September 2010
45 posts
Heavy Energy
“Heavy energy,” is how my friend E referred to the creative atmosphere in Paris. She said this as we hoovered bowls of Vietnamese noodles in Belleville with a fast concentration that was anything but heavy. Hearing her say it felt good. Heavy energy made sense. Or maybe it was “dark energy.” I forget now. But either way, it put a name to what I have been experiencing over...
For the win!
Yesterday, I did a post in honor of Ancestor Appreciation Day. Frisky staffers told some stories, and readers left comments about their own family histories. These comments win:
“…some ancestor of mine who was named Moses Christmas.”
“My grandmother’s oldest sister went to Hawaii during WWII and ran her own brothel, where another aunt worked as a call...
I just started reading Murakami’s The Wind-up Bird Chronicle. The first sentence:
“When the phone rang I was in the kitchen, boiling a potful of spaghetti and whistling along to an FM broadcast of the overture to Rossini’s The Thieving Magpie, which has to be the perfect music for cooking pasta.”
This is the sentence that made me want to quit writing, or even trying....
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Things I have had to explain to the French boy today: Shamu, Skittles, Reese’s Pieces. And it’s only 10 o’clock. There is so much work to be done.
Explaining Shamu
Me: If we go to San Diego, then we can go to the zoo! Oh! And Sea World! Oh my God, Sea World is awesome. We can see Shamu.
French Boyfriend: Shamu?
Me: Uhm yes. SHAMU.
French Boyfriend: What is a Shamu?
Me: Do you seriously not know who Shamu is? How do you not know this?
French Boyfriend: No I don't know what this is.
Me: It's a whale. America's most lovable whale. AND HE IS AWESOME.
French Boyfriend: A whale? Mais non.
Me: No, seriously, you don't understand. Shamu is AMAZING. And, like, the most famous whale in the world.
French Boyfriend: Mais, babe. A whale can't be si awesome que ça.
Me: Yes. He can. I can't even believe we're having this conversation. I can't believe you insulted Shamu. Shamu!
