the plan :: a friday excursion to pittsburgh
the supplies :: the google maps app + the complete anne sexton + large diet cokes + a fully charged camera battery
the soundtrack :: dent may and his magnificent ukulele + lisa hannigan + sunset rubdown + jack johnson + phoenix + jamie cullum
the photos ::
cathedral of learning
wesley w. posvar hall
random pittsburgh love
homeward bound
how’s your weekend going, my lovelies?
xo Alison
it’s the beginning of march and here’s what’s been on my mind ::
:: post olympic depression. god, i miss it. miss the non-stop curling, the theme music, the stephen colbert moments. i miss living on molson and whale shaped crackers and losing track of days in the haze of constant coverage. i do not miss jeremy roenick’s existence, or the endless rotation of parenthood and marriage ref commercials. i mean, i understand, alec. the dude has the best pro-stripper pole argument ever. and kim catrall? i got it. british columbia is sophisticated. i’m all up on it. but NBC’s general shittiness, and jeremy roenick’s small prick notwithstanding, the XXI winter games were, like, totally amazing: a silver for meryl and charlie; apolo’s general gorgeousness; the awesomeness of moguls and aerials; being mega tense during the insanity of biathlon; going to bed at 3am and getting up at 8am to catch up on the non-olympic related portions of my life; mary carillo’s man voice; scott hamilton sobbing through joannie rochette’s programs; me sobbing every time morgan freeman said “after receiving his gold medal, he took a victory lap…with his daughter…jane”; and, of course, sid. our sid. our captain. our leader. our everything. i was totally neutral going through the game. i was happy when canada was winning, and happy when USA scored. but there was that 1% of me, that ryan malone loving, unexpectedly patriotic, “we can beat these guys!” part of me that wanted a victory for US hockey. and i said “if it has to be anyone, though, i want it be sid.” and it was. perfect ending. sigh. sochi, anyone?
:: midterms. between the olympics and my schoolwork, the last three weeks have been controlled chaos. i’m honestly not sure how i managed to accomplish everything without burning a hole through my cranium. this has easily been the most hectic, tiring, demanding week of my higher academic career, but as of this weekend, i have nothing to do but watch the pens, snuggle up the tudors season 3, and wait for the coffee to perk. my big plan is a margarita night with some friends and that’s it. no notes. no early english books online. no center for american women and politics. just me, some crunchy peanut butter spread over toasted oat nut bread, and no alarm
:: sunshine. it’s power and ability to entice and influence and tip things off into a new direction. the sun has been out lately here in northeastern ohio, and even though there are still several inches of snow, clinging to the dead grass for their lives, i can sense the upcoming spring in my bones. that’s not to say that we won’t see another snowstorm before this winter is officially over, or even into spring, but as of right now, today, the path from the porch to the driveway is clear and the sun has been shining. yesterday as i was leaving my film class, i realized there was a pebble in my right purple ballet flat. i stopped and slid it off for a moment and balanced my bare foot on the wet pavement, and something about the chilled, but not frozen touch and the abundant sun made me think, for just a moment, i could feel the pulse of spring coming from someplace down below, working its way up, slowly but surely. and dear lord, am i ready for it
:: these lovely things
::::::::::: palm size scones with vanilla icing
::::::::::: cecelia marie halpert
::::::::::: the noir classic double indemnity
::::::::::: the ok go video everyone and their cousin is blogging about
::::::::::: the boys being 2 for 2 since the olympic break
::::::::::: laura veir’s ”make something good”
::::::::::: supernatural being renewed for a sixth season
:: jamie cullum. the four plus years between the pursuit and catching tales was worth it. the latest album is stellar. i’m totally convinced i would not have gotten through the last five pages of my women in politics paper without it. “wheels” and “you and me are gone” are particularly fantastic, and “not while i’m around” makes me, quite literally, swoon. i adore this smoky, british retro jazz phenom. it’s hard to believe it’s been almost six years since i met him on a street along the flats in cleveland, where he drew a set of tiny piano keys next to his signature on my twenty-something liner notes. hard to believe i survived the wait between the UK release and the US release. and it’s hard to believe people walk around and go to work and water their plants and sew their buttons on their coats without knowing the wonder that is jamie cullum. it’s a sad thing
:: tea. i’ve been consuming a lot of tea lately. starting and ending my days with tea. leaving over sized mugs with tiny beige pools of dreg dotted cream cold at the bottom on every table in the house, kind of like tiny flags marking where i’ve been. tea always brings me back to my childhood, makes me want to read emily dickinson, buy thumb-print cookies at west point market, and get a book out about the north york moors. but more than anything, tea is a such a simple, daily comfort, i think i’d go slowly insane without it
cheers [darlin']
Alison
so far, march means…
these photos ::
:::::::::::::::::::::
these songs ::
:: strand of oak’s “do you like to read?”
:: cosmo jarvis’ “she’s got you”
:: creed bratton’s “rubber tree” [yes THAT creed bratton]
:::::::::::::::::::::
these words ::
I Had Been a Polar Explorer by Mark Strand
I had been a polar explorer in my youth
and spent countless days and nights freezing
in one blank place and then another. Eventually,
I quit my travels and stayed at home,
and there grew within me a sudden excess of desire,
as if a brilliant stream of light of the sort one sees
within a diamond were passing through me.
