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summer ta-da! list;

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listen to cape cod kwassa kwassa while at cape cod.

take millie, the bike, down to the cape.

buzz my head. oh whoops. did that.

plan epic road trip.  (any good books i should download on my kindle for the trip? is it sad that this is my main concern?)**

concerts concerts concerts. regina spektor. the kooks. cake. two door cinema club. santigold. jukebox the ghost. laura marling.

take trapeze classes.

more swing and contra dancing.

rock climbing at m.i.t.

visit vermont= i’ve officially been to all of the northeastern states. and caused mayhem in all of them.
(that time i fell off crotched mountain in new hampshire. that time i bought chocolate wine at a quidditch retreat in maine. that time i pretended i dated someone who went to brown in rhode island. that time i forged an unlikely friendship with a boston squirrel.)

lavender lemonade + sangria drinking on the stoop. on the beach. on the curb. in a boat. in a house. in a tree. sam i am, i love sangria and lemonade. yeah.

decaffeinate myself (lolwhoops @ my iced turkish coffee + tweaking out hardcore at wired puppy).

pet all the bostonian puppies. all of them.  i think i’ve said “sorry to interrupt you, but i have to pet this dog really quick” to a friend at least 12 times. i even did that in the middle of a date. so, this is a very possible goal.

*ta-da! lists, like to-do lists but without all the dread! trademark mackenzie filson 2007-2012.

** also, if you’d like to do a guest post while i am in the midst of my travels down the east coast it would be much appreciated! email me at mackenzie{dot}filson{at}gmail{dot}com for info.

{berets and bongos} 67;

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“ ‘i feel there is an angel in me’ she’d say
‘whom I am
constantly shocking”

-lawrence ferlinghetti.

the concert bug;

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{because i am obsessed. and because this video is amazing}

i am a very faithful person. i can listen to the same song for days on end (it’s the only way i can write, to be honest. meaning i have listened to “simple song” over 300 times, yes). i obsessively have to make every concert for every band i’ve relentlessly listened to, even if i haven’t listened to them since i had braces, a live journal account, or wore snarky, cartoon-y wristbands from hot topic.

concerts and music, as i’ve found, are another reason why i’m 99% sure i am not a dirty hipster. phew. rather than feel a false sense of pride over knowing that band eons before you did, i’m SUPER pumped you listen to them too, so that way we can dance in annoyingly wide circles in a crowd of strangers at a concert for that band. and braid each other’s hair. and talk about boys. i mean, go to more concerts. yes, that.

i know now that when (not “if”! positive thinking! empowerment! believing in myself! yay!) i write books for people to read, it would be silly to not include a cd that captures the mood of the book in itself. right now i’m writing the nubs and giblets of what will become my bfa thesis for next year. i have a title (“i’m allergic to you, and other misadventures”). 98 pages of awkward stories. and a playlist of 24 songs that capture the stories’ feelings (okay, maybe i am a dirty hipster). i daydream often of giving my 200 (hopeful) page thesis to my advisor and as i close the door to his office i say ,”oh, there’s a cd taped to the back cover, too.”

and the daydream also ends in my advisor loving the josh ritter tracks on the cd a lot and we dance in circles at one of his concerts. and talk about boy (non-fiction authors). and braid hair (in a non-literal sense).

because i’m not a dirty hipster, listen to these gems:
“to the dogs or whoever (live from juan’s basement)”
“change of time” 
 (amazing video as well)
“good man” 

it’s official;

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yes, lady-friends and man-friends, it is true.

on june 28th, i will be embarking on a trip of my dreamz~*

no lie, only i would find it dreamy to travel for three weeks on a bus (said my mother, to me, on the phone last night as i spoke to her about the prospects of taking baby-wipe showers on the train).

but haters gonna hate,  from massachusetts to florida i shall go. with my mustard-colored boots, a go-get-’em attitude, and (most likely) a frightening case of bus ride-induced  b.o.

the itinerary is as follows:

new york city:
june 28th-july 1st.= pretty libraries. street-performers. lush grasses to prance on and pet city puppies.

philly:
july 1st-4th= brewskis with my broskis, and smothering my little nephew with keeses.

washington, d.c.:
july 4th-10th= my two friends are subletting a place above georgetown cupcakes (score), and prancing abouts the district with maya.

durham, n.c.:
july 10th-13th= seeing my old homeland, exploring duke gardens (haven’t been there since i was a wee-little kenzie.)

charleston, s.c.:
july 13th-july 17th= drinking all the mimosas and wearing straw hats on the beach with staceface.

atlanta, ga:
july 18th-20th= no idea! which is the best part of any road trip. most likely eating peachy things.

gainesville, fl.:
july 20th-22nd= swing dancing ’til the early morning with my platonic soul mate, kelli +causing a general amount of ruckus.

orlando.:
until the end of august! yay! homeland! gonna swim in all the lakes and  eat all the oranges!

any advice? playlists? friendly truck/bus-drivers i could befriend along the way? people to eat things with? things to do in these cities? ways to make me smell like a flower at all times?

a maine itinerary;

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fall in love with maine.

resolve to move there immediately.

that is all, folks, for maine is quite the ladykiller.

edit: and yes, that is chocolate wine and sparklers….when in maine…?

i am overflowing;

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the other day i was sitting in my bed, smelling my new ikea lingonberry candle,  stomach full of “swedish” cinnamon rolls. and i started shaking a bit.

my whole body was buzzing, not even from my new-found caffeine addiction.

or high fructose corn syrup lovingly dolloped atop the cinnamon rolls.

i was just so overcome with how fantastic everything is.

