current events

my mom is going through a divorce which seems like more of a military war zone
my sister is back in washington with her husband
my brother sleeps all day and rarely speaks in excess of two syllables at a time
my best friend is pregnant and planning a move to california
in one month i will be taking over the duplex which my mom and i currently share. i feel like a big girl again. thank goodness for an awesome employer. there have even been talks of my own purse/shoe line. someone pinch me.

and as for me:
saturday morning i leave on a road trip with stops in washington (wanachee, kirkland, seattle, cheney, spokane) and a few stops in idaho....perhaps even canada. my best friend and i have a long standing tradition of spending the fourth of july together. Of the 13 years (yikes) of knowing eachother, we have only missed two 4ths. i suppose it will be up to her husband and i to do all the celebratory drinking. damn.

oh, and flaxseeds are yummy

the queen of esotericism

regina spektor's new cd is brilliant (not that i doubted her). they style is slightly different than i expected but you will hear no complaints here.

thanks atp...

20 Years of Snow

He's a wounded animal
He lives in a matchbox
He's a wounded animal
And he's been coming around here

He's a dying breed
He's a dying breed

His daughter is twenty years of snow falling
She's twenty years of strangers looking into each other's eyes
She's twenty years of clean
She never truly hated anyone or anything

She's a dying breed
She's a dying breed

She says I'd prefer the moss
I'd prefer the mouth
A baby of the swamps
A baby of the south
I'm twenty years of clean
And I never truly hated anyone or anything
Twenty years of clean
Twenty years of clean

But I got to get me out of here
This place is full of dirty old men
And the navigators with their mappy maps
And moldy heads and pissing on sugarcubes

But I got to get me out of here
This place is full of dirty old men
And the navigators with their mappy maps
And moldy heads and pissing on sugarcubes

While you stare at your boots
And the words float out like holograms
And the words float out like holograms
And the words float out like holograms
They say, feel the waltz, feel the waltz
Come on, baby, baby, now feel the waltz
Feel the waltz, feel the waltz
Come on, baby, baby, now feel the waltz

Mary Karr

i am completely obsessed with this woman, despite the godliness....

here is a link to her npr interview:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=1131295

from her book sinners welccome:

Pathetic Fallacy

When it became impossible to speak to you
due to your having died and been incinerated,
I sometimes held the uncradled phone

with its neat digits and arcane symbols (crosshatch,
black star) as if embedded in it
were some code I could punch in

to reach you. You bequeathed me
this morbid bent, Mother.
Who gives her sixth-grade daughter

Sartre's Nausea to read? All my life,
I watched you face the void,
leaning into it as a child with a black balloon

will bury her countenance
either to hide from
or to merge with that darkness.

Small wonder that still
in the invisible scrim of air
that delineates our separate worlds,

your features sometimes press toward me
all silvery from the afterlife, woven in wind,
to whisper a caution. Or your hand on my back

shoves me into my life.