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I Am Love

November CAN emulate Tilda Swinton grace, ok

FFFFFFFFF (full stop)

#grime grace tildaswinton

The state of things should be thus

#synchro radical OK

Raging (but contained) fires in pits and mind

The slide out of your skin kind.

The slide out and sin kind

How do you get to that point in your life where it doesn't matter when you 'ain't got no'

???

This summer was trying, emotionally. We made a few foolish mistakes. I'm not afraid to fail, but I do look forward to picking myself back up and dusting off.. specifically in calf hair booties and kept hair, a fitted Burberry trench and no tired husk to my voice. YOU KNOW? It has been one long year of falling off cliffs. The blueprints of togetherness, discuss:

Here's the setup: Filmmaker Matthew Clarke and another "full grown man" (David Milchard) reenact actual conversations Clarke has had with his two-year-old girl Coco Frances Harrison-Clarke.

The Smell of Spring

Why do we live here? I usually ask my husband this question a couple of times each winter, especially so in Feb/March. I ask that question and usually just as soon as the words are out of my mouth I wonder how we could ever leave. Today marks one of those early spring time phenomena; the first fresh smell! After a long frozen time, the grass, heavily soaked with warm rain, starts to peek & grow & smell. Its sensational. The windows are open, and I'm writing in bed with J snoozing next to me. I want to drink this air. It restores my good faith in these rough NA times. Before these smells, earlier in the AM when it was simply colder and rainier, I had to leave my internet anxiety for the Library & cafes. Raffi blared in the car and I didn't give a rats shit about how uncool it was because the music was so uplifting/loving/innocent - - - and lets face it, we all could use a little more innocence lately. So I declare, long live these spring time smells in your nostrils and elsewhere. And stay tuned for wild edibles, y'all.

Ever pungent 'n' green,

JNP

April Bygone

The signal of spring time is a frantic one in these chilly Northern (ish) parts; first we are pacing, huffing, wishing, and then another storm blows through and knocks us down again and we wither, maybe panic a little, that the warmth that we need for our spirit might never come. It's March and April, those hopeful but delicate months that shape the spring time you, the summer version. This too much winter has been also a too much spring, but I see all of that changing soon. Soon the dark circles and yellow exhaustion will fade away into nice peach tones, seersucker and open toed brown leather. I hope. We are moving soon from the humble abode, on to new adventures in learning and life, with two little brats that are growing far too quickly; and a pair, who despite needing a solid week of sleep, still love like reckless teenagers. We're in it for the long haul, and the u haul, if you know what I mean. Until May, and thereafter; JNP

Marry me, Monday

JK. PFFFFFFFFT.

#cabinfever #february #Intensify #kidsonsleepstrike #vacationsoon?

Che'cheelia Bartoli - You were pensively spun on the record player in the dark days of winter in Arques, France. I was keeping bees then, and working out my mind in my mid twenties. The castle smelled like cold and root cellar. Yvonne was weepy, drinking tea and talking about her love for Cecelia. She had old Turkish killim rugs and a crackling wood stove; It was fucking magical.

#Magic #Opera #Beauty #CeceliaBartoli #February

May every day this whole month be beautiful & unusual.

#February #Hamburglar #bettererasemygooglehistorybeforemyhusbandcomeshome

F*** me. I only hope my boys are this radical.

January

Basically a lot of Jed Bartlett & mania around these parts

Making Soap; the world is AWASH with possibilities

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Wasn't I in this band? Was I not? Wasn't I the light that got switched on, or Tina Weymouth? This song was my wedding song, the song that M and I danced to while others bobbed around us and smashed slate tiles over each others head. In our house when the needle of our record player is on this song, there is a mandatory dance party. The dance party is ridiculous because C skanks to everything, or gallops in circles until he falls down with dizziness. M is Boney M; skeletal and silly like those inflatable wind man dancers. J is fat and curious and because I am too busy holding him with both hands I almost never get to shake my legs.

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Never a bud of spring, never a laugh of summer, Never a dream of love, never a song of bird; but only the silence and white, the shores that grow chiller and dumber, whenever the ice winds sob, and the griefs of winter are heard -Wilfred Campbell

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Kate Bush for migraine; neigh or neigh?

Frantically envisioning grandiose everything; January, lick it

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