Internet Stalker
The problem with today’s society, and myself, is when we get bored we become internet stalkers. The internet is the boob tube of the 2000’s. Clearly, I too am guilty as charged, or I wouldn’t be here blogging.
My favorite haunts:
shelfari.com – My obsession for books has invaded absolutely all corners of my life: home, work, and cyberspace
facebook.com – Everyone else was doing it, and apparently people don’t answer phones anymore, they just tell you to facebook them.
gublerland at matthewgraygubler.com – he’s quirky and creative, entertaining, and oh yeah, easy on the eyes.
bryandrinkscoffee.com – love seeing my favorite artist add new exciting work to his online gallery.
And now, of course, there’s twitter, which I don’t completely comprehend, but have joined anyway to feel more connected to the publishing world.
What sites do you stalk?
Just Me and Sor Juana
“Fate, was my crime of such enormity”
To go on as I always do
To expect change like those defined as insane
“You whisper you have yet more harm in store
pursuing me with such severity”
I meant to be more than all this
But I suppose I’d rather not have far to fall
Banvard’s Folly A Must Read
Paul Collins is a genius and I love him. If I have children, they will learn history from this book (as I will home school)… these people will all be included in their lessons from when we’re studying Nathaniel Hawthorne and Emily Dickinson to Thoreau and the Concord Grape. John Banvard will be discussed when learning about art and art history as well as financial wisdom. We will discuss Delia Bacon in relation to the people she corresponded with as well as when we study Shakespeare… along with her, Coates’ adventures as Romeo will be a humorous anecdote to read between plays and the discussion of various acting techniques. This is a fantastic piece of history that I find amazing the world has forgotten. Let’s bring these stories back for the future generations! Thank you Paul Collins for bringing them all back to life in the pages of your book.
Remember Xanga? December 26, 2005
I dream of an orange painted room with a distressed green four drawer dresser, black futon bed, Asian lanterns, candles, and bettas swimming in bamboo. Steamy room with a wicker fan blowing overhead, the sun streaming through ivory cotton lace curtains onto a girl in satin, bare legs exposed. Waves of long hair tickling bare shoulders as her husband takes it all off and flings it aside.
Those sexy blue eyes of his staring down at me and taking me in. Me taking in the sight of him. And knowing I will love him forever and he me.
We’ll stumble to the kitchen when we’re done, on an orgasmic high, and eat finger foods and leftovers, preparing for another round.
A Red Halloween
I had a great scheme planned. I was going to have a commi party for Halloween. Everyone wear red, drink Russian vodka, and read aloud from The Communist Manifesto until the night ended. Well, it didn’t quite happen like that. Instead, I spent the afternoon alone in my red pajamas and drank french pressed coffee wrapped in comfy blankets and read the manifesto in the quiet. I have a cute little blue Penguin Great Ideas edition. Despite the unexciting manner in which I finally read this little piece of history, I enjoyed the experience quite a bit. And no, I am not a communist.
My Official Review:
“The Communist Manifesto changed the face of the twentieth century beyond recognition, inspiring millions to revolution, forming the basis of political systems that still dominate countless lives and continuing to ignite violent debate about class and capitalism today.” For that reason, I think everyone should read this book and grasp a greater understanding of the world around them. At the risk of ‘igniting violent debate’ I’ll let it be known that I disagree with the concept. I am especially opposed to the idea of the abolotion of a right to inheritance, as I would love to pass my library down to the future generations of my family. Perhaps some things should be a little more equal, but I like the individuality we have in being able to select what we purchase and accummulate. I enjoy the right to educate our own children, having the priveledge to opt out of public education in order to give our children more – more knowledge, more quality time, more love.
JARS… a book club
The Templars – Piers Paul Read (history/religion/secret societies/ occult)
The Fountainhead – Ayn Rand – general fiction/literature
On Art and Life – John Ruskin – essays
City of Dreaming Books – Walter Moers – young adult/fantasy
Time Was Soft There – Jeremy Mercer – traveling memoir/bookstores
French Pressed: A Coffeehouse Mystery – Cleo Coyle – mystery
Coffee and Coffeehouses: The Origins of a Social Beverage in the Medieval Near East
– Ralph S. Hattox – history/sociology
Nefertiti – Michelle Moran – historical fiction
The Search for Nefertiti – Joanne Fletcher – archeology/egyptology
East of Eden – John Steinbeck – fiction/literature
Journal of a Novel: The East of Eden Letters – John Steinbeck – journals/letters/lit.crit
Suite Francaise – Irene Nemirovsky – general ficiton
Hermit in Paris – Italo Calvino – memoir
Arlington Park – Rachel Cusk – general fiction
The Seduction of Place: The History and Future of the City – Joseph Rykwert – Urban Studies/Architecture
Bit of Nostalgia
How sad is it that when I remember you – I remember me.
I remember me walking down the trolley, knowing you’d asked for me.
I remember I had curly hair that day, a rare occurance, and you commented on my poney tail.
Now you don’t answer and I always really did mean to be friends.
I suppose it’s for the best.
How sad it is that when I remember you – I remember me.
I remember me walking out into the cold, knowing you’d asked for me.
I remember my jeans were tight on my skinny little thighs, and you commented on my ass.
Now you’re elswhere and I’m glad, because I never meant to be friends.
It’s definitely for the best.
How sad it is that when I remember you – I remember him.
I remember crying in the car driving to your house, knowing he’d ask for me.
I remember that song playing, never ending, and you commented on how we both wanted something else.
Now I’m finally happy, because there were so many of you and now there’s just him.
Not sad at all really.
Anakalian Whims 