Pablo Neruda

Sonnet XVI

I love the handful of the earth you are.
Because of its meadows, vast as a planet,
I have no other star. You are my replica
of the multiplying universe.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know
from extinguished constellations;
your skin throbs like the streak
of a meteor through rain.

Your hips were that much of the moon for me;
your deep mouth and its delights, that much sun;
your heart, fiery with its long red rays,

was that much ardent light, like honey in the shade.
So I pass across your burning form, kissing
you--compact and planetary, my dove, my globe.

-Pablo Neruda
Translated by Stephen Tapscott

The essentials

Because shopping has always been a passion of mine, and because I'm spending my own hard-earned cash (parental aid be damned), I've been making more fastidious choices on my purchases. There's so much that I want, but with better resources (ahem... dozens of thrift stores, sample sales, freebies, can I say more?) and a more astute knowledge of what really is worth spending on (and what's not) - I've honed my list to... two:

Perfume.

I've dabbled with Chanel Chance, Calvin Klein Euphoria, and Dior's Midnight Poison, but have never permanently stuck with one, because they're for uniquely different occasions: I've worn Chanel for friendly get-togethers, Calvin Klein for dancing, parties, and serious dinner occasions, and Dior for academic meet-ups to smell fresh, chic, and intelligent. Can perfume really complete our overall presentation, empowering us in each role we take in our lives? Can it bring out the multiple strengths within us? I certainly believe so.

Trenchcoats.

They're practically everywhere, but the perfect one is hard to find. I'm still looking for that simple, tailored, and tan "Audrey in Breakfast at Tiffany's" trench coat - a quality material and fit, but with a vintage feel. Because I'll be wearing this for years and years, I'm definitely willing to invest money in it, but I still have a college student's budget. Let's be honest here.

But quality and fit aren't my only concerns. Style is perhaps the first thing on my mind. There are professional chic trenches, trendy casual trenches, detective trenches, bohemian trenches - so many to choose from! For the cutest of the lot, check out Zara, Bebe, H&M, J. Crew, Esprit and Kenneth Cole (all conveniently located in downtown 5th ave or SoHo) or Burberry, Macy's, and Nordstrom (for pricier, Uptown selections). Or go to Gap and Old Navy, if you're not as selective. If money weren't an issue, I'd get a trench from Burberry in a second, but for the cash-limited, more research must suffice.

Zara trench


H&M trench


Mod Cloth wool trench


Lord and Taylor trench - only $103!

And, of course..

Burberry!

Absolutely divine.

stacatto

bluntness is refreshing this is true can you pregame for a pub for a party? live life in a steam take this muggy alcoholism or the calm point of a smoke staying up at night fighting poets in your dreams for two hours as tired as you may be serene butterfly queen of the damned i won't be amended or sewn into my costume with sangria stronger than it looks eighty bucks is my redemption to live and forget or feel remorse for what you understand and fucking nothing when you do finally this is the voice that tells me i am a force ringing everywhere i least expect pure vodka smothers and soothes at that point you make the choice to sleep for oblivion or soar to live as free as tiny birds drinking from muddy puddles on trees still rooted to their grounds spilling drinks like a fountain of deranged comfort is the scratching of your lipsy twang the absolute sense of the work we live for to live off of individuality you are a mystic muse write what you think and think what you say

baby don't cry

I just came back from a poetry open mic night and starbucks run. It was lovely. The readers were beautiful, tangly-haired hipsters, abstract ripping-paper-in-pieces-and-reading-the-shreds artists. I read cummings and Yeats, the last to stand. But I felt small, like I didn't belong in this bubble of a world, just as I don't fully belong in the business world, or the music world, or the art world. How unconventional is it to balance my loves for all three?
People seem so one-track these days, and I, multi-faceted and prone to wander, feel destined to be perpetually a chameleon.

Through it all, the song "Baby Don't Cry," from the movie "Waitress" has been in my head:

Baby don't you cry, gonna make a pie, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle.
Baby don't be blue, gonna make for you, gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle.
Gonna make a pie from heaven above, gonna be filled with strawberry love.
Baby don't you cry, gonna make a pie, and hold you forever in the middle of my heart.

I wish life were filled with more simple and sweet moments.

urban thrills under $20

Shopping at Urban Outfitters...




Suede Sweater Cuff Bootie - $19.99(Was $98.00)
Plaid Gauze Square Scarf - $20
Lana Sunglasses - $18
"In the Woods" necklace - $16
Sparkle and Fade Spandex leggings - $9.99

...just ordered the booties (I'm in love)

it's a shame

Things that make me sad (and old, and weary, and weak):
Listening to the theme of Schindler's List
Talking to a sad friend
Parents who don't understand their children
Men who grow old before their time
(Men who stay young past their prime)
The same mistakes repeated
over and over
and over.
Friendships choked by silence and an overgrown
lack of trying. Laziness.
Not having the time to run
Not making the time to run
Neglected pets.

feminine toils

girls, just remember
you can peel a man away from his show,
strip him of his friends, keep him on his toes,
turn him hot with your
fox-trottin' box o' tricks, seize
all his eyes on you --
that's nothing but the truth.

but you can never take away a man's
style.

Freedom

freedom is a gift
tissue-wrapped in tortilla-chipped tangy sauce
as tender as the inner veins of a peach skin.

freedom is a promise
to share with plenty –
naked parties in my vena cava
gyrating card games in the hallway
letting the red hearts fall where they may.

freedom is an invitation
a candle-lit doorway to a rhythmic explosion
an overspill of a closest information
as breezy as a coor's light sensation
and equally breathy…

all of us whispering life secrets
as we take one more shot of liquory fire,
freedom unwraps our presents:
slowly, escapes
our stories, tits, pleasures,
desires.

note: this is purely fictional! I have not partaken in any nude parties. ever.