Liu Wen looking hot. I think today is her bday. So, I won’t be covering NYC Fashion Week this February, since I’ll be going to ST THOMAS BITCHES!!! ahahahahahaaa!!! All the rest of you can run around in heels in Lincoln Center, but I’m gonna be on a plane or in crystal blue water. Just bought a bikini on ASOS. Sweating it, tracking it, waiting for it. Mama’s gonna get some Virgin Isle sun.

Funnier than the first one. Spot on. hahahahhaaa

Grace Gao, Vogue China, Feb 2012

Gorgeous!

Guess where I’m going this Saturday night?! Le Bernardin! Charlie was good about booking us dinner there for our 1 yr anniversary. This is because he had to endure my enthusiastic shrieks of “AVEC ERIIC!!” every time I watched the show. What an awesome boyfriend. I booked a spa treatment for us on Saturday afternoon– facials, massage, foot reflexology, the works.
It’s gonna be a good weekend.

Minakani Walls

via Minakani Walls

XVII  (Adrienne Rich)

No one’s fated or doomed to love anyone.
The accidents happen, we’re not heroines,
they happen in our lives like car crashes,
books that change us, neighborhoods
we move into and come to love.
Tristan und Isolde is scarcely the story,
women at least should know the difference
between love and death. No prison cup,
no penance. Merely a notion that the tape – recorder
should have caught some ghost of us: that tape – recorder
not merely played but should have listened to us,
and could instruct those after us:
this we were, this is how we tried to love,
and these are the forces we had ranged within us
within us and against us, against us and within us.

*

“In any case, the point or the place that I would want to point to as absolute interiority of a work of writing is what Andre Breton called the point sublime, which is the point of encounter in which unlike things encounter each other and create an extraordinary, albeit usually a very momentary place within a work—if that makes any sense. And I think you hear it in the Stein, in those copulas that she puts of:

“an elephant and a strict occasion,”

and if you linger on that juxtaposition, there is a moment in which an elephant and a strict occasion are absolutely in place together, logically. And then the logic explodes.”

- Lyn Hejinian, Poetry and Place

Weeknight Italian Wedding Soup. Recipe found here.  Mange!

It’s C O L D out there. Charlie and I went to the Meatball shoppe again and had meatballs and mashed potatoes and bright peppery arugula with apples. Diet is not looking too hot right now. Also, haven’t hit the gym this week cause it’s been too damn cold and all I want to do is hibernate and watch trashy tv.  I bought about 5 new books online  to make up for the guilt of watching 3 episodes of The Bachelor. Oh, yeah. I totally went there. But I’m excited to get some William Gass, some Didion, also my 3rd Jennifer Egan book (she was my favorite last year as well as this) and 2 of Jeffrey Eugenides’ works: The Marriage Plot and Middlesex. I never feel as if I’ve read enough and reading online is just grazing.

That’s all I have for now. Happy Sunday.

Conversation between Moth and Flame

by  Farnoosh Fathi

Out of all I scoped for most
was the surface of night,
to eke one out of two, twin infinities.
Night’s lapel-blown lava-colored clue
made me come to—
(from where a fragrance rose,
a reasoning just under the nose)
I said to the flame, with intrigue
at its stationary flight, The other moths
don’t stay the conversation, jarring off
like staples in a materializing
whistle. In flowers as in indices,
demanding to be buried with
their answers. But I lose myself
in what I admire. Do I look to you
to be correcting an approach
to love? Fear is an obsession too.
And what did you say then
while I believed the secret had
been waxing like moon moss between us,
in a voice fresh as baptismal splash—
The ample-bodied pause was not
what singed, but just the way
things are here, then flown, then up in arms
then wings, then flames. Down
with the centuries of ash in our fleeing fetal grips—
You said, “If I could tell you
I would not be so warm”—
You said, “It was that I did not catch”

*

*