tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1970130802082424432024-03-05T07:52:02.694-08:00etxerantz - toward homeemilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.comBlogger190125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-8235978128220270772010-05-14T19:27:00.000-07:002010-05-14T19:27:14.719-07:00my san francisco home<div><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia">Took a month to get everything all organized and decorated.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia; min-height: 19.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia">Another month to get the pictures up.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia; min-height: 19.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia">Just in case anyone out there still reads personal blogs, here's a peek into my teeny tiny studio in the city. It's about 250 square feet, less than half the size of my beloved home of 18 months in Palo Alto, but it's all the space I need, plus a 25-minute walk from the nephews and around the corner from great restaurants & parks, my SF surrogate parents, and all the mass transit vehicles I could ever want. Oh, and there's a huge avocado tree in the backyard. For reals.</p></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZCKXRgFSr7ZsaHVL2EU_pmYy1mhIFo5z9eeqMMdoKIlJXuyIXUno2PZ4gHlWrEdaI_kU3XcveeKWMg832R6SKkRj502Fp0D14ysB0-AQxtf2V7iB2uIoWFhYrcQiqI0zPXMwHCHnZGI/s1600/bedroomoffice.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZCKXRgFSr7ZsaHVL2EU_pmYy1mhIFo5z9eeqMMdoKIlJXuyIXUno2PZ4gHlWrEdaI_kU3XcveeKWMg832R6SKkRj502Fp0D14ysB0-AQxtf2V7iB2uIoWFhYrcQiqI0zPXMwHCHnZGI/s320/bedroomoffice.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316368995186562" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOHr1sSlSdXgOaVXglRznSegP5X-NDGlICofcGppmi5_ChMWyCQFOqOzMw7spMg2DHa2jCDedubCk8TaXqJAPaBOFtBlf1KRbm_0lI32lG6P2lGFCuZqwGA_b0XL2kTYAjU5QELycrnM/s1600/kitchenbedroom.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOHr1sSlSdXgOaVXglRznSegP5X-NDGlICofcGppmi5_ChMWyCQFOqOzMw7spMg2DHa2jCDedubCk8TaXqJAPaBOFtBlf1KRbm_0lI32lG6P2lGFCuZqwGA_b0XL2kTYAjU5QELycrnM/s320/kitchenbedroom.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316363907744770" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9MdQsZjn1w8bkipY9F8c5u81L4GaIPN4Rgjc5FNI9ci6UzsUdqhd09SHannW3-7hBWOEiuzUHH1W4zrXP4otJQqmyphPXWlvHHE7W0wa5u5D22hRYPY0DmFN0rj-HiIwuHVX8lzrjoA/s1600/kitchen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_9MdQsZjn1w8bkipY9F8c5u81L4GaIPN4Rgjc5FNI9ci6UzsUdqhd09SHannW3-7hBWOEiuzUHH1W4zrXP4otJQqmyphPXWlvHHE7W0wa5u5D22hRYPY0DmFN0rj-HiIwuHVX8lzrjoA/s320/kitchen.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316358218246866" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PSGr6pQsiu0ssp0kHJL9FzRhzu2yZiNFWoIVXWjMwk2TI3Edsf-pRI6nnO1-CDPW6aOoBnTw_WpmeqTENPP_ipDFkunvVuCfLO9hjFGOykEeZB8oVJbO5Vu1AtWqNWKubx28glUQtlU/s1600/fridgedetail.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2PSGr6pQsiu0ssp0kHJL9FzRhzu2yZiNFWoIVXWjMwk2TI3Edsf-pRI6nnO1-CDPW6aOoBnTw_WpmeqTENPP_ipDFkunvVuCfLO9hjFGOykEeZB8oVJbO5Vu1AtWqNWKubx28glUQtlU/s320/fridgedetail.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316354219536354" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mfSlAsNXno6QztGGjl50de9COTXz91BJWRoEwTavC2bPaj7g5URRKlHHuLzpKRbVDWY_A8y6ckllsl59aLumV-A0n3yEYaZN-Ef2NS_cY4DK83O113xpPVdFet1NX7bK1IKlLYJnZjc/s1600/kitchendining.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7mfSlAsNXno6QztGGjl50de9COTXz91BJWRoEwTavC2bPaj7g5URRKlHHuLzpKRbVDWY_A8y6ckllsl59aLumV-A0n3yEYaZN-Ef2NS_cY4DK83O113xpPVdFet1NX7bK1IKlLYJnZjc/s320/kitchendining.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316185196217346" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3FmK-ZcJhccu7z31bqyM4GtFhco5QQMwyFAMMY0oMSwROiLtj6zkkPBtvkKLv1QCYGWHa6WFQmeSe1BSrHAhChx-N9c41g-lhXi6vuRsjBBtgwxGgxW6wnb5aOBKehkicpqhl7gjhgCY/s1600/plant.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3FmK-ZcJhccu7z31bqyM4GtFhco5QQMwyFAMMY0oMSwROiLtj6zkkPBtvkKLv1QCYGWHa6WFQmeSe1BSrHAhChx-N9c41g-lhXi6vuRsjBBtgwxGgxW6wnb5aOBKehkicpqhl7gjhgCY/s320/plant.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316184298889730" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1RDZChDVxYxgeewL8-fqPW_Kp0cX1sq9u75ep6N4PoUg2GL5KoAfANsCa6vnKcVcUagtVlljk4qwUkhGQUTJ_w7u-0l2-i5QxTJHAcT1sQWrjk8XfHK1xWkEpjBaNo0xDaAKM0b8inU/s1600/bikemap.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO1RDZChDVxYxgeewL8-fqPW_Kp0cX1sq9u75ep6N4PoUg2GL5KoAfANsCa6vnKcVcUagtVlljk4qwUkhGQUTJ_w7u-0l2-i5QxTJHAcT1sQWrjk8XfHK1xWkEpjBaNo0xDaAKM0b8inU/s320/bikemap.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316177031760978" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGadxNftrIynk4nZN5yX6E5naLiGQlpMdxnFCMCi9p_XgKn9Ly6qP768Y0VZhbOM52aPwubZ9aeaMVXtcF0GS166eUPZmn64oiToqBOg3pW1kFjVrCrvh9uELfykjY8JoPt5L7c3Rcss/s1600/bed.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGadxNftrIynk4nZN5yX6E5naLiGQlpMdxnFCMCi9p_XgKn9Ly6qP768Y0VZhbOM52aPwubZ9aeaMVXtcF0GS166eUPZmn64oiToqBOg3pW1kFjVrCrvh9uELfykjY8JoPt5L7c3Rcss/s320/bed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316169854083698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3WO1ZUhr0uYcm-hL15DraxGC2-Vewxs6_aggI2kBOFwifdhCBW5lvfZfsZzNrXra1WPEy1Xf6fUuRzalQT065AdejbNmdNKbC2NKoCtraiIPPIIHLpmHaD8v5sw8ng3V6UeAh-44qh8/s1600/blikdetail.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP3WO1ZUhr0uYcm-hL15DraxGC2-Vewxs6_aggI2kBOFwifdhCBW5lvfZfsZzNrXra1WPEy1Xf6fUuRzalQT065AdejbNmdNKbC2NKoCtraiIPPIIHLpmHaD8v5sw8ng3V6UeAh-44qh8/s320/blikdetail.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471316167770710514" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 16.0px Georgia">Special credits go to: Ikea (furniture), Brady (moving incl. furniture dissembling & rebuilding), Claire (that awesome painting hanging on the wall), Blik (wall decals), Hortica (my very first houseplant), The Container Store (everything else. You should have seen me coming home on the Muni with my burden of 2 ginormous bags full of boxes, crates, drawer organizers, hanging shelves, and all manner of other, uh, containers).</p><div><br /></div><div>Who wants to come visit? If I move my bike into the hall closet, there's totally enough floor space for my air mattress, I swear.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-23138394993220517962009-11-13T17:14:00.000-08:002009-11-13T17:14:50.996-08:00o canadaHey, remember how I went to Toronto—twice—and never showed you any photos? Yeah, I was thinkin' about that.