{berets and bongos} 64;

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“one grand boulevard with trees
with one grand cafe in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups.

one not necessarily very beautiful
man or woman who loves you.

one fine day.”

-lawrence ferlinghetti, recipe for happiness in khaborovsk or anyplace.

goodbye girl, a playlist;

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it’s that time of the year again. or rather, time of the week for me.

i get that itch to get going. i’ve gotten to the point that i check bus fares before i check my phone or facebook notifications ($5 trips to nyc?! free rides to montreal?!) my head spins and my duffel bag (that i asked for for christmas. yes, i asked for a heavy duty luggage for christmas) peers at me in fear.

daydreaming about prospectively taking a two-week road trip by bus down the east coast (75% sure at this point! eep!). about what items in my apartment i could sell off to pay for bus tickets.  about the fact that my friend canceled on our plans for tonight and i immediately checked to see when the next train to rockport/manchester/gloucester/anywhere-by-the-ocean at all was for today.

i’ve primed myself for a disgusting amount of  bus-travel and baby-wipe showers by cutting even more hair off and by making this playlist for those of us who find wanderlust to be a daily concern.

whose friends usually preface any conversation with a “so, where are you exactly right now?”

who get giddy by the sight of a well-packed suitcase (rolled shirts to save space + a full kindle + mustard boots + johnson &  johnson’s lavender lotion).

who love dramatically and thoughtfully and wistfully peering out of the windows of buses/trains/cars/airplanes.

for those of us who still don’t know how to sit still.

{feed the mackenzies} 5;

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earl grey chocolate cupcakes with creamy vanilla frosting.

okay, wipe the drool off of your sundress. get yourself together, woman.

these cupcakes were both a literal and metaphorical mouthful when i told the guests at my 21st birthday that they would be the lucky recipients of these bad boys. plus lavender lemonade. plus this recipe of witches brew (yes, it’s sangria. and no, i will never stop calling it witches brew, ever).

yes, i am accepting offers to be on the guest list of my 22nd birthday. stand behind the velvet rope, please.

regardless, i dreamt about these cupcakes for months. i usually plan parties because i want to merit a new, crazy-seeming baking project + have twenty willing victims to taste-test it. ergo, earl grey chocolate cupcakes.

guys, i cried when i put one of these in my gullet. after i put the (shockingly bright green) frosting with purple zombie sprinkles on top of it, it was beautiful. it was like getting a back massage while watching “the princess diaries” and someone is feeding you a bowl of pasta, all at the same time. that kind of beauty.

but really, this recipe was deceptively simple. i dare you to mess this up. and then feed me the “mess ups”, because they will still be delicious.

1. take your favorite chocolate cake recipe (vegan or not, the one in this cookbook is my favorite. i also got my lavender lemonade recipe from here).

2. grind up six packets worth of earl grey tea in a coffee grinder until it’s a fine powder.

3. fold in to cake batter, bake according to directions. ice to your liking (i use the basic recipe from isa chandra, goddess of vegan baking). i think lavender icing would be BOMB on this kind of cake, but i was too lazy to make two lavender-y sweet treats. first world problems, much?

4. win the admiration and praise from all of your friends and immediate family members. bask, homegirl. bask in it.

and remember; pinkies up when eating these cupcakes, darling.

other feed the mackenzie posts:

versunkener apfelkuchen (german apple cake)
cinnamon apple crisp 
pumpkin cake with cranberry glaze
creamy vegan (spicy as shizz) tomato soup 

sixteen candles and blog news;

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{as celebration of this momentous day, i went deep into the disney vault to find a video i made about blogging with my mom’s dog, oliver, back when i still had hair. bask in the awkwardness with me.}

anyone notice anything different?

yup. whatever, gatsby is all grow’d up! she’s got her own domain name and everything. after nearly three years of ownership of what i often call “my baby”, i figured it was time to get rid of my pampers and do the deed.

i sort of feel like molly ringwald when she observes herself in the mirror to see if she looks  or feels different in “sixteen candles”.

i didn’t get “boobies”, per se, but i feel a different air about my little space in the interwebs. and i didn’t have to get felt up by a grandma to get to that point plus no one forgot my birthday in the process. and i’d call that a win.

so update your readers, dearies! that is, if you still enjoy getting a fresh plate of , what i hope is enjoyable, poetry, ramblings about me being creepy, and twilight zone references. because that shizz is timeless, right?

 

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