I'll meet you there.

retronewyork:

Girls playing, Lower east side of New York back in the 70’s
photo by Martha Cooper

retronewyork:

Girls playing, Lower east side of New York back in the 70’s

photo by Martha Cooper

(via oldnewyork)

Take this voice, take these hands.

It is late, and I am tired, and I probably don’t really have time to say a thing, but I am saying it anyway. I am craving music for autumn that reminds me of the tussle of gold and orange leaves in a breezy English wind, tossing rain clouds from one horizon to the other, but all the music I’ve got in my new mix is downtrodden, and reminds me of just the clouds that stay, stay all morning so that you have to get up and be alive without any promise that the sun is there somewhere being alive, too, the grey grey mornings with rain that even feels half-hearted.

I am currently staying in a beautifully decorated room on the first floor flat of number 8 on the Royal York Crescent, which is apparently iconic for Clifton, which is in Bristol, which is such a lovely, lovely city and I wish every time I come here that I lived here. Bristol fills me with a sort of flame. I look at the trees and the people and the lights and the architecture and the adorable independent cafes and shops, and I feel awake and intrigued. Exeter doesn’t really have any of that. I’ve been told Totnes is really cool, so maybe we just need to venture outside a bit more to see what else the south west has to offer.

Tomorrow I have a workshop to give at an education conference, and I spent the day at my school in Brislington, and my hands are dry and cracking, and my hair is still wet from my shower, and the rain just pounded on the trees outside and I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

This is all rubbish, but it’s the rubbish that I’ve got just now, and it’s been a long time since I’ve said anything, and no one reads this really, so it doesn’t even matter if I say it or not, but it feels nice to pretend like someone’s listening. 

Last night I got into Exeter around 11PM, and I rushed around to get things settled for my trip up to Bristol, and later to London, and the dog’s leash and harness and food, and in-between talking about deep stuff with PY, and finally settling down and petting my dog (whom I still love, even though he’s why we couldn’t live in Bristol) and I don’t think I properly fell asleep until 1.00AM or so, and Timmy started whining at 4.45AM, and so that’s like, not sleeping, really, and I had to get up just after 5.00 so I rolled out of bed and hazily got dressed.

I finished reading Why School on the train this morning, and then started working on a thing, and when the train pulled into the station, I really didn’t time it well, and rushed to get my things together, and the people were boarding as I was still trying to disembark, and I was so flustered, and had to pee, and was just thinking, pee, bus, and then I got into the toilet stall and was thinking, Why do I feel so light and buoyant? and with a sinking, shaking feeling of heavy onset anxiety I realized that my suitcase was still on that train. The one that just left and.

What do you do when you’ve gone and done the dumbest thing?

Well, I didn’t cry, because I am re-learning emotional suppression (yay England) and anyway, nice people were there to do constructive things to help out this stupid situation, and everything was sorted the best it could be, and obviously, retrieving my suitcase was now sort of a priority, so I emailed relevant parties, and had lots of time to think about why I probably should have just slept an extra hour instead of trying to catch the early train.

If you don’t give yourself a break and you really need one, I’ve found that the universe has a way of forcing us. You’ll catch a cold, or break a limb, or find yourself sitting in a room quietly focusing on the in-breath and out-breath as you wait for your suitcase to go to Bristol Parkway and come back.

Half an hour later, I had my suitcase, and a healthy breakfast of humble pie, and I was on my way. The rest of the day probably happened even better now that I had been properly nourished by the lessons of the universe, and I was listening to myself speak from my center, where the only thing that matters is us being the best alive we know how to be. I heard it come out of every pore. Faith came back, and hope, however, risky, and I don’t know that I am making any difference at all in my schools, but that’s silly because of course I am. But it’s just the sort of difference I’d be making anywhere else, but this is where I am, and I guess it’s where I’m needing to be.

I got an email from an old favorite student, and I smiled to be asked to write a letter of recommendation, and smiled to think of all the really amazing people I’ve had a chance to know for even a small amount of time, and sitting here now, alone in this lavendar room with orange accents, and soft blanket, and Anais Mitchell’s new album (which is not quite gold orange leaves, but maybe the fog rolling in over the fields in the early morning) and I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Just something, because there is so much, and you have to start somewhere.

ernietheweenie:

Ernie The Halloweenie

ernietheweenie:

Ernie The Halloweenie

(via dachshund-parade)

lapetitecole:

New York City, 1976 Elliott Erwitt

lapetitecole:

New York City, 1976 Elliott Erwitt

(Source: k-a-t-i-e-, via oldnewyork)


"The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up, as if orchards were dying high in space. Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."And tonight the heavy earth is falling away from all other stars in the loneliness. We’re all falling. This hand here is falling. And look at the other one. It’s in them all. And yet there is Someone, whose hands infinitely calm, holding up all this falling."
Rainer Maria Rilke
Painting: Egon Schiele, Four Trees, 1917

"The leaves are falling, falling as if from far up, as if orchards were dying high in space. Each leaf falls as if it were motioning "no."And tonight the heavy earth is falling away from all other stars in the loneliness. We’re all falling. This hand here is falling. And look at the other one. It’s in them all. And yet there is Someone, whose hands infinitely calm, holding up all this falling."

