White Nationalism’s Deep American Roots

The Cat in the Hat and The Man Who Made That

The Weight I Carry

Will You Stay with Me Until I Die?

Tayari Jones on Bookworm

Juana Olga Barrios | Sayulita, 2019


In truth I am puzzled most in life
by nine horses.

I’ve been watching them for eleven weeks
in a pasture near Melrose.

Two are on one side of the fence and seven
on the other side.

They stare at one another from the same places
hours and hours each day.

This is another unanswerable question
to haunt us with the ordinary.

They have to be talking to one another
in a language without a voice.

Maybe they are speaking the wordless talk of lovers,
sullen, melancholy, jubilant.

Linguists say that language comes after music
and we sang nonsense syllables

before we invented a rational speech
to order our days.

We live far out in the country where I hear
creature voices night and day.

Like us they are talking about their lives
on this brief visit to earth.

In truth each day is a universe in which
we are tangled in the light of stars.

Stop a moment. Think about these horses
in their sweet-smelling silence.

Jim Harrison | Songs of Unreason, 2011


I ♥ my yoga studio.

Forever + ever . . . ♥

I sure did . . . ♥

FRIDA @ The Brooklyn Museum

Cut it close, but close counts in this situation. FRIDA! ♥ ♥ ♥


I’ve been inspired by and cooking from Yotam Ottolenghi’s books for years, but as of last night, I have a new crush. Carla Lalli Music’s fantastic Where Cooking Begins not only has some wonderful advice on how to shop, how to stock your pantry, and how to master very basic techniques in the kitchen, her voice is funny, irreverent, and really smart. I’ll be working my way through both of these all summer.



The mental pictures I have of my parents and grandparents and my
childhood are beginning to break up into small fragments and get
blown away from me into empty space, and the same wind is sucking
me toward it ever so gently, so gently as not even to raise a hair on my
head (though the truth is that there are very few of them to be raised).
I’m starting to take the idea of death as the end of life somewhat harder
than before. I used to wonder why people seemed to think that life is
tragic or sad. Isn’t it also comic and funny? And beyond all that, isn’t
it amazing and marvelous? Yes, but only if you have it. And I am starting
not to have it. The pictures are disintegrating, as if their molecules were
saying, “I’ve had enough,” ready to go somewhere else and form a new
configuration. They betray us, those molecules, we who have loved them.
They treat us like dirt.

Ron Padgett | Collected Poems, 2013

Juana Olga Barrios | Primitivos

Playing with Venetian plasters.

Our minds are all we have. 
They are all we have ever had. 
And they are all we can offer others . . . 
Every experience you have ever had 
has been shaped by your mind. 
Every relationship is as good or as bad as it is 
because of the minds involved.
~ Sam Harris