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9qYdloJ_QA_3fDu95wfDhcEfaZPyZFT1HvXTWl0T7s8S8t1hCu7QPlMh9HpW4k8BPumTrstOMLhulngeuCT3t6hEEBmv6cMgG_fqUMTsv8hsNB0XVI0gAqhPIzQ1ap6b1tcwGFS1e3I/s1600-h/toronto_march09.jpg"></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9qYdloJ_QA_3fDu95wfDhcEfaZPyZFT1HvXTWl0T7s8S8t1hCu7QPlMh9HpW4k8BPumTrstOMLhulngeuCT3t6hEEBmv6cMgG_fqUMTsv8hsNB0XVI0gAqhPIzQ1ap6b1tcwGFS1e3I/s1600-h/toronto_march09.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 400px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY9qYdloJ_QA_3fDu95wfDhcEfaZPyZFT1HvXTWl0T7s8S8t1hCu7QPlMh9HpW4k8BPumTrstOMLhulngeuCT3t6hEEBmv6cMgG_fqUMTsv8hsNB0XVI0gAqhPIzQ1ap6b1tcwGFS1e3I/s400/toronto_march09.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403756020291437170" /></a>March 2009. Clockwise from top left:</div><div><ul><li>This is not a harmonica.</li><li>Aged copper, University of Toronto</li><li>Freezing my butt off. + stone bird</li><li>764, Queen St West</li><li>Warmer jacket, new hat, still freezing my butt off. + CN Tower</li><li>I like numbers, U of Toronto</li></ul></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9EWlLGqYbJ-4MuG83q6MnY_A9BwPv52zbXGrlrXMFMQ6mBxv-8KOIMmreEUIvNzORWH4kIbX314fMfdRY1J4CWsfVXL_uF2B0WKVIHFHqrPt7hlT7huXaYrT3U8D32lWEEs9Wtq6hys/s1600-h/toronto_september09.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 351px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU9EWlLGqYbJ-4MuG83q6MnY_A9BwPv52zbXGrlrXMFMQ6mBxv-8KOIMmreEUIvNzORWH4kIbX314fMfdRY1J4CWsfVXL_uF2B0WKVIHFHqrPt7hlT7huXaYrT3U8D32lWEEs9Wtq6hys/s400/toronto_september09.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5403756016360375314" /></a><br /></div><div>September 2009. </div><div><br /></div><div>Top row, left to right:</div><div><ul><li>Fish + bike, Yonge St</li><li>Lofts, Distillery district</li><li>Streetcar, Eaton Centre</li></ul></div><div>Second row:</div><div><ul><li>Picnic tables, Toronto Island</li><li>Shop window, Eaton Centre</li><li>Royal Ontario Museum</li></ul></div><div>Bottom row:</div><div><ul><li>The Boiler House, Distillery district</li><li>Shop window advertising</li><li>Lampshade, community swap stand, Toronto Island</li></ul></div><div><div><br /></div></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-51962151124444739612009-10-26T19:31:00.000-07:002009-10-26T19:32:03.255-07:00file under: wtf<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWmZP1kiG2F5zRyz7bP3Iu-mJontr7IMh7U6X6gEh9J9IjWiNr_Z-lCkmLEkBjrlZxL-WtgGfqjf4og8oZg3Ff9IVGJkOaidCYlYIWqYfRk2geSgSC9X9ZazEqnNYl3eRECM9WlQGE6A/s1600-h/billyschwinn.png"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWmZP1kiG2F5zRyz7bP3Iu-mJontr7IMh7U6X6gEh9J9IjWiNr_Z-lCkmLEkBjrlZxL-WtgGfqjf4og8oZg3Ff9IVGJkOaidCYlYIWqYfRk2geSgSC9X9ZazEqnNYl3eRECM9WlQGE6A/s400/billyschwinn.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397101079558337570" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>Spotted <a href="http://cgi.ebay.com/Schwinn-Traveller-Mixte-Blue-traveler-47cm_W0QQitemZ120485469138QQcmdZViewItemQQptZRoad_Bikes?hash=item1c0d7e5bd2#ht_1443wt_1167">on ebay</a>. No mention of whether or not mini-president is included. I'm assuming yes.</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-46807257977340305222009-10-21T20:55:00.000-07:002009-10-21T20:55:07.323-07:00ready, set... no, forget set... just goI'm not typically a reckless person.<div><br /></div><div>But lately, my hasty decisions have turned out to be really good ones.</div><div><br /></div><div>For instance:</div><div><ul><li><a href="http://etxerantz.blogspot.com/2008/08/theres-something-magical-about.html">moving to California</a> without a job or much of a plan of any sort</li><li>signing on a <a href="http://etxerantz.blogspot.com/2008/10/settling-in.html">studio apartment</a> practically on the spot</li><li>buying a <a href="http://etxerantz.blogspot.com/2009/05/nevermind-that-were-nearly-same-age.html">pretty purple bike</a> without really knowing how to ride it yet</li></ul></div><div>So I feel good about my decision—made no more than 3 weeks before the deadline—to apply for <a href="http://us.fulbrightonline.org/program_country.php?id=16#teach">one of these</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div>I hear back in January. Keep your fingers crossed.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Brazil_topo.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 395px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPu_pZ-2-WCp_3xXq9FpzMdg7qqo26zDK09fSlMNK73uFP55FV-9VGHaopv66t0fvWyJwkMTTJueECCX09phNBQ3emz7mDdmZiHieMustx1VFGvuaAfnUqrNlJiDQe78hIfU_dMSG0IPs/s400/Brazil_topo.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395266375835340242" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Brazil_topo.jpg">image source: wikimedia commons</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-89652127144766131052009-09-24T23:49:00.000-07:002009-09-24T23:49:22.089-07:00wenatchee, washington.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-yegOMqZQ1uVlUFsyk5cja9j-RrrbF52fre_ur7w-sIWZAgWc_3fb7Y0rn6gEAm4XtS0kNt4-e7gAkpXy23r7HxfADBOYsGvSNEcl6Qw68S5RTVIRwNWKUF3xSm4LVWb3kEbfanT0Ow/s1600-h/DSC06962%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-yegOMqZQ1uVlUFsyk5cja9j-RrrbF52fre_ur7w-sIWZAgWc_3fb7Y0rn6gEAm4XtS0kNt4-e7gAkpXy23r7HxfADBOYsGvSNEcl6Qw68S5RTVIRwNWKUF3xSm4LVWb3kEbfanT0Ow/s400/DSC06962%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385293411356430386" /></a>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-20473951532187445922009-09-24T23:44:00.000-07:002009-09-24T23:44:07.247-07:00cashmere, washington.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bPCAZjgmbqCeAx-tjF2vWFHkwRbVJisxnmFGzqAoCEp4VJHqq28YslX-VDSIL-xRYFb-0rfefjKa1-UsQmkL5Tkjy0ZX5mhGXuAaImQmLnHYJz5MeVbXKkr8xwevEPmXbvIYGUNyVUo/s1600-h/DSC06944%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2bPCAZjgmbqCeAx-tjF2vWFHkwRbVJisxnmFGzqAoCEp4VJHqq28YslX-VDSIL-xRYFb-0rfefjKa1-UsQmkL5Tkjy0ZX5mhGXuAaImQmLnHYJz5MeVbXKkr8xwevEPmXbvIYGUNyVUo/s400/DSC06944%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385292046416126258" /></a>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-40480992059131871302009-09-24T23:40:00.000-07:002009-09-24T23:40:59.492-07:00portland, oregon.