I'm off to a monastery for a few days because MY HEART IS A DESERT and I need to go sit by the sea and be quiet near some trees, but I want you to all talk about the most dirtbag summers of your lives.
I'll learn to take up space without apology and, one day, I’ll be able to wait for a train without contemplating my possible murder; and maybe those two vows aren’t related, but it feels like they’re entwined together in the creases of my veil.
It makes so much sense that a lot of contemporary monks would have had Big Opinions about Thomas Merton, the most famousest monk of all, but it somehow never occurred to me that any of them would have been so catty about it?
Damage to right, rear corner of basement walls highly suggestive of the presence of a Basement Wyrm. While Wyrm’s temperament is unknown, age of home and condition of basement walls suggest that ritual appeasement should be done in another 2-3 years.
I trust book buyers to read beyond their immediate experience, beyond their census box. This is what readers have done since literacy became commonplace, so I don’t know why that’s a great leap for our industry today. But I still hear it all the time: “Does this group buy books?” “Is this group enough of an audience?” I hear real fear in that question.
Sunday night’s episode of
Downton Abbey
felt different. What seems to be a simple domestic drama can be read, instead, as a dream-like meditation on the menace of war and the corrosive power of secrecy. This episode works through symbols and allusions, rather than Downton’s usual blend of realism and exposition.
The great Jan Hooks was never better than in "Brenda the Waitress," an SNL skit that is still my favorite movie. It's better than whatever movie you like, and it is the source of the oldest and truest wisdom there is: Pie is never free.
The Lady is a British magazine that was introduced to me by my dear friend Victoria, and something that I’m sure many of you are familiar with already. But oh how my life has improved since reading it.
