snow & gunpowder

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 ...

Here is some bounty I picked up this weekend, at two different light levels and sources: indirect morning sunlight late afternoon backlight, aided by yellow kitchen light in front

An old, thin, darkly-tanned man with striking blue eyes was playing the guitar at the bus stop today. I was holding groceries, hot and tired, with earbuds in. A small decision to stop my music so I could listen to his opened a beautiful, brief moment in time that now I am eternally grateful for. He finished his song, and I cheered. He said he plays for people who haven't stopped to listen to the deep meanings of Johnny Cash's songs. Then he said, with eyes wide and passionate, "Now I'm going to play one that his mother-in-law wrote. It will change your life. Every person on the face of this earth needs to hear this song...just once." 'Keep On the Sunny Side' was the tune, optimistic and lion-hearted. As he finished the song, he stood and gave a small bow before walking toward the street. I thanked him warmly and he responded: "Take those words with you. God bless you." He crossed the road, slung his instrument to the side, mount...

brightest green sea moss. claiming coves like lost boys.  deep kisses to the rhythm of waves.  empire tea & coffee. horchata chai. scaling cliffs.  tearing up. history.  wine.  beer.  silence.  salt air. spice. gulls. miles and miles. full heart and braided hair this morning over an espresso breakfast. back to work today. loving life’s richness. overwhelmed by Love.

insects in my hair. little jagged impressions on my calves from a good long sit in the grass. pink/red/white/beige/golden/brown skin, all at once. scrapes to the shins and arms from thorns climbed through in patches on steep creek ravines, a necessary sacrifice. feet hardened and dark after so much barefooted glory, trekking through various territories. i never had those angelic-looking feet in the lotion commercials. if i have to wear summer shoes, it's sandals. that's a lot of exposure to the elements, which i'm cool with. i hate this confinement to finery and polished appearance. why can't i sweat without being scornfully judged? why must i apologize when my body responds to the weather? this is oklahoma, for heavens' sake. if you don't know by now that our summers will get hot and humid, usually both at the same time, then i have nothing to say to you. and what about that moon? what about her glory? she is a great conversationalist, you know...if y...

Rainer Maria Rilke. Yoga with a lover. Rainforest cadences. Twig tea. A late-night meal of homegrown cucumbers and 6-month aged white cheddar with adriatic fig spread. // These are 5 little things I find myself grateful for tonight. Welcome August in all her wordly and sumptuous splendour, with all the courage to live that you can muster.