today begins my two month hiatus from all but a very few leisure activities. posting will be sporadic, but please don’t leave — I’ll be back so soon!
in the meantime, I’ll definitely be providing plenty of subpar iphone shots of the scenery as I run, the occasional feel-y ramblings, and a few links to articles that are more interesting than the various subjects I’m studying.
I don’t normally post about food here — my typical meals are extremely simple (for lunch today I had a can of sliced beets, an Annie’s individual microwaveable mac and cheese, and a million pickles) — but I have to (HAVE TO) share this with you:
—— The Best Smoothie in the Entire World
Go to a store that sells home goods and buy an individual smoothie maker or an immersion blender. (In fact, I’m judging you a little bit because you don’t already have one, but if you need some recommendations, I’m happy to help.)
Fill it with: half a banana about three quarters of a cup of almond milk three-ish shakes of cinnamon two-ish shakes of chili powder
Top with a shake of salt. ——
besides being freaking amazing, this thing is an awesome after (or before) work-out electrolyte explosion. so put down your unreasonably expensive coconut water (especially the chocolate — are you really trying to go into hyperglycemic shock?) and try this.
you know how sometimes you want to go shopping, but that voice in the back of your head reminds you that those new clothes were probably sewn by blind, fingerless infants who are chained to a floor made of concrete and fire and paid five cents a year? check out ethical ocean. maybe that will help.
“I bought stacks of books, but I didn’t read them. I taped sheets of paper to the wall, but I didn’t draw. I slid my guitar under the bed. At night, alone, I just sat and waited. Once again I found myself contemplating what I should be doing to do something of worth. Everything I came up with seemed irreverent or irrelevant.”—Patti Smith | Just Kids
before we all moved out of our college dorms, our front porches were made up of the steps leading to those blocks of bedrooms, where we’d smoke cigarettes and make out and pretend to be far more informed about philosophy and politics and the world than we truly were. we’d watch the sun set and then we’d see it rise from the opposite horizon. our first year on those pseudo-front porches anchored some of our most formative moments, solidified friendships that are now nearly ten years old.
as we moved away from the safety of shared bathrooms and university dining, we got real front porches. a blanket of catharsis and hope fell as we walked up the sidewalk toward a porch full of bodies spread out across donated, thrifted, and inherited porch furniture.
early in the evenings, we’d pile, side by side, onto a questionably procured couch, likely manufactured sometime in the 1980s. late at night, drinks in hand, we’d turn off the lights and lay flat on our backs in the dark, welcoming any breeze that would graze our sunburned skin and brush off the september heat. night after night, with music pouring from windows and doors, we’d buzz with youth and enthusiasm. our porches were for community.
throughout those years, we told secrets on our porches, disregarding the open windows above. our fingers and limbs intertwined on our porches. electricity lit us up, sparked between our chests as we pressed against one another on our porches. sweat trickled down from between our shoulder blades, the creases of our elbows, the backs of our knees, as we laughed and danced and loved on our porches.
as we got older, our porches grew to be greater than the naive cheer with which we’d been sheltered as children. always safe havens, our porches became places where we comforted those who’d been hurt, hugged friends who’d lost parents, wiped tears as dreams were crushed and loves went unrequited and the insecurities of age mounted around us.
porches were always our places for friends, but we found a way to appreciate their silence and solitude as well. after everyone went to bed, our porches were places for reflection. when we were the first to awaken, our porches were best enjoyed with music and a cup of coffee. more than wood and nails and paint, our porches became the annotations of our experiences; we learned and dreamed and grew on them.
we haven’t sat together on a porch in years; most of us don’t even have porches on which to gather. we’ve substituted our porches for windows that lead out to fire escapes, bars with sidewalk seating, blankets outstretched at parks, stoops linking studio apartments with city streets.
as far as we’ve moved from those memories, though, our names and hearts are forever etched into the panels of our porches.
I was out on the town so I came to your window last night. I tried not to throw stones but I wanted to come inside. now I’m causing a scene, thinking you need a reason to smile.
this is just so good. I love the crescendo during the bridge. it does an impeccable job inducing the exact feelings you’d have if you were standing outside her window, considering throwing a stone, wanting to come inside. gold.
to begin, a question: a recent study shows that male mice who are fed probiotics (yogurt) have larger testicles. obviously it isn’t clear that this translates perfectly to human males, however early research suggests that human males may experience similar effects. so… is this something that’s desirable among men? I mean, I’m obviously aware that there are some size concerns regarding other areas of the, ahem, bathing suit area, but do men actually concern themselves with testicle size? [I always have anonymous asking available, so feel free to reply anonymously. I just need to know!]
I bet you didn’t know this, but apparently, in New York, women can be topless anywhere men can be topless. it surprises me that we don’t see more topless women roaming the streets, but perhaps this article on topless sunbathing will incite others to follow in the author’s footsteps.
remember that guy who cut off the head of a fellow passenger on a Greyhound bus in Canada? he recently gave an interview in which he discusses his feelings on the incident (deep regret) and the cause (undiagnosed schizophrenia). fascinating.
we all know how much work the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation has done to promote the eradication of malaria. however, a new study shows that efforts like this may be offset by the proliferation of counterfeit malaria drugs, which now account for nearly one-third of pills made available for treatment.
In this moment, I have a crush on everyone. I want to keep them, to wrap myself in them and to not think. I could turn my pulsing, carousing, over-active brain off with any of them. It could be like summer all the time.
I think this is friendship or affection and I am confusing two different kinds of love, which is something I do sometimes. I think, either way, this is love though.
So that’s something.
gaby dunn | something is going to happen
[one of those pieces that, once you finish reading, you go back to the beginning and start again. it’s very, very good.]