You came like a night storm

you came like a night storm

without making an entrance or a spectacle.

and I thought to myself, this is familiar and it hurts.

causing us both to look both ways,

in a smaller world we could have caught a train or hopped aboard,

told a white lie and escaped, eloped, vanished...vamoosh!

i'm still your favorite pick in the summer, in white.

hot child in the summer

a little crush on my Danish chef

if I wasn't on a buying hiatus... these sweet shorts from patagonia, please. love the water photo too!

a double complete rainbow, too awesome via huffpost

a new fave blogger, julia

and this one, retronaut

wallflowers

I would like to have a dinner party with these people

Ira Glass makes sense

I want to wear this outfit to my beach dream soccer game picnic party

need a summer art assignment?

The SKETCHBOOK project. I am doing this. It will be nice to do. xoxo

tgif

hunting bruce...dun nuh, dun nuh, dun nuh! Are you still scared of JAWS? I still can't float around with my back to the ocean floor, nope.

RIP Dennis Hopper, and thank you for your lovely photos + art!

Love the idea of airbnb, via cupofjo (who I've been blogstalking recently, she just had a baby and my best friend is preggers too, so there.)

these bangles rock*

now for serious. this is the Gulf Coast oil spill map. eww. Visit WWF's Gulf Oil Spill page to find a list of local wildlife protection groups and ways you can help.

*the little spender project is still very much in effect, but I can dream :)

photo via neil krug

get on your bikes and ride

I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride my bike
I want to ride my bicycle
I want to ride it where I like

xoxo

a little bit taller

I imagine your face looks like a combination of men. Marty Robbins and Jude and maybe eyes like the brief encounter with the guy from the electronics store next to the book shop where I like their chai tea best. You are so handsome and lonely for a night like this. You are working hard for something that means something to you. Right. Like when I had to go to work really early and I would ride my bike past the Harvard Department of Zoology and I would turn to see people going in to study lions and salamanders and I would think to myself, that is really a nice solid thing to study, things that matter, things that roar and move around. Unlike philosophy or theory, these guys are pros, they know how to tag animals and dissect things to get answers. You are like that, no nonsense. Except you love my imagination and my pretend smarty pants comments about other countries. You can't get enough of my reaching out for things I can't grasp. You think its charming when I map out the universe in colored pencils. Then I make you some tea and you think its the best tea, and it is.

a penny's golden backside

The pavement is glittering with the motion of rain on it as he steps out into the streets. An umbrella is rolled up, neatly placed under his arm. This man looks like he belongs in many places like next to an old woman in a car or at the movies, but not on this street. He just ate a cheeseburger and had four or five screwdrivers, but he wasn't counting. He was there for the win. All of this youth hung around him, they were draped like parts of his life that would pass by. He knew all of their names, and all of their birthdays and he loved them. The sock in his left shoe had been bothering him all night, it had rolled up too tight at the toe, but he would wait until he was on the bus to fix it. He didn't want to waste time in the rain.

When he got home he put the umbrella on the kitchen table and took his shoes off. His socks looked scrunched up. He took them off without using his hands. It took him fifty-two seconds. Then he flung them into the bedroom. He sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket over his feet and legs. 'I wonder what the movie stars do when they get home?' he thought. He perused over the adverts in that days newspaper, but no one was selling anything useful. A 1998 Honda, red, missing tail lights. A labrador mix, three months old. A Singer machine, from an estate sale. A collection of National Geographic Magazines from 1967-2001, odd years. No baseball cards, no missing children, no decent obituaries. He turned on the game and shut his eyes.

He thought about his night and the way they hadn't almost won at all, not even close. Then he sang a few lines from Billy Joel's Still Rock and Roll to Me, 'Nowadays you can't be too sentimental' and fell asleep.

little spender project

Update to Little Spender... I do have a job right now, actually three jobs all of a sudden! And I am trying to get my new business, Studio Diiley, up and running by late December, so this Little Spender project has a bit more leeway. I am still following the rules, but having to buy lots of supplies (sewing machine, wood for panels etc) I have to give myself a little more slack. Also, I broke down and bought a few clothing items with my fresh money...but I did trade out three items for each new item and donated them to the women's shelter. Hmm.. this is pretty hard, but still challenging in a good way.

I do not have a job right now. No money, and no reason to be spending. So, I've decided to partake in a little project called 'little spender'. I am doing this for two reasons. The first is that I like to consider myself a simplistic person and an eco-friendly one, but I don't think I really am. I bet that I consume just as much as anyone, so I want to see if I can really walk the walk. The second reason is simply saving money. It will be a nice experiment to see if I can actually save as much as I think or if I will end up spending my money on olive oil and saffron in place of socks and new c.d.s.

It is very simple: for 365 days I will follow these basic rules.

rule #1: no shopping

(this excludes shopping for food and essentials such as toothpaste and chai, but as a clause to this amendment, I have to buy local and organic food when possible)

rule #2: make my own

If I have to give material things (birthdays, baby showers etc) I will make the gift. I can only spend 30% of what I would normally spend on materials for this said project)

rule #3 free entertainment

I can not spend money on entertainment, this includes going out for drinks, movies and such.

rule #4 less traffic

I have a car, and I know I will have to use it, but if I can possibly bike, bus or carpool, I have to do it, no matter how grumpy it might make me. I will save on gas, parking and car repair.

I am going to track my spending or lack thereof, and I promise to post updates, frustrations and adventures that this project reveals.

I was partly inspired by The Story of Stuff, as well New Dress A Day, the state of our economy and my own desire to save some money so I can buy a house in the woods.

xoxo, k

party lights

I am looking up at your window and I can see your shape at the computer. I see all of your little silhouettes framed with the springtime flowers and blooming luscious tree stuff that surrounds the yard. I am in the night, arms open to the possibility that you might come meet me, at least halfway. I would run to the bottom of the stairs and you would open your window or climb into the tree or smile back at me. All of you would come rushing out into the yard with shouts and laughter. I would barely be able to contain myself. Someone would start to play the guitar and someone else would know what to do with drums. The blossoms would float through the breeze, catching on the benches and piling up on the dark green patches and over the paths. Someone would suggest a drink and you would all agree. I would make myself something with tequila and mint. There would be twirling and whispers and party lights and cigarettes and songs. I am so glad you think this is such a good idea. Exhausted, I sneak up to your window. I smell your room and my own perfume. I lean out the open window and watch the rest of you dance into dreams.

RIP Gustav

You watched me wash my brushes out every night. Waited patiently for me to turn the light off and leave you to your tapping and clicking. I thought your little Blattaria feet gave me reason to curl my toes. Your shadow delivered the possibility of a late night encounter, it was always a deadlock. You never budged, not even a slight scamper. We had an understanding. Two creatures with nothing to lose by allowing the other a peaceful and quiet evening. Now you are nothing more than a smudge on the grey cement floor. I miss you every time I see the mark that was made between yourself and that cruel heel. My cucaracha, how I miss your taking up that space below the pipe, under the sink that I wash my brushes out in every night.