mad world.

My love for Mad Men is well-documented on this blog, but allow me to rave a little more. The cast appears on the cover of Rolling Stone this week and the article is accompanied by a fantastic set of behind-the-scenes shots. I think they're even better than this season's promotional stills. And I'm more in love with Jon Hamm than ever.

So hot.

not this one, jim.

I finally watched Jules et Jim last night. A classic - iconic, I think - so I can't believe I hadn't seen it before. I loved the use of newsreels, stock footage, and the at times almost frantic pace. I loved Catherine's pouting lips and sudden coldness. I also, unsurprisingly, loved the costume design, and think I will be channeling it into my own look this fall.




Jim: I understand
Catherine: I don't want to be understood.



[Jeanne Morceau singing Le Tourbillion.]

sun, sky, & sandals.

Usually I am exhausted by the time August rolls around, but this year I feel as though I am just getting started. I feel active & energetic & full of possibilities. This week has been particularly lovely. Here are a few reasons why:

+ morning yoga classes on the National Mall
+ boating on the Potomac in perfect weather
+ bars that play 80s music and my friends, who will dance even if no one else is
+ the stranger Saturday night who stopped to take my hand & call me gorgeous
+ french vanilla ice cream with fresh peaches
+ savoring an iced coffee by the fountain in Columbia Heights
+ finding a wonderful new church and immediately feeling welcomed
+ politics, politics, & more politics
+ a possible trip to London & France in December

So much to do. So little time.

beauty & the feast.

This is a few weeks old, but how lovely does Gwyneth Paltrow look in August's Vogue?





And how much do you want that sparkling, perfect kitchen?

ac-ci-dents.

It’s going to come out all right—do you know?
The sun, the birds, the grass—they know.
They get along—and we’ll get along.

Some days will be rainy and you will sit waiting
And the letter you wait for won’t come,
And I will sit watching the sky tear off gray and gray
And the letter I wait for won’t come.

There will be ac-ci-dents.
I know ac-ci-dents are coming.
Smash-ups, signals wrong, washouts, trestles rotten,
Red and yellow ac-ci-dents.
But somehow and somewhere the end of the run
The train gets put together again
And the caboose and the green tail lights
Fade down the right of way like a new white hope.

I never heard a mockingbird in Kentucky
Spilling its heart in the morning.

I never saw the snow on Chimborazo.
It’s a high white Mexican hat, I hear.

I never had supper with Abe Lincoln.
Nor a dish of soup with Jim Hill.

But I’ve been around.
I know some of the boys here who can go a little.
I know girls good for a burst of speed any time.

I heard Williams and Walker
Before Walker died in the bughouse.

I knew a mandolin player
Working in a barber shop in an Indiana town,
And he thought he had a million dollars.

I knew a hotel girl in Des Moines.
She had eyes; I saw her and said to myself
The sun rises and the sun sets in her eyes.
I was her steady and her heart went pit-a-pat.
We took away the money for a prize waltz at a Brotherhood dance.
She had eyes; she was safe as the bridge over the Mississippi at Burlington; I married her.

Last summer we took the cushions going west.
Pike’s Peak is a big old stone, believe me.
It’s fastened down; something you can count on.

It’s going to come out all right—do you know?
The sun, the birds, the grass—they know.
They get along—and we’ll get along.

--- Carl Sanburg, Caboose Thoughts

but you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins.

Songs for the weekend:

1) Marina & the Diamonds // I Am Not a Robot
2) Coconut Records // Nighttiming
3) Passion Pit // Moth's Wings
4) Belle & Sebastian // Judy & the Dream of Horses
5) Florence & the Machine // Cosmic Love

Activities for the weekend:

Wake up early. Run errands. Organize your life. Read in bed. Catch a movie. Have family visit. Blast music in the car. Dance a little. Visit museums. Eat a lot. Sleep well. Be thankful.

your one wild & precious life.

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

--- Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

regina the paper-back mummy.

The Flowers from Melanie Harris on Vimeo.

"The flowers you gave me are rotting
& still I refuse to throw them away.
Some of the bulbs never opened quite fully -
They might so I'm waiting
& staying awake."

birds of a feather.

One of this week's obsessions deserves a little more attention: prints by John James Audubon. A few years ago the National Gallery had an exhibit of his gorgeous paintings from The Birds of America and I fell in love.


"Today The Birds of America engravings and the brilliant watercolors upon which they are based are admired not only for their ornithological exactness, but also for their vitality and keen sense of design." --- NGA.gov

the small things.

A quick list of things that are making my life better this week:

+ getting up early to walk to work
+ hearing Elvis Costello in Whole Foods
+ vintage Audubon prints
+ Hieronymus Bosch paintings
+ "Like a Prayer" by Madonna
+ checking everything off on my to do list
+ adding a lamp to my cubicle
+ humidity
+ Betty Draper's scarves
+ Washingtonian

What about you?

is it strange that you perpetuate yourself?

"Everything is lost, uh oh.
But I know that you can take it to the Lord
Everything you want, uh oh.
Is it all that you can gather for yourself?"



"All that He has given to the world.
All that He has given to the world.
All that He has given to the world.
All that He has given to the world."

fresh flowers, good books, projects, & prettiness: summer.

More at alicebgardens.blogspot.com.

i find you stunning, but you are running me down.

May 6, 1957.

bon anniversaire.

Today is my birthday.

I have always believed that my 23rd year will be my best. I am old enough to be completely independent, but still revoltingly young. Old enough to have learned a thing or two, young enough to still have plenty more to discover. The perfect balance. And it cannot be wasted.

Here are my resolutions to make the most of this beautiful year:

+ learn when to say no. never be afraid to say yes.
+ make better use of my time.
+ gorge myself on bright accessories, pretty stationery, new music, & fresh fruit.
+ actually style my hair instead of relying on ponytails every day.
+ smile more.
+ look for more chances to help people in little ways.
+ . . . & big ones.
+ love openly, laugh loudly, & fight for the kind of life i want.


And many more on Channel Four!

vacation.

I want to get away so badly. I miss the Mediterranean. I'd settle for California.

They are both so far away.

rock & roll.

everything will turn out all right.

mrs. parker & the vicious circle.

Inventory

Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.

Four be the things I’d been better without:
Love, curiosity, freckles, and doubt.

Three be the things I shall never attain:
Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.

Three be the things I shall have till I die:
Laughter and hope and a sock in the eye.

--- Dorothy Parker (1926)

red lips & white pearls.

"Looking at yourself in the mirror isn't exactly a study of life."

--- Lauren Bacall

grandmaster luzhin.

"He burst in upon her as if he had butted the door with his head, and dimly catching sight of her reclining in a pink dress on the couch, he said hastily: 'H'llo-h'llo,' and strode all around the room, supposing that everything was working out very easily, wittily and entertainingly and simultaneously suffocating with excitement. 'And therefore in continuance of the above I have to inform you that you will be my wife, I implore you to agree to this, it will be absolutely impossible to go away, now everything will be different and wonderful,' and at this point he settled on a chair by the radiator and, covering his face with his hands, burst into tears. . ."

--- The Defense, Vladimir Nabokov, p. 103