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-MQvxE_FUucE6F3Ek3JakhEbFCCvJIpySqo3nbRbefD5TzW0S1ANgDuhhnDxJWcLNQLoXUSd1h3FKrhaihLwN6q09fa9K4RP8Fu2Qf1sOqCJsWsOnzP8wq1Zcp6uTz94v9ffKnkVUGU/s1600-h/DSC06596%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-MQvxE_FUucE6F3Ek3JakhEbFCCvJIpySqo3nbRbefD5TzW0S1ANgDuhhnDxJWcLNQLoXUSd1h3FKrhaihLwN6q09fa9K4RP8Fu2Qf1sOqCJsWsOnzP8wq1Zcp6uTz94v9ffKnkVUGU/s400/DSC06596%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385291213759981490" /></a>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-39013895172256249352009-08-05T01:37:00.000-07:002009-08-05T01:40:34.134-07:00photonostalgic<div>I was going through some old photos for a couple of different projects, and along the way I came across a few that I wanted to share. Well, mostly they just triggered memories of my own, but let's pretend we were all there and reminisce together, shall we?</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo40fM5UbPmpN1sTErCIqoqYc_w-ww3JUYLpaZ9g_Oeik5NTJTm8keQ2eUNeQIFglQaefbSKh-PNHQYl4rvqXZ5FnRO8uzKuI9LWpdUiYv5I-bq4Pw7YNM09nrTOMvMpEEaOjLXcNn8IA/s1600-h/DSC01768%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo40fM5UbPmpN1sTErCIqoqYc_w-ww3JUYLpaZ9g_Oeik5NTJTm8keQ2eUNeQIFglQaefbSKh-PNHQYl4rvqXZ5FnRO8uzKuI9LWpdUiYv5I-bq4Pw7YNM09nrTOMvMpEEaOjLXcNn8IA/s400/DSC01768%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366392418154493746" /></a><br /><div>Holy crap I'd forgotten how amazing those mountains were. And they were <i>right there</i>. I mean, <i>look</i> at 'em. They're about ready to eat those houses. Provo, Utah, December 2007.</div><div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4deRXlwyGMFQ1fnhQs9eJBAtrOUAZxUSJW9AReDg0C91XftHsxnN8404jUIFv7wnOnW9lxPq-9iiu75moXVTwWpxf0fhsHZpivdb_EzqZXSoGcEYerHUNN510fyS06JUcK_RHsX7jGS0/s1600-h/DSC01068%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4deRXlwyGMFQ1fnhQs9eJBAtrOUAZxUSJW9AReDg0C91XftHsxnN8404jUIFv7wnOnW9lxPq-9iiu75moXVTwWpxf0fhsHZpivdb_EzqZXSoGcEYerHUNN510fyS06JUcK_RHsX7jGS0/s320/DSC01068%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366392335178152978" /></a><div>Those stairs. How many hundreds of times I climbed those stairs. It was like 4am when I took this picture, some night shortly before I moved out of the Granary. Provo, Utah, August 2007.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4deRXlwyGMFQ1fnhQs9eJBAtrOUAZxUSJW9AReDg0C91XftHsxnN8404jUIFv7wnOnW9lxPq-9iiu75moXVTwWpxf0fhsHZpivdb_EzqZXSoGcEYerHUNN510fyS06JUcK_RHsX7jGS0/s1600-h/DSC01068%5B1%5D.jpg"></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssNr25nXNbtEMGhRlmZLRdbJ0Nt6TTIGNokiZg56Lbt_bcx1gB8PJlXvLUIeJVgjhVY3h4aTeMLnK_AlAP0HURAhhU9y8lg22nmHjeY9TVPEmJ7B_XMhatJMutMPfpeKw7HT4MKta-2w/"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssNr25nXNbtEMGhRlmZLRdbJ0Nt6TTIGNokiZg56Lbt_bcx1gB8PJlXvLUIeJVgjhVY3h4aTeMLnK_AlAP0HURAhhU9y8lg22nmHjeY9TVPEmJ7B_XMhatJMutMPfpeKw7HT4MKta-2w/s200/DSC01161%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366395817796782098" /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIrkLTsA8-irIB2djKZusQ7PUTOGyCRfoKmU6uOTePqhu80frw34K11-ZFpNzkx-_C2-NcoQvfzccxOITAWu7bqy8NiUmDn4m9Hv7x1ld98iE8jOEbMKOthk9jv1ADv1hVN61v18zUyok/s1600-h/DSC01161%5B1%5D.jpg"></a>I took a few of these odd self-portraits; it was probably another of those 3 or 4 in the morning deals. In my room at G5. See those flowers? I'd had them for at least three months at this point. I always keep them until they're totally kaputt; in some way they're almost more beautiful like that. Provo, Utah, August 2007.<div><br /><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNk2eex0h0jMS5T_wjBhNk9GJfTHBxLc8o7drcQvrdbr9a6bMMFNL9YTeM5dh8MB8TZfXugGfPPfGQDBnNMakp0hGirToSpzmc56-YPqQuYbnnjeZMCMSkRrFxfJX8HrumdyFZbSiNzos/s1600-h/DSC01161%5B1%5D.jpg"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2scWKVy5paEHTBrRbm1E4MBQMeDh0HaL5L1SoSk3GoBYpvjVTeLutwCvgtUHopIwJK7406pbSo-ktsoZXLePllp9bAhfo_c9G3GzNBX_4FkOtIIzroshnxX-sQPRg4eBen8BI2lulZ2s/s1600-h/DSC02765%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2scWKVy5paEHTBrRbm1E4MBQMeDh0HaL5L1SoSk3GoBYpvjVTeLutwCvgtUHopIwJK7406pbSo-ktsoZXLePllp9bAhfo_c9G3GzNBX_4FkOtIIzroshnxX-sQPRg4eBen8BI2lulZ2s/s400/DSC02765%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366391160384259490" /></a></div><div><div>This is where I went to Nature Camp several summers. We camped out on that lawn, made crafts in the pavilion in the background, and canoed on the lake (that was my favorite). Lake Elkhorn, Columbia, Maryland, June 2008.</div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vZbGUGX8FJHhfJ6P2ysCYWbGV0Ou0ApHaugwzxfv5CYiAKz2929tcV1hrVarGS6KlCSdpLo35m2PnLnOBXHEuK_kSHBES5nmx3koHHckxVnWf1M8atE_0A4tEVzagrfYEbrfbW37h90/s1600-h/chicagoclaire.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vZbGUGX8FJHhfJ6P2ysCYWbGV0Ou0ApHaugwzxfv5CYiAKz2929tcV1hrVarGS6KlCSdpLo35m2PnLnOBXHEuK_kSHBES5nmx3koHHckxVnWf1M8atE_0A4tEVzagrfYEbrfbW37h90/s400/chicagoclaire.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366388584585995826" /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vZbGUGX8FJHhfJ6P2ysCYWbGV0Ou0ApHaugwzxfv5CYiAKz2929tcV1hrVarGS6KlCSdpLo35m2PnLnOBXHEuK_kSHBES5nmx3koHHckxVnWf1M8atE_0A4tEVzagrfYEbrfbW37h90/s1600-h/chicagoclaire.jpg"></a>Beautiful Claire. Chicago, Illinois, October 2007. <div><br /></div></div></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-67132197953481755882009-07-22T23:44:00.000-07:002009-07-23T00:00:36.734-07:00fine twined linens<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">My mother has given me many things, including:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSlljvEjF__kVeD6Gv-rDwp_IU_1WmUiy_3jTqz1kl4vBzHmz8tHnJCb-If8TPGR8g7oN8lQR4q1mqY8moCzyKR1Rg_ghuFvP0fuTgoZzjGaVMK-N6GQuouiIZ-atc_C2QE1AJSdTzFI/s1600-h/FeetAndTextiles.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTSlljvEjF__kVeD6Gv-rDwp_IU_1WmUiy_3jTqz1kl4vBzHmz8tHnJCb-If8TPGR8g7oN8lQR4q1mqY8moCzyKR1Rg_ghuFvP0fuTgoZzjGaVMK-N6GQuouiIZ-atc_C2QE1AJSdTzFI/s400/FeetAndTextiles.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361539178307910818" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /> these legs and good taste in textile design<br /></span></pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8NVP88SJTZDPbufJi7LuSRjOI_Ww67X1xL1nnm88w-EW7LVCKWGEH6dTwuwzHDCw2PiWmuAU7-dlZCkSjYoCo4Q8Ixh3h-8PM6TWe4gT54uYYLbeH_m97YvSkvGQjgjBv-mif8zk3g0/s1600-h/FeetAndTextiles.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr8NVP88SJTZDPbufJi7LuSRjOI_Ww67X1xL1nnm88w-EW7LVCKWGEH6dTwuwzHDCw2PiWmuAU7-dlZCkSjYoCo4Q8Ixh3h-8PM6TWe4gT54uYYLbeH_m97YvSkvGQjgjBv-mif8zk3g0/s400/FeetAndTextiles.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361539013703659810" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br />also, these sweet Pumas and this gorgeous new duvet cover<br /></span></pre><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">which were exactly what I wanted for my birthday.