Bedroom chair | 30 January 2010

Postcard | 16 January 2010

At the end of Anthony Powell’s The Acceptance World, Nick Jenkins contemplates a postcard from Jean arranging their rendezvous. The postcard portrays a woman sitting on a man’s lap on a red velvet chair in a bedroom, exchanging “ardent glances … evidently on the best of terms.”

One could not help thinking how extraordinarily unlike “the real thing” was this particular representation of a pair of lovers; indeed, how indifferently, at almost every level except the highest, the ecstasies and bitterness of love are at once conveyed in art. So much of the truth remains finally unnegotiable; in spite of the fact that most persons in love go through remarkably similar experiences. … The matter was presented as all too easy, the twin flames of dual egotism reduced almost to nothing, so that there was no pain; and, for that matter, almost no pleasure.

……

The fact remained that an infinity of relevant material had been deliberately omitted from that vignette of love in action. These two supposedly good-looking persons were, in effect, going through the motions of love in such a manner as to convince others, perhaps less well equipped for the struggle than themselves, that they, too, the spectators, could be easily identified with some comparable tableau. They, too, could sit embracing on crimson chairs. Although hard to define with precision the exact point at which a breach of honesty had occurred, there could be no doubt that this performance included an element of the confidence-trick.

And the last line of the novel:

Perhaps, in spite of everything, the couple on the postcard could not be dismissed so easily. It was in their world that I seemed now to find myself.

The drinks of the new year | 1 January 2010

Nows | 31 December 2009

Forever — is composed of Nows —
’Tis not a different time —
Except for Infiniteness —
And Latitude of Home —

From this — experienced Here —
Remove the Dates — to These —
Let Months dissolve in further Months —
And Years — exhale in Years —

Without Debate — or Pause —
Or Celebrated Days —
No different Our Years would be
From Anno Domini’s —

— Emily Dickinson, c. 1862

Lamps | 29 December 2009

One of our many lamps; this one sits in the corner between two sofas and lights my book when I read on the old blue couch at night.

Do you mind? | 24 December 2009

We recorded another video on our American Thanksgiving road trip (see last year’s), this time to Robbie Williams’s “Do You Mind”. We are, as Scott mentioned, dorks, and apparently unashamed of it.

(I’m posting this now because my website disappeared for 24 hours and even though no one noticed and it really didn’t matter at all I feel like I must do something to welcome it back. Also I’m worried that the holiday spirit will overtake me shortly, via eggnog, from which I do not plan to emerge for another eight days or so.)

Do You Mind from SDH on Vimeo.

Sexy new chair | 24 October 2009

Acrylics | 20 October 2009

Happy birthday, luvvy.

Sunset after rain | 4 October 2009

The new place, empty | 1 September 2009

50 years | 31 August 2009

<—– Previous Entries  | 

Places to go: bhikku | bookninja | eudaemonist | fine little day | fireland | ftrain | geegaw | girls are pretty | interior stories | ivebeenreadinglately | lena corwin | maud newton | mimi smartypants | oblivio | pliv | poppytalk | rhetorical device | simply breakfast | smosch | the nonist | toastier | whygodwhy | wood s lot | & so