I filled page after page with visions of what I had witnessed—
groaning seas of pack ice, giant glaciers, and the windswept white
of icebergs. Then, with nothing more to say, I stopped
and turned my sights on what was near. Almost at once,
a man wearing a dark coat and broad-brimmed hat
appeared under the trees in front of my house.
The way he stared straight ahead and stood,
not shifting his weight, letting his arms hang down
at his side, made me think that I knew him.
But when I raised my hand to say hello,
he took a step back, turned away, and started to fade
as longing fades until nothing is left of it.
:::::::::::::::::::::
these things ::
:: mumford & sons announcing a U.S. spring tour
:: every track on jamie cullum’s latest, “the pursuit”
:: the melting snow
:: getting a 95% on my history midterm, and an A on my first film paper
:: pineapple martinis
:: the john adams miniseries on dvd waiting on top of the t.v.
:::::::::::::::::::::
this moment ::
cheers [darlin']
Alison
the olympics are over. ennui! but, i am halfway through my “mountain of midterms: an extravaganza coming to blimp city, OH spring of ’010″. so huzaah!
let’s celebrate!
please don’t stop the music
please don’t stop the
please don’t stop the
please don’t stop the music
by jamie cullum
:::::::::::::::::::::
remembrance
[instrumental]
by balmorhea
:::::::::::::::::::::
and the boys go on and on and on and on
and there´s gold falling from the ceiling of this world
falling from the heartbeat of this girl
falling from the things we should have learned
falling from the things we could have heard
by angus and julia stone
cheers [darlin']
Alison
yesterday was one of those days that while you’re living it, you’re convinced it’s actually happening to someone else. that might not completely make sense, but yesterday didn’t make sense. it was an awful day top to bottom. a day where i had to give up seeing sondre lerche, my favorite artist, my birthday tickets, because of the cancer. the cancer, and the weather, and the timing. there was part of me that was prepared for this, but the girly, giddy fangirl inside me held out hope and was crushed. crushed, even though i’ve already seen him and met him, crushed because in some twisted way it feels like leukemia: 1, coopers: suck it.
and the day didn’t end there, no, it didn’t stop at snow and tears and brandishing b-cells. it stopped after a half hour walk through the woods near my house, snow up to my shins, my hair wild in the wind, silence except my footsteps, silence that made me want to run back home and fill my ears with old fiona apple, the perking of the coffee pot, the tallest man on earth’s “i won’t be found”. it stopped after my brother got in a car accident, to be followed by a cast member of the show he’s working on hurting themselves so badly they had to be taken from the theatre to the hospital by ambulance. it stopped after we took all the liner notes out of all the CDs that were covered in the pop that went flying when he hit the rail head on so they can dry stained and crinkly. it stopped when i went to bed and welcomed the morning. it stopped, but it’s still lingering.
it doesn’t help that i have a project due tomorrow, a paper topic due monday, a midterm exam and short paper due tuesday, another project due wednesday, and a ten page midterm paper due thursday, none of which is done. it doesn’t help that canada and the USA are going head to head in the gold medal match, something i should be super psyched about, but in reality i’m just torn between feeling disloyal and unpatriotic.
you know what does help though?
okay. no more bitching. no more wallowing. no more melancholy lines. not when there are m&ms waiting for me downstairs, good friends leaving messages on my phone, a spotless copy of strict joy that managed to miss the diet coke, and more destruction that dwarfs my misfortunes.
anyway…
with this latest onslaught of snow, a lot of the photography blogs i follow have been posting images of spring: bulbs, blooms, grass, pastel skirts. although i am a winter girl at heart, it’s making me long for summer. last summer was a very strange one. it started with us winning the stanley cup, met halfway with a road trip from ohio to nova scotia a back, and had a nostalgic, erstwhile air to it, a direct result of going the entire season thinking i was moving to, or more importantly staying in greensburg, PA by the end of august. the whole thing felt like an old flickering film you watch by hanging a sheet on the wall and turning down the lamps, letting the yellowing film from the forgotten projector hum into action. the whole thing felt like symbolism, like nuance, like the montage midway through a feel good movie. that’s not to say it didn’t feel good. it did. 2009 was a glorious summer. i mean, how could it not with how it started?
my point is, though, that living in a post-leukemia world has lead me to subscribe to the school of no tomorrows, only todays. i know where i would like to be at the end of august, but i think i’m going to try to live this spring and summer as though the only thing that matters is when the bowl of queen anne cherries turns empty. when it’s warm enough to plant the violas. weekends in amish country buying smoked cheese and handmade notebooks and listening to joe purdy.
hmm. i’m not sure where this post came from. i guess it’s backlash from missing sondre and living on soup and being pounded with snow. i mean, doesn’t that sound downright magical right about now: lemonade, peach polished toe nails, hibiscus blooms, jack johnson, open windows, warmth, moominsummer madness, fresh pineapple, tanya davis…
okay, that’s all before i start writing a poem about fireflies and pina coladas.
cheers [darlin']
Alison