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Plus, she threw in the matching shams and coordinating sheets, AND two surprises:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', fantasy;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pkXT_TOQ52QKShCiAr98YadASzz544a2LyXgfsrBGq3ucqZ67DOPNbcvkIHt_j5X6LVb8pAVUp-JVnUxqgWhGV0MLHWfl_CPymW6Fik5ioRVc_27zqJOrESE5sNGpHarrzo9H-gwcFY/s1600-h/RediWhipWoodland.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pkXT_TOQ52QKShCiAr98YadASzz544a2LyXgfsrBGq3ucqZ67DOPNbcvkIHt_j5X6LVb8pAVUp-JVnUxqgWhGV0MLHWfl_CPymW6Fik5ioRVc_27zqJOrESE5sNGpHarrzo9H-gwcFY/s400/RediWhipWoodland.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361538927007782018" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">How adorable is that? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Not to mention a plethora of throw pillows (she made the black&white covers herself).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWrViM3WMoCvbjggziUUEgoSYq6oQ13xZZr5VtsXh8FIRiKcnRHGoOgxkwuk84Q5EHWjVKzlBZkYlQIz3T3Oz7qb1PFdEPbLDbBggUgitXHzngIyP3bmoHYzS4NCE-28VXWcDRBzP-Ryo/s1600-h/PillowsMorePillows.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWrViM3WMoCvbjggziUUEgoSYq6oQ13xZZr5VtsXh8FIRiKcnRHGoOgxkwuk84Q5EHWjVKzlBZkYlQIz3T3Oz7qb1PFdEPbLDbBggUgitXHzngIyP3bmoHYzS4NCE-28VXWcDRBzP-Ryo/s400/PillowsMorePillows.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361535036055751458" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Thanks, Mom!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">(Now it's about time for me to crawl into that stylish bed. 'Night!)</span></div><div><br /></div></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-52671021176878720782009-07-15T20:16:00.000-07:002009-07-15T20:16:47.930-07:00so california right now<div style="text-align: left; ">So I'm at lunch today, devouring my delectable In-N-Out burger & fries on the sunny patio under the palm trees and hugging the freeway, and it strikes me just how very <i>california </i>this is.</div><div><br /></div><div>You know what I mean?<div><br /></div><div>Yeah. I'm still in love with this place.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/unsureshot/2147264223/"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vBYTIS7poK0AHAVPbab0YwRn55W3nqT-I2Sfv4QpvTU38Wx4nc6aQ8XHbStH41PenKONk9fj65wHaG1IUeIuwXk12vA43F8EBAeaAV4Lv0kzrFKKUbZA0m2HOvHCSwmqVgVxjO6ox4k/s400/2147264223_5306702446.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358891063576551138" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/unsureshot/">unsureshot</a> (flickr)</span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-3071061476815303912009-07-15T19:54:00.000-07:002009-07-15T19:54:30.627-07:00stick-on pixelsSo. My friend Emily (and I don't just mean one of my other personalities) alerted me to the existence of this little stop-motion gem, and I thought that you all needed to see it, too. <div><br /></div><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BpWM0FNPZSs&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BpWM0FNPZSs&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><div><br /></div><div>Seriously, neon post-its <i>and</i> Breakout <i>and</i> Röyksopp? Again I ask: can life <i>get</i> better?</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-8471192689897046472009-07-13T22:21:00.000-07:002009-07-13T22:22:25.040-07:00sunday breakfast<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhew1lVXpPUPclTEObefXVUjGM-YEA7G10xC2qsILC7TurP7Sdt47FI2_7iM0zzizaDJ0YBKUUbsYJjecjhhKd6uwE9_cFgcgkbEacHWH_cyfLz3IqyFlc9SGiYl5rbUv0wz3_RwCXhvv8/s1600-h/DSC06129%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 0 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhew1lVXpPUPclTEObefXVUjGM-YEA7G10xC2qsILC7TurP7Sdt47FI2_7iM0zzizaDJ0YBKUUbsYJjecjhhKd6uwE9_cFgcgkbEacHWH_cyfLz3IqyFlc9SGiYl5rbUv0wz3_RwCXhvv8/s320/DSC06129%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358178446388080834" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_v3DOhH3-Y_GW_VfJu3MolvmGDvoDWV7ChTeH3TjrklPrcmWm0URfZF33pRvyHLaSW89J_vfRv9E6wg9BiaYQXmQ5YCMoCXVdd63c1ZVP3nCMaOqbV9UxFRHjIt_YDiME6gT2L0kvLU/s1600-h/DSC06131%5B1%5D.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 0 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 194px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv_v3DOhH3-Y_GW_VfJu3MolvmGDvoDWV7ChTeH3TjrklPrcmWm0URfZF33pRvyHLaSW89J_vfRv9E6wg9BiaYQXmQ5YCMoCXVdd63c1ZVP3nCMaOqbV9UxFRHjIt_YDiME6gT2L0kvLU/s320/DSC06131%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358178377480181250" /></a><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Variations on a stone fruit theme. Both were first-time experiments. The one on the right is a recipe from Grandma* Bittman; the one on the left, which is the one that graduated to Sunday evening barbecue, came to me in a dream. Or so I say.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*not really my Grandma, but merely an affectionate term for Mark Bittman, author of the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">How to Cook Everything</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> books. No malicious or derisive intent; only the result of a moment of stupidity/inventive listening when I confused Bittman with Joseph's grandmother. That didn't really clear it up, did it.</span></div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-69396523794193264702009-07-13T03:15:00.000-07:002009-07-13T03:17:21.755-07:00hold on just a second don't tell me this one you know i know this one i know this song i know this one i know this song<div><div>So. I'm currently floating on the aftereffects of one of the best weekends of my entire life. Seriously. It was like a non-stop party. And not the kind that makes me claustrophobic and sends me dissolving into a corner. It was, however, the kind with many much musics (not to be confused with many much moosen).</div><div><br /></div><div>Friday night was populated with salsa, cumbia, bachata, and my personal favorite merengue. Lesson 1: always say yes to a night at the salsa club even though you went to bed at 4am the night before. Lesson 2: sometimes it may be best to keep your mouth shut and not let on that you speak Spanish. Lesson 3: eventually the inebriated Nicaraguan who wants your phone number will settle for your hotmail address, and everyone goes home safe and happy.</div><div><br /></div><div>Saturday night saw epic performances by Ra Ra Riot, Andrew Bird, and Death Cab. As you can probably imagine, I went mostly for Andrew Bird. And he did not disappoint. Nothing short of phenomenal, in fact. Since none of the little video that I got is good enough (i.e., I was too impatient to hold up the camera for more than 30 seconds and/or the microphone picked up my neighbors' chatter better than the music) to bother uploading it, you'll just have to trust me on the amazingness factor. Or go see him for yourself. I highly recommend the latter.