H is for Hamlet

From the Bookshelves

We cannot cease desiring, and this is our glory, and our doom. Desire! It carries us and crucifies us, delivers us every new day to a battlefield where, on the eve, the battle was lost; but in sunlight does it not look like a territory ripe for conquest, a place where--even though tomorrow we will die--we can build empires doomed to fade to dust, as if the knowledge we have of the imminent fall had absolutely no effect on our eagerness to build them now? We are filled with the energy of constantly wanting that which we cannot have, we are abandoned at down on a field littered with corpses, we are transported until our death by projects that are no sooner completed than they must be renewed. Yet how exhausting to be constantly desiring . . .

-The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Muriel Barbery

Check it out of the library, buy it, kindle it . . . just read it, and soon.

rattling around my head, these days

downward dog, breathe in and out,
shakespeare, dark fairies, The Faerie Queene,
wipe the counters, wash the delicates,
play with the wizard-kitten, forget you exist (or don't)

toil in the pages of darker ages past,
plug into headphones carved from apple, drumbeats pulse
and twice-forlorn twangs of distant heartache
radiate between my ears

book leaves turn, pens scratch, macs type, eyes blink
icicles melt, perhaps to fall and penetrate my heart,
or puddle to create a slickness that makes my feet falter
and the days lengthen, and the eventide of my departure draws close

perhaps I am only Echo, to repeat your words as you gaze into rivers,
or perhaps I am Psyche, forbidden to gaze on you and when lamps are lifted, too late.
but I hesitate to haunt the cavern of tomes where I know you reside,
because I can't decide if which is worse (being your Echo or your Psyche)

82.

One of the very few good things about being an insomniac on a snow day is getting to lie on the couch in a haze while watching Turner Classic Movies. I love their '31 days of Oscar' and was lucky enough to run across Now, Voyager. I've been meaning to see this film for awhile, particularly after seeing the film adaptation of The History Boys. The History Boys is an incredible commentary on the study of history, literature, and overall what "deserves" to be studied, and what does not merit the time and effort. The boys eccentric professor tests them with sections of classic cinema and literature, which they in turn pick up to test him. One such test, is a scene from Now, Voyager. Upon seeing the actual film itself, it fulfilled all my expectations and more. I'd never actually seen Bette Davis in a film before, and she'd always frightened me a little bit. But I found her so sympathetic, and yet so full of moxy at the same time. She's incredible-an utter tour de force. And the male romantic lead, Paul Henreid, isn't too bad to look at either. Though he'll never eclipse my love for Gregory Peck.

I wanna hold your hand.

Please excuse some wistful dreaming, set to a beautiful (and fake) engagement shoot that I found on the amazing design blog design*sponge. I can't recall the name of the photographer, but . . . well, you'll get the idea.

80.

snowed in + kitten + polar bear comforter from childhood + english breakfast tea + cinnamon toast with jam + Ace of Cakes = a good day, though I want to drive my car. to get more cheerios.



















photo credits: katie*

Then the snow started fallin

The snow is falling yet again, and has been since 6 am. I'm chilling out with my roommate, making twice-baked potatoes and ghirardelli brownies (from a mix, we're not that fancy. I wish!) A little (500) Days of Summer and Good Eats, and I call it a perfectly good snow day.



Video credit: sklyrovka

And now I only think about you if it's raining, or it's not.

It may seem odd, or antisocial to say that I like hiding. Wherever I go, I collect places that I can consider mine and mine alone. Few friends know about these spaces, and those that do know not to bother me when I'm there. Tea shops, and coffee shops, and little nooks and corners of gardens and libraries and forests. My room is an inner sanctum. People are rarely in my room, and nobody enters it without my express permission. Well, one boy does(did) and it's a testament of how much I like the kid.

It's not that I want to hide who I am. Not really. I just want to preserve some peace for myself. Someplace where I can read without interruption, or just watch people pass me by. I want to sit without having to maintain conversation, or explain myself. I love my little solitary moments-reading while the snow is coming down, tucked away in an arm chair with my tea and nestled in a throw blanket. Being tucked away anywhere, really. Sometimes the world feels a bit too vast for my liking.

One of life's primal situations; the game of hide and seek. Oh, the delicious thrill of hiding while others are coming to look for you, the delicious terror of being discovered, but what panic when, after a long search, the others abandon you! You musn't hide too well. You musn't be too good at the game. The player must never be bigger than the game itself.

Jean Baudrillard







Songs listened to during the posting:

Laura Veirs: Where are you driving?
Simon and Garfunkel: Bookends
She & Him: You've really got a hold on me
Neko Case: Don't forget me