HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Monday, March 17, 2008 spring and summer done fishing! home in ithaca again. overfed (hell, yeah.) happy. on saturday, we saw the first robin of my spring, and discovered the first buds. also, i received notification today, that the shop that is holding on to my coat has re-opened--so my winter coat will be retrieved!-- and i am staying in the states for summer :) all this news falling on me today like the glorious manhattan sunshine on washington square park. the city's no longer mythical, just another lovely place with lovely faces. i'm thinking of the city colored with radiohead's weird fishes, eating in a cavern at midnight, honey mustard chicken salad and tzatziki with flatbreads, the world's craziest sundaes. rachel and yuanyuan in the backseat, looking out at the lights. i sat in dean & deluca's on university place, nursing a steamer, amongst the nyu grad students, the clackety-clack of macbooks reading coetzee's disgrace, saying hey, to the bespectacled man reading yesterday's new york times, feeling absolutely pretentious, absolutely city, absolutely alone, and remembering sitting here once, also with a macbook beside munir. i walked by one of the city's oldest bars, and the crowd was already queuing to get in at noon, green facepaint for st. pat's. i'm home so soon, perhaps it was all just a dream. "that's why it's lonely, multiple homes, because you can never truly enter into the particularities of either, you can never truly return. also a mark you've become a true individual," said leon. word. leon never fail to puts things in perspective. leon, of a flat by the hudson river, with buddhist carpets and an israeli flag on his ceiling. what a great guy. if only he didn't smoke so much. posted by dawn # 11:04 PM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] green dragon day lovely arcana imperii traveling memories beautiful sunset mister sun beautiful so sweet, and so cold the raven [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Monday, March 17, 2008

spring and summer

done fishing! home in ithaca again. overfed (hell, yeah.) happy. on saturday, we saw the first robin of my spring, and discovered the first buds. also, i received notification today, that the shop that is holding on to my coat has re-opened--so my winter coat will be retrieved!-- and i am staying in the states for summer :) all this news falling on me today like the glorious manhattan sunshine on washington square park. the city's no longer mythical, just another lovely place with lovely faces. i'm thinking of the city colored with radiohead's weird fishes, eating in a cavern at midnight, honey mustard chicken salad and tzatziki with flatbreads, the world's craziest sundaes. rachel and yuanyuan in the backseat, looking out at the lights. i sat in dean & deluca's on university place, nursing a steamer, amongst the nyu grad students, the clackety-clack of macbooks reading coetzee's disgrace, saying hey, to the bespectacled man reading yesterday's new york times, feeling absolutely pretentious, absolutely city, absolutely alone, and remembering sitting here once, also with a macbook beside munir. i walked by one of the city's oldest bars, and the crowd was already queuing to get in at noon, green facepaint for st. pat's. i'm home so soon, perhaps it was all just a dream. "that's why it's lonely, multiple homes, because you can never truly enter into the particularities of either, you can never truly return. also a mark you've become a true individual," said leon. word. leon never fail to puts things in perspective. leon, of a flat by the hudson river, with buddhist carpets and an israeli flag on his ceiling. what a great guy. if only he didn't smoke so much.

posted by dawn # 11:04 PM

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