</div><div><br /></div><div>Just say the word, Andrew, and I will run away with you <i>and</i> your sock monkey <i>and</i> your victrola.</div><div><br /></div><div>We sang happy birthday to him. While he was on stage, we got a wee bit of rain. Then this happened:</div><div><br /></div></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuIcDOhs67oTelJ5xL-hvS85u2ofV-J4MEiGq7HQPkLN4aZw1UwM9BZrz_uY7fu8FtuAsd_wXy6HK7ceA2S1zu1z1nLgi7_RqfD8fSPL5bCTadpr2zcBD9FWIfQqJnc-kiO32fZYwqOQ/s1600-h/DSC06124%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZuIcDOhs67oTelJ5xL-hvS85u2ofV-J4MEiGq7HQPkLN4aZw1UwM9BZrz_uY7fu8FtuAsd_wXy6HK7ceA2S1zu1z1nLgi7_RqfD8fSPL5bCTadpr2zcBD9FWIfQqJnc-kiO32fZYwqOQ/s400/DSC06124%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357883190608553730" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>And then there was Death Cab. And they were awesome. I've never listened to them particularly obsessively (as I have with many others), but I found myself singing along to most of the songs they played. Tons of fun. (There's a good deal of video from the show already up on youtube; just search for "death cab july 11 berkeley" or some such similar string, if you so desire.)</div><div><br /></div><div>After the concert we watched this wonderful documentary called <a href="http://www.youngatheartchorus.com/film.php">Young at Heart</a>. Cackle-and-guffaw-out-loud funny, and beautiful in so many ways.</div><div><br /></div><div>Here's a taste:</div><div><br /><object width="600" height="486"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CjnfoFg7i7g&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CjnfoFg7i7g&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>You should watch it, too.</div><div><br /></div><div>Then there was Sunday, highlighted by barbecued goodness, a new friend, a special visit from an old friend, and a motorcycle ride. Not to mention the freakin' gorgeous Palo Alto weather. </div><div><br /></div><div>Plus, I got to talk on the phone to Claire, Joseph, Mom, Dad, <i>and</i> Vanessa. </div><div><br /></div><div>Can life get better? <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtLVFV40cTA">I submit that it can</a><i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CtLVFV40cTA">not</a></i>!</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-91279876470765812282009-07-10T07:49:00.000-07:002009-07-10T07:49:00.508-07:00i've been dealing with extreme gravityA few months ago a friend of mine who is really into techno music introduced me to a couple of artists that I liked immediately (as well as other flavors that didn't quite do it for me). Later, based on the likes of <a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Sasha">Sasha</a> and <a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Bluetech">Bluetech</a>, <a href="http://www.pandora.com/">Pandora</a> turned me on to the Texas-born, Detroit-based <a href="http://ghostly.com/artists/matthew-dear">Matthew Dear</a> (yes, <a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Sufjan+Stevens/_/Oh+Detroit,+Lift+Up+Your+Weary+Head!+(Rebuild!+Restore!+Reconsider!)">lift-up-your-weary-head Detroit</a>).<div><br /></div><div>Enough iterations of "<a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Matthew+Dear/_/Death+to+Feelers?autostart">Death to Feelers</a>" and "<a href="http://www.last.fm/music/Matthew+Dear/_/Fleece+on+Brain?autostart">Fleece on Brain</a>" (dig those throaty vocals) and the sound had decidedly moved into its own cozy corner of my head. Once I began hearing it from the inside, it was time to buy the album. And proceed to listen to it obsessively, of course.<div><br /></div><div>The Asa Breed Black Edition album includes this "Don and Sherri" video, which you can also watch over the internets courtesy of last.fm:</div><div><br /><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://cdn.last.fm/videoplayer/33/VideoPlayer.swf" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=9,0,0,0" id="lfmEmbed_50_4559422_1683246255" width="340" height="289"> <param name="movie" value="http://cdn.last.fm/videoplayer/33/VideoPlayer.swf"> <param name="flashvars" value="title=Don+and+Sherri&uniqueName=4559422&albumArt=http%3A%2F%2Fuserserve-ak.last.fm%2Fserve%2F34s%2F3602612.gif&duration=202&image=http%3A%2F%2Fuserserve-ak.last.fm%2Fserve%2Fimage%3A320%2F4559422.jpg&album=Asa+Breed&creator=Matthew+Dear"> <param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"> <param name="allowNetworking" value="all"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"> <param name="quality" value="high"> <param name="bgcolor" value="000000"> <param name="wmode" value="opaque"> <param name="menu" value="false"> </object><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Just try and tell me that's not sexy.</div><div><br /></div></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-50443079774033394692009-07-09T22:46:00.000-07:002009-07-09T22:47:01.850-07:00still life with bottles and mini-blinds<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmyhPeNRBahzuldyxOQ6toTrz4-mzty8b2FmEY9BvIHKkWF4VSHSvyZIzzVphTzpTS50RoBPVzKfZOfTUydmu1tNoicyaDh4it6OxO6tAn4iHw9woxRI79Ibj-yQQeZYH3Kehqjde6Xg/s1600-h/DSC06109%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmyhPeNRBahzuldyxOQ6toTrz4-mzty8b2FmEY9BvIHKkWF4VSHSvyZIzzVphTzpTS50RoBPVzKfZOfTUydmu1tNoicyaDh4it6OxO6tAn4iHw9woxRI79Ibj-yQQeZYH3Kehqjde6Xg/s400/DSC06109%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356703427210527010" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>This is what happens when you go shopping at Whole Foods at 9:30pm with only a vague impression of what you are shopping for.</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-85357809834854367182009-07-08T19:33:00.000-07:002009-07-08T19:33:37.143-07:00two reasons why i love california in the summer1. Outdoor yoga.<div><br /></div><div>Once a week I end the work day with yoga class, on a shady spot of lawn outside tile-roofed, arcade-lined building with a Spanish name on a peaceful, idyllic campus. Bliss. Then when I come home I feel like dancing. And I usually do. Like an idiot. But you'll have to take my word for it, since there are as of yet no witnesses to this phenomenon.</div><div><br /></div><div>2. Fresh apricots.