Rainer Maria Rilke

Painting: Egon Schiele, Four Trees, 1917

(Source: last-picture-show, via last-picture-show)

bewarethebibliophilia:

Champs Elysées, Paris, 1929. André Kertész: “At that time photography was zero—only the ordinary commercial kind of shots with little or no artistic value. Nobody photographed the chairs in the parks, in the Luxembourg Gardens, and in the Tuileries. I did. Of course, at that time I did not know that this was modern or unique.” From Kertész on Kertész.

bewarethebibliophilia:

Champs Elysées, Paris, 1929. André Kertész: “At that time photography was zero—only the ordinary commercial kind of shots with little or no artistic value. Nobody photographed the chairs in the parks, in the Luxembourg Gardens, and in the Tuileries. I did. Of course, at that time I did not know that this was modern or unique.” From Kertész on Kertész.

September in Review

image

  • PY, Timmy and I moved into our home in Exeter
  • Developing “favourites”: Coffee #1 vanilla lattes, Primark for home linens, Wilco for home goods, gü cheesecake (even though it is from New York… I never saw it until now), Cafe Nero americanos with cold milk, shortbread fingers with a cuppa, the Imperial always every time for a quick bite when you don’t want to cook, cream tea please, the continental part of continental breakfast at Penventon’s, mature cheddar cheese, baguettes with ham and cheese but especially the mozzarella and tomato baguette from Upper Crust, the Cadbury Dairy Milk bar with Oreo, Thatcher’s Gold, but especially Kopparberg mixed berry cider… especially if you want candy but you happen to be at a pub.
  • Bike rides in lovely weather
  • Exploring the underground passages of Exeter (and really, all the overground ones too!) with Cait, PY, & Timmy
  • Our “castle weekend” where we visited first Tintagel on the Cornish coast, and then Powderham Castle
  • Alcoholic ginger beer in Tintagel was also a big win, albeit way overpriced
  • Finished reading The Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling… I am still haunted by it.
  • Started my job more officially — only 5 school visits in the month of September, but with three schools and over a dozen different teachers
  • Went to PARIS and fell deeply in love with the wine, and the bread, and the cheese, and the museums, and architecture, and the gardens, and the way people just sit and chat and eat and read and I could seriously live there, like definitely, for sure. Paris should be its own list… we ate a little breakfast outside in the sun at a little cafe, visited the Lock Bridge, and the Louvre, and saw loads of famous artwork and loads of other artwork that is not famous but is beautiful, we ate at a cafe in the Louvre and treated ourselves to really expensive coffees, gelato in the park, shopping on the Champs d’Elysee, the Arc de Triomphe, the Eiffel Tower when the lights turn on and right at the turn of the hour when it sparkles for five minutes, quatre fromages pizza and wine, weathering wind and rain and shine, make-it-work moments and my first bad AirBnB experience, navigating public transportation in a country whose language you barely speak, fresh bread and pastries and eclairs, picnic in the Luxembourg gardens, nutella crepes in the park, discovering the hydrants of drinking water, a delicious steak dinner with fries and a glass of wine… red for me, and white for Cait, navigating cafes with people who spoke a different language, Pere le Chaise cemetery, watching Monte Carlo after a long day of visiting all those things IRL… it was wonderful.
  • Left Timmy with a pet sitter for the first time (eek!) and it was fine.
  • Hiking Lydford Gorge and viewing the Whitelady Waterfall with Cait and afterwards a perfect cream tea before the sky began to drizzle
  • Most delicious waffle ever at the Primrose Cafe in Bristol, and later, delicious dough balls and craft beer at O degrees.
  • Banksy art walk all over Bristol on Cait’s last day in England
  • Cait & I getting to watch all our favourite shows together
  • Also, getting to live with Cait for the first time in about 8 years (cray) 
  • Grown-up conversations with PY about who we’re supposed to become… and feeling, like, maybe… something is about to turn.
  • Checked off everything on my “When I move to England” list, including getting a phone plan (with unlimited data, thank goodness), setting up my bank account, setting up all of our utilities (PY did that… but still), securing a good GP, obtaining my NINo, and successfully logging onto my bank account via my fancy security remote
  • Also, officially don’t have cancer! 
  • Although, riding my bike on the way out of the hospital… fell off my bike and into my handlebars and bruised my ribs, so you win some, you lose some.

blackalleykat:

urulokid:

freddyskrueger:

toocooltobehipster:

3 year old death grip!

omfg

iM LAUGHING SO HARD BC THE BROTHER IS STARING AT HER LIKE “OMFG” AND SHES STANIDNG BACK THERE HOLDING HER HANDS LIKE “i never knew what i was capable of, my powers are here”

I just reblogged this yesterday but I had to do it again because it gets funnier every single time omg

I laughed until I cried.

(via epic-humor)

bibliolectors:

Librarian / Bibliotecaria (ilustración de Molly Cornelius)

bibliolectors:

Librarian / Bibliotecaria (ilustración de Molly Cornelius)

(Source: bibliocolors.blogspot.com, via yeahwriters)

explore-blog:

So much metaphor for life, the creative experience, and the human spirit in this 1970 interview with legendary choreographer Merce Cunningham. 

explore-blog:

So much metaphor for life, the creative experience, and the human spirit in this 1970 interview with legendary choreographer Merce Cunningham