Hey everyone! I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!
Today I'm going to have a dinner party and I'm making some good sweet potato fries and buttermilk cake! Along with things that actually constitute a main meal.
Anyway, like I always say, I still have so much to talk about and catch up on. And now I have French Thanksgiving dinner to add to that list.
So, I promise to have three new posts by Monday that actually summarize travels and more events in France (like the multiple manifestations that happened today, for example). I promise promise. And that way my blog will have more than songs and poems that I like.
I love you all so much and am so thankful for you!
And I'll have three new posts soon. They will be study breaks from my incredibly homework-filled/events-I-go-to-when-I-should-be-writing-papers-filled weekend.
And, to finish, another song I like.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tony Hoagland
Sometimes I wish I were still out
on the back porch, drinking jet fuel
with the boys, getting louder and louder
as the empty cans drop out of our paws
like booster rockets falling back to Earth
and we soar up into the summer stars.
Summer. The big sky river rushes overhead,
bearing asteroids and mist, blind fish
and old space suits with skeletons inside.
On Earth, men celebrate their hairiness,
and it is good, a way of letting life
out of the box, uncapping the bottle
to let the effervescence gush
through the narrow, usually constricted neck.
And now the crickets plug in their appliances
in unison, and then the fireflies flash
dots and dashes in the grass, like punctuation
for the labyrinthine, untrue tales of sex
someone is telling in the dark, though
no one really hears. We gaze into the night
as if remembering the bright unbroken planet
we once came from,
to which we will never
be permitted to return.
We are amazed how hurt we are.
We would give anything for what we have.
Sometimes I wish I were still out
on the back porch, drinking jet fuel
with the boys, getting louder and louder
as the empty cans drop out of our paws
like booster rockets falling back to Earth
and we soar up into the summer stars.
Summer. The big sky river rushes overhead,
bearing asteroids and mist, blind fish
and old space suits with skeletons inside.
On Earth, men celebrate their hairiness,
and it is good, a way of letting life
out of the box, uncapping the bottle
to let the effervescence gush
through the narrow, usually constricted neck.
And now the crickets plug in their appliances
in unison, and then the fireflies flash
dots and dashes in the grass, like punctuation
for the labyrinthine, untrue tales of sex
someone is telling in the dark, though
no one really hears. We gaze into the night
as if remembering the bright unbroken planet
we once came from,
to which we will never
be permitted to return.
We are amazed how hurt we are.
We would give anything for what we have.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
She once drew a line across the world and back
I should be reading Camus right now. But I like this song.
This weekend I saw a really bizarre play, talked with my host grandparents who are in town, listened to my host mom's choir concert, did not update my blog as much as I should have, did tons of homework, and just kind of rested in attempts to get rid of a bad cold. Tomorrow (Sunday) I'm going to a food and wine convention and doing more homework. And thinking of Aundrea who is running her first half marathon! Good lucky girly!
This weekend I saw a really bizarre play, talked with my host grandparents who are in town, listened to my host mom's choir concert, did not update my blog as much as I should have, did tons of homework, and just kind of rested in attempts to get rid of a bad cold. Tomorrow (Sunday) I'm going to a food and wine convention and doing more homework. And thinking of Aundrea who is running her first half marathon! Good lucky girly!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Poems and Sleep
I'm quite tired right now and need to go to bed. I have so much to write about though--a trip to castles, a trip to Krakow, and a trip to visit Jason and go to a ball at Oxford! I hopefully will update sometime soon. Unfortunately, however, I'm going to be extremely busy these next two weeks, so we shall see.
Anyway, I have another blog that I randomly put poems in, but this one was just so pretty I thought I would put it in this blog, since people sometimes read this one, and the other one is just more for me to keep a record of poems. So, if you like poetry, here is a new ee cummings one I just stumbled upon. The first few stanzas are a little melancholy, but the last one is just so beautiful. Speaking of beautiful, Nantes is starting to be decorated for Christmas and there are plenty of sparkling garlands, white houses for the Christmas market, and a large carousel being set up all over town.
You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)
You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.
But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.
Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.
e.e. cummings
Anyway, I have another blog that I randomly put poems in, but this one was just so pretty I thought I would put it in this blog, since people sometimes read this one, and the other one is just more for me to keep a record of poems. So, if you like poetry, here is a new ee cummings one I just stumbled upon. The first few stanzas are a little melancholy, but the last one is just so beautiful. Speaking of beautiful, Nantes is starting to be decorated for Christmas and there are plenty of sparkling garlands, white houses for the Christmas market, and a large carousel being set up all over town.
You are tired,
(I think)
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me, then,
And we'll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)
You have played,
(I think)
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
Just tired.
So am I.
But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.
Ah, come with me!
I'll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I'll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.
e.e. cummings
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