trolling thefwa.com, intelligent banter and the general clatter of friends after a few cocktails, phone calls to michigan, WoW, HBO series from netflix, archive magazine, rereading books, monochromatic color combinations, NPR, movie trailers, dancing, big windows, power yoga, making online avatars, leaving my zipcode.
Yes, please, I'd like some more.
I netflix. Truly, it's endless and I'm far too tired to list it.
Oh, Hugh.
The girl, Emma Bovary, never existed. The book, Madame Bovary, will live on forever.
Vladimir Nabokov
the normal person falls in love, or reads Spinoza, and these two experiences have nothing to do with each other, or with the noise of the typewriter or the smell of cooking; in the mind of the poet, these experiences are always forming new wholes.
T.S. Eliot
Lovers readings of each other's bodies differs from the reading of written pages in that it is not linear. It starts at any point, skips, repeats itself, goes backward, insists, ramifies in simultaneous and divergent messages, converges again, has moments of irritation, turns the page, finds its place, gets lost... If one wanted to depict the whole thing graphically, every episode, with its climax, would require a three-dimensional model, perhaps four-dimensional, or, rather, no model: every experience is unrepeatable. What makes lovemaking and reading resemble each other most is that within both of them times and spaces open up, different from measurable time and space.
Italo Calvino
Elastigirl.