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I was growing up—wait. I'm still doing that. Let's try that again: when I was a kid in Maryland, we always had dried apricots in the pantry. Always. Many a school lunch included a little sandwich bag (or snack bag, once they became available—remember how great they were?) full of dried apricots. Though I never grew to flat-out dislike them, I often tired of them. Every once in a while I wondered why other kids seemed not to come from environments so heavily saturated with dried apricots.</div><div><br /></div><div>At the time of year when fresh apricots became available in the stores, Mom would always bring some home. But she was never satisfied. They were never as good as her memories of the fresh apricots of her California youth. I never understood what the fuss was about. I mean, I've always loved fresh fruit. Even in the days (and they were many—sorry Mom&Dad) when my <i>I-will-eat-this</i> list contained about fifteen specific items, fruit was always acceptable. But fresh apricots never impressed me. The ones I tried at home in Maryland were for the most part bland, mealy, or worse: both. I didn't see the point, but Mom kept buying them, kept trying and hoping that they would live up to her expectations of the apricot in its most exalted form.</div><div><br /></div><div>Well. Mom: my apologies. Now I understand.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>PS: if in the course of your grocery shopping you happen to see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Two_angelcots.jpg">angelcots</a>, get them. They are called <i>Saintly</i> with good reason.</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-25931488693530682782009-07-01T23:15:00.000-07:002009-07-01T23:15:30.817-07:00we can still afford to not make sense at all<div>Fanfarlo: a British band with a Swedish frontman and a name that may well be Esperanto. Never heard of them? Neither had I.</div><div><br /></div>On Monday, NPR began streaming Fanfarlo's new album, <i>Reservoir</i>, as part of the All Songs Considered "Exclusive First Listen" series. <div><br /></div><div>I listened. <a href="http://twitter.com/emilyadavis/status/2407620896">I liked it</a>. A lot. So I bought it. For a dollar. And it was totally legal. </div><div><br /></div><div>The musicians, "in the spirit of 'why not,'" as they put it, are offering a download of their new album for US$1 until July 4th, after which the CD & vinyl will hit stores.</div><div><br /></div><div>Check out this video of Fanfarlo playing "Finish Line" in an English garden (naturally). For more, hear the whole album <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=106055982">over at NPR</a>, and find more audio and video plus the $1 download at <a href="http://fanfarlo.com/">the band's website</a>.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="400" width="400" id="TSWidget4390" data="http://cdn.topspin.net/widgets/bundle/swf/TSBundleWidget.swf?timestamp=1246425458" bgcolor="#000000"> <param value="always" name="allowScriptAccess"> <param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"> <param name="quality" value="high"> <param name="movie" value="http://cdn.topspin.net/widgets/bundle/swf/TSBundleWidget.swf?timestamp=1246425458"> <param name="flashvars" value="squality=HIGH&pid=UGKR2PY1&widget_id=http://cdn.topspin.net/api/v1/artist/855/bundle_widget/4390?timestamp=1246425458&theme=black"> <param name="wmode" value="transparent"></object></div> <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Guess which one I have a crush on.</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-11107339596527984022009-06-08T23:57:00.000-07:002009-06-09T00:53:55.585-07:00sun-readingTwo of my favorite pastimes from childhood: <div><br /></div><div>(1) whiling away the hours lost in a book (and, being the world's slowest reader, I can take care of a lot of hours with just one book)</div><div>(2) tumbling in the backyard (when I wasn't on the balance beam or sprinting toward the vaulting horse at the gym)</div><div><br /></div><div>I wish I could still do those things, whenever I wanted.<br /><div><br /></div>Yesterday afternoon I spent a few hours in a grassy field, enjoying the sunshine and one of the Murakami novels I had picked up at the library the day before. There may have been a few handstands and cartwheels in there, too. It's hard to say for sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just finished the book. It was my fifth Murakami title in just a couple of months (see note re: world's slowest reader, above). I have two more waiting for me on my bookshelf, and I intend to get my hands on all of his published (and translated—since I don't read Japanese) work before year's end. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm addicted.<br /><div><br /></div><div><div>I could, if I tried, craft a passable explanation of why Haruki Murakami's narrative is so gripping. I could analyze his techniques of character development, explore the effects of his writing's structural and stylistic characteristics, offer a few examples of his especially inventive imagery, attempt to bring to light the underlying themes that are at once repulsive and magnetic, absurdly particular and painfully universal.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's what I've been trained to do, after all.</div><div><br /></div><div>But I won't.</div><div><br /></div><div>Having an academic background in literary analysis helps me to appreciate more deeply the nuances of good writing, in other words, to wrap my head around the form of what I already sensed with my intuition. But one thing that's really nice about reading books outside of school is that I can just read them and enjoy them without having to explain to anyone else why I like them or, more precisely, how and/or why the author achieves the effect that he does with his writing. Ugh. See what I mean?</div><div><br /></div><div>My point is: Murakami is a gem of a fiction writer. So far I love his work. You might not. And that's okay. And I won't ask you for a detailed analysis explaining why. But I'd say it's worth a try. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">H</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">ard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World</span>, as recommended to me, is a good one to start with.