rachel in Cambridge and ate a delicious brunch at Town Diner.
Ate some tacos from the local Guadalajara Tacorea on Seneca Avenue.
Went to see the old stable where I used to ride.

Went with my mother to a second cousin's surprise baby shower, at Blue Hill at Stone Barns (on the old Rockefeller estate) where they raise their own meat and vegetables. 
Voted!

The Island

the little island was completely deserted by its usual summer crowds.

on our way.

late lunch on the beach.

The Nest

my cast iron bed reminds me of an orphanage.

Basie!

my little terror resting
still turning house to home, putting it together every day... more images soon.

As for that VP talk all the time, I'll tell you, I still can't answer that question until somebody answers for me what is it exactly that the VP does.

Thank you, governor. Looking forward to the debate!

Queens Hideouts, Wilderness

locked gate

pigeons

The alleys, courtyards and front yards of Queens are a new point of interest. some with tall ripe tomato plants, some with rows of bright flowers or junked car parts. building's swallowed up by crawling ivy. I walk by them every day, the weather's been good for wandering. though not exactly what I've described, here are some of the local wilds. more pictures soon, landscape and otherwise. 

Dream

Back from a long trip, settling into the new digs, living very much out of boxes and getting dangerously comfortable with the new standard. 

Last night I dreamt that I was back in Provence, in a very small, remote mountain village where there was an ancient stable. In this particular region, a select group of women were born into the job of Horse Wrestler-- a gruesome but respected position. stationed throughout the massive stables, these women held coils of rope in their hands, and when needed, would fight to restrain a horse in his stall, finally using the long rope to cut off the oxygen at his throat, causing him to pass out and be operated on or simply temporarily sedated.

These were brutal, unsmiling and sinuous women. 

Later in the same dream, my roommate showed up looking like a combination of Audrey Hepburn in My Fair Lady, and Jackie O. She wore a pillbox hat and matching three piece dress suit. The hat, strangely, included a form-fitting mask, made of the same pale floral-patterned felt, and provided two very small slits for her to see through. She was otherwise completely covered up. She appeared to be traveling incognito. 

July in August

Came to Queens yesterday to stay the night. stayed up late reading No One Belongs Here More Than You, a book of stories by Miranda July. when I mentioned the name of the author to my mother, she spun around from the dishes in the sink, smirking.

That is not her real name. 

I sit on the Veranda in July? 

Please. I don't think so.

Today I am like a snail. I watched one with El last week in the garden, oozing up the side of the citronella candle. it's shell was almost transparent, luminous, and sat on its stretched-out body like it didn't belong. like a piano on a whale. 

One day I will have a camera. and one day I will photograph this for you. 

Move Out

Thought I would load up White Lightning and start the move from Brooklyn to Queens, but after looking into the garden and seeing the stormy sky and menacing, green-turning air, I think today is a packing day. moving is best done dry. no claps of thunder, slippy sidewalk, soggy cardboard.

days like this are better suited to prancing around in a red dress and lamenting lost loves and missed chances. I'll leave that to Kate Bush, while I play the more mundane role of person who puts things in boxes and then tapes up the boxes and then pushes them together near the door, then sits staring at the boxes for a while as if waiting for them to hold forth on life and how to live it. first: coffee.

Me Make Blog!

Make first entry homage to Bigfoot. write fancy just not worth it! not try so hard no more. think catchy, maybe not go back to old style, new style more fresh, more youthy. got so much to say, not care how! like little baby penguin, me make do with what god give me.