“ ‘i feel there is an angel in me’ she’d say
‘whom I am
constantly shocking”
-lawrence ferlinghetti.
Tag Archives: favorites
{berets and bongos} 67;
{berets and bongos} 66;
“-tomorrow is our permanent address
and there they’ll scarcely find us (if they do,
we’ll move away still further: into now”
-ee cummings.
i am overflowing;
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} 65;
“i will come back to you, i swear i will;
and you will know me still.
i shall be only a little taller
than when i went.”
-edna st. vincent millay
{berets and bongos} 64;
“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.
{berets and bongos} 63;
”…she collected dictionaries
as other women take up men
and shelve them:
manuals, grammars, teach Yourself
german, malay, italian, swahili, welsh,
like a passion for clothes that would hang
unworn in the dark,
for peridots, garnets, amethysts, pearls
in a shut case, nouns declined.
each unknown word shone with delicious fire
and the alien phrases silked her skin
with their genders and connotations.
she might have been the end house
on the waterfront of macau
welcoming every sailor in.
but the longing for many tongues
to part her lips – si, igen, ja,
ah oui, yes, yes –
was departure’s smile,
a leaning to the wind
that sweeps a glitter of light
across the sea and sets a silvery chill
at the neck. quick, to those books
guarding the mantelpiece,
ISBNs snug as a span of days;
to bread and fruit and sparkling wine…”
-jan owen, the return.
spring, you are too kind;
playground romps with the mir-cat.
eating kiwis (skin and all!) with my sensible shoes + favorite dress.
pre-thirty mile bike ride burrito + sangria (!!!)
fox socks out on the town.
statues getting festive.
mile twenty six of said bike ride. roomies on the tandem. fried dough stand ambiance.
prunes + kindle in the library. 21 going on 84 years old. just call me myrtle.
if bob ross was painting my dinner the other night, he’d call it “happy produce”.
…spring, you really are the best. keep on doing your thang.
{feed the mackenzies} 5;
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
{berets and bongos} 62;
“you give me flowers resembling chinese lanterns.
you give me hale, for yellow. you give me vex.
you give me lemons softened in brine and you give me cuttlefish ink.
you give me all 463 stairs of brunelleschi’s dome.
you give me seduction and you let me give it back to you.
you give me you.
you give me an apartment full of morning smells—toasted bagel and black
coffee and the freckled lilies in the vase on the windowsill.
you give me 24-across.
you give me flowers resembling moths’ wings.
you give me the first bird of morning alighting on a wire.
you give me the sidewalk café with plastic furniture and the boys
with their feet on the chairs.
you give me the swoop of homemade kites in the park on Sunday.
you give me afternoon-colored beer with lemons in it.
you give me d.h. lawrence,
and he gives me pomegranates and sorb-apples.
you give me the loose tooth of california, the broken jaw of new york city.
you give me the blue sky of wyoming, and the blue wind through it.
you give me an ancient city where the language is a secret
everyone is keeping.
you give me a t-shirt that says all you gave me was this t-shirt.
you give me pictures with yourself cut out.
you give me lime blossoms, but not for what they symbolize.
you give me yes. You give me no.
you give me midnight apples in a car with the windows down.
you give me the flashbulbs of an electrical storm.
you give me thunder and the suddenly green underbellies of clouds.
you give me the careening of trains.
you give me the scent of bruised mint.
you give me the smell of black hair, of blond hair.
you give me apollo and daphne, pan and syrinx.
you give me echo.
you give me hyacinths and narcissus. you give me foxgloves
and soft fists of peony.
you give me the filthy carpet of an east village apartment.
you give me seeming not to notice.
you give me an unfinished argument, begun on the manhattan-bound f train.”
-rebecca lindemberg, dispatches from an unfinished world.
{berets and bongos} 61;
“oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much”
-frank o’hara.
