1. Offer the wolves your arm only from the elbow down. Leave tourniquet space. Do not offer them your calves. Do not offer them your side. Do not let them near your femoral artery, your jugular. Give them only your arm.
2. Wear chapstick when kissing the bomb.
3. Pretend you don’t know English.
4. Pretend you never met her.
5. Offer the bomb to the wolves. Offer the wolves to the zombies.
6. Only insert a clean knife into your chest. Rusty ones will cause tetanus. Or infection.
7. Don’t inhale.
8. Realize that this love was not your trainwreck, was not the truck that flattened you, was not your Waterloo, did not cause massive hemorrhaging from a rusty knife. That love is still to come.
9. Use a rusty knife to cut through most of the noose in a strategic place so that it breaks when your weight is on it.
10. Practice desperate pleas for attention, louder calls for help. Learn them in English, French, Spanish: May Day, Aidez-Moi, Ayúdame.
11. Don’t kiss trainwrecks. Don’t kiss knives. Don’t kiss.
12. Pretend you made up the zombies, and only superheroes exist.
13. Pretend there is no kryptonite.
14. Pretend there was no love so sweet that you would have died for it, pretend that it does not belong to someone else now, pretend like your heart depends on it because it does. Pretend there is no wreck — you watched the train go by and felt the air brush your face and that was it. Another train passing. You do not need trains. You can fly. You are a superhero. And there is no kryptonite.
[I would deny in any out-loud conversation that cosmic connections exist; that somewhere there is someone with whom I am entangled. but I secretly go on believing that I wouldn’t feel like this if it wasn’t at least possible that something intangible and inexplicable links us. that’s just a little secret I have with myself.]
I began making this list for a friend who is considering going mostly veg for the summer. a fine decision! of course, the occasional hamburger, bacon wrapped scallop, or pulled pork sandwich is a necessity, but when it’s crazy hot outside, focusing on veg-only recipes can really simplify things in the kitchen. here are a few of my favs, mixed in with a healthy dose of I plan to cook that…. eventually recipes:
hazelnut + chard + ravioli salad (I’ve made this with pierogis, whatever tough green was available at the grocery store, whatever nuts I had on hand, and sweet potatoes instead of butternut squash)
caramelized tofu + brussels sprouts (I made this for a friend who was, at the time, decidedly an omnivore, and she now asks me to cook it a few times a year. it’s simple, quick, and requires few ingredients, all features I look for in recipes.)
stir-fried snow peas with soba (I’m going to give you a tip here: just follow the recipe. I have a habit of substituting ingredients without pause, but this one really requires that you just use the ingredients indicated in the recipe. of course, you can replace snow peas with most any other veg, and even add more veggies, but don’t pretend you’re better than this peanut sauce recipe, because you’re not.)
finally, my very favorite easy, filling, healthy recipe:
sweet potato quinoa black beans (I use canned) cottage cheese or plain yogurt arugula parmesan cheese
cook sweet potato (I typically cook mine in the microwave), quinoa, and black beans (I usually use canned, so they’re pre-cooked). mash the sweet potato (unless you don’t want it mashed). put as much or little of each as you’d like into a bowl. top with arugula, then cottage cheese, then parm.
[this may be the greatest recipe ever created. it’s incredibly easy, and you can cook the relevant ingredients ahead of time so it’ll be ready when you walk in the door. eat cool in the summer or hot in the winter. it’s pretty, nutritious, and simple.]
“Understand that everyone has 1,000 pages of bad fiction in him or her, and before you can do anything, you probably have to just write your thousand pages of crap.”—
Jennifer Finney Boylan’s advice for you aspiring authors. Jennifer started her writing career as James Boylan, writing such bestselling novels as author of the novels The Constellations (1994), The Planets (1991), and Getting In (1998), and then became the first bestselling transgender author in 2003 with She’s Not There: A Life in Two Genders. Check out the full interview. (via newsweek)
[this makes me feel much better about forcing my shitty, feel-y writing all over the place at whomever chooses to read it here]
today, maybe because I’m feeling friendly, I’m going to let you in on two little secrets:
(1) yesterday, congress passed a simple resolution to designate july 28, 2012 national day of the american cowboy. the more you know, right?
(2) for those of you poly sci majors, the politically inclined, and, really, any of you who plan to remain in these united states for the foreseeable future, you should check out govtrack.us, a pretty cool website that provides comprehensive legislative tracking. if you subscribe, you can, for example, receive a daily email with information on major changes to all federal legislation. they also provide state-level legislation tracking. at first I thought it might be completely worthless, like my daily groupon emails, but I actually find myself glancing through it on a pretty regular basis. politics is definitely not my strength, but the emails include enough information that even someone with a pretty limited background could kind of figure things out. it’s neat to see how a bill becomes a law in action.
ok, I’ve taught you enough for today; back to interesting, if useless, stories, pictures of pretty dresses, and inspirational quotes.