</div><div><br /></div></div></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-87624208530383962092009-06-07T19:13:00.000-07:002009-06-07T19:55:50.042-07:00okay, okayEvery once in a while, when the planets are aligned just right... I go to relief society and, in spite of myself, find it a little bit wonderful.emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-3566245356620394352009-05-20T21:53:00.000-07:002009-05-20T21:53:43.051-07:00nevermind that we're nearly the same age<div><div>My baby came home on Saturday, April 18, 2009. </div><div><br /></div><div>She is 29.5 inches tall and weighs—um, I have no idea, but she's light and speedy! </div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vltPjOI1kBWFZNOBUccw2vcEK6QVyP7UJzoMyVXFnYGm9A8YV7tevsLzOB16lwOKkuixjv28wmEzFMmOW2Lv2A2YetPPIZ1sgLE5G1SPOOY2L8G3L1JtLxlf2_IPrJHBR4oORZEPpaE/s1600-h/DSC05926%5B2%5D.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-vltPjOI1kBWFZNOBUccw2vcEK6QVyP7UJzoMyVXFnYGm9A8YV7tevsLzOB16lwOKkuixjv28wmEzFMmOW2Lv2A2YetPPIZ1sgLE5G1SPOOY2L8G3L1JtLxlf2_IPrJHBR4oORZEPpaE/s400/DSC05926%5B2%5D.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338133756852909890" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">[click to enlarge]</span><br /><div><br />Isn't she a beauty?<br /><div><br /></div></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-34586224017416807502009-05-11T18:29:00.000-07:002009-05-11T18:30:07.062-07:00clearly, i do not really know portugueseI just like to pretend that I do.<br /><br />Today it was brought to my attention that in my advertising a talk about a Brazilian film, I have been spelling the film's title in two different languages. It starts out in Portuguese just fine—<span style="font-style:italic;">Tropa de</span>—but abruptly switches to French—<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Élite</span>. <div><br /></div><div>Oops.<br /><br />Incidentally, the title of the talk does mention Foucault. So maybe I was just channeling him.<br /><br />For the record, I don't really know French, either. As with Portuguese, though, that doesn't always stop me from pretending that I do. </div><div><br /></div><div>And now that I'm talking about French, I just want to add: isn't Saint-Saëns such a perfect name for a French composer? It just sounds so <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">French</span> (this from the girl who only pretends that she speaks French), and with just a bit of imagination, the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Saëns</span> sounds something like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">song</span>. Plus, he wrote good stuff. So whenever I see or hear the name Saint-Saëns and I proceed to hear in my head that jaunty, guttural French laugh (I don't know how to spell it, but maybe Vanessa does? You know what I mean, right? Think Ha-ha-ha, only rhyming with Saëns), it is a gesture of endearment, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">mon ami</span>, and not of mocking.</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-40384402340727251152009-05-06T22:47:00.000-07:002009-05-06T22:49:30.521-07:00fellowshipping in the 21st century, or, why i still don't go to relief society<div>In my inbox this morning:</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIOo_ZI5qz5RZOcZamhrXUlRg30G2NvmG0b_wnkegGSRgi2Fzw2qmlX-rCt5VatWGmmpTqLHkSt6hxf9gYey8OcuuvPPQC03IeNmSwHg7Z_usDF5TWrCAupe71mWhvO6DPu9ES1Mval4/s1600-h/rsformemail.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 600px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHIOo_ZI5qz5RZOcZamhrXUlRg30G2NvmG0b_wnkegGSRgi2Fzw2qmlX-rCt5VatWGmmpTqLHkSt6hxf9gYey8OcuuvPPQC03IeNmSwHg7Z_usDF5TWrCAupe71mWhvO6DPu9ES1Mval4/s400/rsformemail.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332952887355375218" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Okay, okay, so I took a little itsy bit of photoshopetic license. But seriously, a form letter email? Yeah, that <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">really</span> makes me want to go next week.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's too bad they bcc'd us on this. I'd like to know who the other apostates are so that we could get together for some remedial sunday school.</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-41360368863310812122009-04-23T23:04:00.000-07:002009-04-23T23:04:25.808-07:00maybe pomegranate is passé by now<div>But this still caught my eye:<br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4fu91grPq_2gi2grEL_bQW8WZ5sXByzqcQBzQUqu7KWVHNmpq0yisqgSQktKQCI57aOPXBfydry_4e6m3UEavsmzTgYkryoMJ8kbD7ESyfINKL6BUVw0NFVZGtLnqQGO5seXdaPaob8/s1600-h/0421092032-00.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4fu91grPq_2gi2grEL_bQW8WZ5sXByzqcQBzQUqu7KWVHNmpq0yisqgSQktKQCI57aOPXBfydry_4e6m3UEavsmzTgYkryoMJ8kbD7ESyfINKL6BUVw0NFVZGtLnqQGO5seXdaPaob8/s400/0421092032-00.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328128219756439010" /></a><div><br /></div><div>Pretty, eh? (Besides the resolution. Sorry. Cameraphone.)</div><div><br /></div><div>It's really too bad I didn't decide to splurge on a bottle, because when I got to the checkout line the store's computers were down, and though I thought we were just going to wait a few minutes until they were back up, shortly thereafter the clerks started bagging groceries and sending us off, "whole paycheck" intact.</div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, this happened on the day I got totally boring stuff like onions and potatoes and cheap generic cereal, the only day I didn't have a single excessive item in my basket. Not that I'm complaining. Just observing.</div><div> <br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-12151545111280526872009-04-21T01:20:00.000-07:002009-04-21T01:20:14.519-07:00cello + macbook = awesomeYou know how I obsess over podcasts?<div><br /></div><div>Right. Well, lately I've become infatuated with <a href="http://www.radiolab.org">Radiolab</a>. I really don't want to kill its magic with an inferior description, so I will only say that it is acoustically self-conscious (in a good way) and always fascinating.</div><div><br /></div><div>My purpose here is not so much to tout the wonders of Radiolab, though; rather, I mention it because it's where I heard this stunning music by Zoë Keating. She calls it "layered cello." Listen to the show <a href="http://blogs.wnyc.org/radiolab/2008/08/25/quantum-cello/">here</a> (sorry, I tried to embed the Flash player, but Blogger wouldn't have it).</div><div><br /></div><div>And here's a cool video of the artist doing her thing:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rJiybW81mXA&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rJiybW81mXA&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Learn more about Zoë Keating and her music at <a href="http://www.zoekeating.com/">her website</a>.