cooking, reading, artforum and sometimes artnews, living above the poverty line, thrift shopping, singing in spanish, googling, birol ünel, breakfast in bed, bold prints and bright colors, the chelsea piers, salsa, bitforms, snobby beer, cheap wine, sleeping in so late that i feel good but not guilty, ny times online, , taking a vacation, under presents, other various/sundry things
my bahamavention
orishas, afro-funk, the arcade fire, air, kinky, tosca, dj spooky are some current selections
chaos, city of god, head-on, battle of algiers, sex and lucia, habla con ella, best in show, the big lebowski, babel
the office, iron chef, grey's anatomy, house, the travel channel, the discovery channel
It was love at first touch rather than at first sight, for I had met her several times before without experiencing any special emotions; but one night, as I was seeing her home, something quaint she had said made me stoop with a laugh and lightly kiss her on the hair—and of course we all know of that blinding blast which is caused by merely picking up a small doll from the floor of a carefully abandoned house: the soldier involved hears nothing; for him it is but an ecstatic soundless and boundless expansion of what had been during his life a pinpoint of light in the dark center of his being. And really, the reason we think of death in celestial terms is that the visible firmament, especially at night (above our blacked-out Paris with the gaunt arches of its boulevard Exelmans and the ceaseless alpine gurgle of desolate latrines), is the most adequate and ever-present symbol of that vast silent explosion. (nabokov)