“But we’re here now and for that we’re infinitely blessed. You get to feel the cherry blossoms in your hands. Swim in cold water while the sun rises and warms your shoulders. Make love and cry because you’re sad or cry because you’re happy and never have to explain, because the tears stain all the same. You get to grow and dance and drink and see the world in every place you travel to. See birthmarks on your skin develop into patterns that mirror constellations if only you’d look long enough. I’ve got Orion on my thigh and your back’s just one mark short of Cassiopeia.”—eva faber | we are all made of stars (via)
so. many. bugs. so many that I can’t possibly let them bother me, because if I did, I’d spend all day and night panicking about bugs.
between dusk and whenever I go to bed, there are maybe one hundred hanging around my lamp.
it’s quite common for bees to come and chill for a while in the afternoon.
a few days ago I noticed this hornet-like creature flying into my bedroom through the patio door, across the room, and behind a painting on the opposite wall. it came out a minute or two later and flew away. this happened maybe three times before I looked more closely and saw that it was carrying a green worm out of the hole. then it dropped the worm and did the whole thing again. AND AGAIN. bugs.
especially cats. it seems like every single house has a cat. when you walk down the street, they all walk off their front porches toward the sidewalk, looking for some love. I once saw one on the roof of a three-story building.
lots of deer that aren’t spooked easily. you can get pretty close to them before they run off.
I once saw three skunks while running hills on cornell’s campus. three skunks. when I saw the first one, my initial instinct was to become enraged that someone let their dog off its leash (it was dark and difficult to see). while standing three or so feet away, I looked around for its owner. then I looked back down and noticed the white stripe.
I’ve been swimming in the area where the waterfalls make a pool at the bottom, and I swear I felt something touch my legs. a while later I saw a dead snake and dead crayfish along the edge of the water a bit farther downstream. needless to say, I immediately called my grandmother, with whom I definitely spent many childhood summers running barefoot in similarly nature-y areas, and she reassured me that nothing in the water will kill me. boom.
hills. ohmygod hills.
I live in town, which is surrounded by hills. cornell’s campus is to the east, and it’s just one big hill. think san francisco, but instead of up and down, it’s just up and then up some more. and then continue going up. when you feel like you may die because you weren’t expecting to climb a small mountain in a summer dress and sandals while carrying fifteen pounds of books, you’re almost to the top.
ohmygod just so many creepy men.
in an otherwise pretty empty coffee shop, a man sat at a table across from and maybe three feet away from mine, turned his chair so his eyes were directly facing my eyes, then proceeded to stare at me for a solid twenty minutes. every time I looked up from my computer, his eyes were looking directly at my eyes. I finally just burst out laughing, pretended I read something funny on my phone, then packed up and left.
a married man stopped me on a trail during my run to ask if I would get a drink with him and, after declining three times, I finally agreed out of pity. toward the end of our drink (I ordered chamomile tea — I wanted to send a message), he asked if I was “matrimonially attached” (i.e., married), said he thought we should have a fling, asked if I would join his open relationship, then told me (as I was rushing out to escape this likely serial killer) that I should be honored that I was the first person he asked. good luck with that, dude.
I joined a meet-up website and indicated that I was looking to meet someone (anyone) who would like to explore the area a little, as I know zero people, am here for six more weeks, and have only my feet and the bus system as modes of transportation. I received this message in response: “as chance may have it, I am in ithaca till july end, and in mood for exploring as well. canoeing and berry-picking were on my to-do — might be entertaining to try. do wear your shades, lest my being endlessly lost in your olive green eyes — by far the prettiest I have seen all day.” what. the. crap. and then I closed my account and decided I’ll probably just settle for never meeting anyone ever again.
It’s hard not to feel sometimes like you’re running around in circles, trying to distract yourself with a new partner or a trip to somewhere new and exciting, like you can’t ever stand still. I want the infatuation of learning something new, of discovering something about myself, the thrill of the small joys that don’t cost anything and don’t require anyone else’s presence. I want to be infatuated with myself, to feel like I am enough, and I so rarely do.
I want that falling feeling, that obsessive interest with all that’s around me, with all that I’m capable of. And most importantly, I want that infatuation to come from not where I’m standing, not from who I’m standing with, but from just how beautiful my life is on its own, from how wonderful it is to be alive, how much I am worth just by myself.
Authored by Council Member Dan Garodnick, the bill will allow sidewalk cafes to open at 10 a.m.—two hours earlier—on Sundays. Restaurants today are prohibited from opening their sidewalk cafes before noon on Sundays, despite being able to open in the morning every other day of the week. “New Yorkers will not be denied their Sunday brunch in the beautiful weather,” said Council Member Dan Garodnick, Chair of the City Council’s Committee on Consumer Affairs. “This regulation is outdated, widely disregarded, and hostile to business and brunch-loving New Yorkers. It needs to change.”