</div><div><br /></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-197013080208242443.post-39230199168325689842009-04-17T09:01:00.000-07:002009-04-17T10:31:23.184-07:00when negative space is poetic<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Times;"><div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "><div><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Sharpie-wielding cartoonist, writer, designer, and poetry revelator Austin Kleon has been on my radar for several months now. His style is to me one of raw vibrance, at times venturing into tidy chaos. His work conveys a sense of immediacy and of calm nonchalance, which together suggest that making art for this artist is as natural and essential as breathing. It reminds me that we are all artists with the capacity to create; sometimes it just takes a bit of extra effort to discover what one's inner artist wants to create, and what language it will use.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Look past the illusion of empty simplicity in Austin Kleon's drawings, and then among what appears to be clutter—but turns out to be mostly pure energy—you'll see that he's included exactly the right number of details. </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Take, for instance, this sketch of Andrew Bird's stage setup at an Austin City Limits taping last month. </span></span></p></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjzkCnPLScS1HVIiQQ3v6WxHT3AaP7f687ygAWuxJIfXzIOJlPGa7mZiI1iT0imHkmd8tjSVbQPDJKV_s1Bi_wSijqZXqpy0Xx5gw3CyGP0AyAlUDyxWQXcGAPhmsLcOTdGNQbR1ySLA/s1600-h/3380506129_dc0c8d7a58_o.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjzkCnPLScS1HVIiQQ3v6WxHT3AaP7f687ygAWuxJIfXzIOJlPGa7mZiI1iT0imHkmd8tjSVbQPDJKV_s1Bi_wSijqZXqpy0Xx5gw3CyGP0AyAlUDyxWQXcGAPhmsLcOTdGNQbR1ySLA/s400/3380506129_dc0c8d7a58_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325687003148798402" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 298px; " /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">by Austin Kleon (Licensed under Creative Commons. </span></span><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/deathtogutenberg/3380506129/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">image source</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">)<br /></span></span></div><div><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Black lines on off-white paper. Stage rim. Speakers, amps, microphones. Drumset. Keyboard. Lighting equipment and a twirly-swirly backdrop. Yet amid the typical items, the merely structural and the exuberantly expressive penstrokes, you'll see two important things: the iconic tape-looping double-phonograph turntable (I don't really know what to call that thing but it screams Andrew Bird) and what's that? yes, the sock monkey tour companion. How can you not love that?</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">As a side project, the Austin-based artist (yes, that's right. kind of like if I lived in Davis) started carving poems from newspaper articles with a black Sharpie marker. His Newspaper Blackout Poems caught the eye of the press (there's something charmingly meta about that) and took off. I won't rattle off the list of media mentions here, but suffice it to say that they're big. Oh, and HarperCollins is publishing a book of them, slated for release early next year. </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">You may know that April is National Poetry Month.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">What you may not know is that April is also International Newspaper Blackout Poetry Month.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">I finally got around to trying my hand at it. I foresee more experimenting (and maybe posting) in the future; for now, here are a couple of the initial results. They don't really make sense, and my Sharpie gave up the ghost halfway through the second blackout, so it ended up as a mixed media piece. Anyway, I hope that they inspire you, in the way that they make you say, 'Hey, I could do better than that.' And then you do.</span></span></p></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsAeM2i5fGwgysVFv2CGl_ZbZc4tB6aZvRRbYG39DHxfX0c_oogrJsbsH-4TfZNmw-bt-6QbrNQWvuB8CbAZJIIdcJHBA0MAumehqWvIoM6y3fpp7oaKg3HZXIIeMCZ6n9jrB9Cl_R8YI/s1600-h/theseparation.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsAeM2i5fGwgysVFv2CGl_ZbZc4tB6aZvRRbYG39DHxfX0c_oogrJsbsH-4TfZNmw-bt-6QbrNQWvuB8CbAZJIIdcJHBA0MAumehqWvIoM6y3fpp7oaKg3HZXIIeMCZ6n9jrB9Cl_R8YI/s400/theseparation.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325682129907510946" style="cursor: pointer; width: 217px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5Vgo01Yw_hCbhAJ6Ono72Uuhmm5WKgT7gA1zbMeJA1PosS20P3jMQP4OjxY4CWA0v_anjNt_l8Wu-m2P3GWOcS2WsrdsSli1UHyAE1-V_esnSZk4v27Nf7xFIArpOl3JI3Lw3CdV7s4/s1600-h/stopworryinglove.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-5Vgo01Yw_hCbhAJ6Ono72Uuhmm5WKgT7gA1zbMeJA1PosS20P3jMQP4OjxY4CWA0v_anjNt_l8Wu-m2P3GWOcS2WsrdsSli1UHyAE1-V_esnSZk4v27Nf7xFIArpOl3JI3Lw3CdV7s4/s400/stopworryinglove.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325682122534421650" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 210px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">If you want to see good Newspaper Blackout Poems, check out </span></span><a href="http://www.austinkleon.com/blog/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">Austin Kleon's blog</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">. He's posting a poem every day for the entire month of April. </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; min-height: 16px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';">And don't be afraid to unleash a black marker on a page from your local paper. If you live near a certain private university at the foot of a certain mountain range in a certain western state that on a map appears to be about to chow down on the unsuspecting state immediately to the northeast, please, get a copy of the school paper and go to it. I don't know how you can pass up that potential on the page of Letters to the Editor.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"> </span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; font: normal normal normal 14px/normal Georgia; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms';"><br /></span></p></div></div></span></div>emilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10153926301246648262noreply@blogger.com0