snow & gunpowder

this is why we breathe. this is why we lift our heads. this is why we rage against despair and push onward, shaky yet doggedly fierce, unstoppable, bent on nothing less than an exuberant resolution.

This one's been in the works for a while now. First in a series of several. Use your imagination for the imagery, because you'll have to. Starting in August of 2012, the idea of meeting/visiting Megan in Kansas City has had a steady spot in my travel considerations. The conversation began around cocktails and KC's glorious scene for them, but ultimately and over time and online chats, it boiled down to a simple "I've got to meet this girl." After 15 months and several failed attempts at arranging my schedule, we finally made it happen. FRIDAY | A delayed flight had me in a frenzy. I typically do not function properly under pressure involving connecting flights. (It's because of the time in 2008 when I literally fell through the Atlanta airport after going through security AGAIN, unnecessarily. Almost missed my connecting flight to Washington, D.C., and that would have been a disaster on my very first time flying on my own.) After risking stranding m...

outfit // loose charcoal grey tee, black leggings, and turkish kilim slippers with a messy topknot cleaning the apartment natural light new black shelf neatly stacked flours counter space fresh eucalyptus in the kitchen and in the shower making a gorgeous brunchy casserole cooking up a storm with my lover cardamom coffee windows open fresh air / changing winds toots thielemans. jazz harmonica. ne me quitte pas. modern film rendition of shakespeare in black and white (it was much ado about nothing) small (huge) revelation regarding happiness with one's body and being all of these small joys eclipsed by a lofty yet completely encompassing sense of belonging. however long the stint here ends up being... this is home.  

This morning was just too much. Waking up emotionally-charged and on edge, whether from last night's dream or from some happenings earlier in the week, the following three experiences fairly sent me hurtling toward despondency. They made me want to bury myself into my blanket and cry. How alarming. 1. The stove blew up. There was a flash like lightning in the room and a sizzling sound, followed by electrical smoke and opened windows. Someone nearly got killed by a tired kitchen appliance. 2. I spilled my favorite coffee all over the bus floor. I hadn't even gotten to take a sip yet. Tragical. 3. Writhing slowly on the sidewalk was a bat, wings outstretched and shivering. It was dying, I assumed. Tears flowed quite promptly. L moved the poor thing to a nearby bush branch and out of the way of careless steps. It barked. Probably in fear at first, but then in gratefulness. So much pain and danger in the world... it's enough to make one dizzy. Times like these make me gl...

October the 18th | It is the night of the Full Hunter's Moon. There's a party to attend this evening. Shannon is in town. It had been her birthday on the 9th, so she decided to pay Oklahoma a visit. She is radiant and I see her and don't know what to say. What do you say upon seeing a friend from your on fire days, that you haven't truly spoken with in over two and a half years? You say that you don't know what to say, and you look into her beaming eyes and soak up the happiness that has flooded the room. I say it. We'd both had the same idea to plant kisses on each others' cheeks; she beats me to it. She hugs me and holds my hand. A prayer begins the potluck meal. Familiar faces abound and I am overwhelmed with indecisiveness. A few persons seem to vaguely imply that they have no interest in conversation with me, which I brush off and move on from, trying not to be hurt. [Looking back now, it very well could have been {and likely was} I who pushed the...

On the 24th of last month, I took a very last-minute flight up to New York City to see my Lawrence, who was in the area for work. We went to The Dead Rabbit . Great story behind that place. They're a grocery and a grog, which is twice as nice. Scotch eggs had been on my list for almost a year, so when I saw them on the Taproom's menu, my decision required no thought. It came with its own mini jar of Colman's Mustard, which is a lot of Colman's mustard, I would quickly learn. You don't know what real mustard is until you've tried it. And that's no lie. I paired the egg with Swedish Punsch, which was probably highly irregular. Most Brits probably order beer with theirs. But cocktails are my weakness, so I couldn't resist this concoction: Batavia Arrack Van Oosten, lemon sherbet, lemon juice, ginger, Lapsang Souchong tea. Scotch eggs remind me of The River Thames, because at some point I wrote a bucket list item that involved both the eggs a...

Listen with the night falling we are saying thank you we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings we are running out of the glass rooms with our mouths full of food to look at the sky and say thank you we are standing by the water looking out in different directions. back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging after funerals we are saying thank you after the news of the dead whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you looking up from tables we are saying thank you in a culture up to its chin in shame living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you over telephones we are saying thank you in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators remembering wars and the police at the back door and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you in the banks that use us we are saying thank you with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you with the animals dying around us our ...