Tuesday, December 14, 2010

my stars

THIS post by Elizabeth of White Lightning is incredible. Read it, ogle the pictures, and die a million little deaths from all the awe and jealousy and inspiration coursing through your veins. And note the variety of ages, genders, races, and aesthetics amalgamated in that little room...the times they are a changin'.

Sunday, December 12, 2010


I'm not sure when the people around me will realize that when I get up in the morning and pick out my outfit and do my makeup and blowdry my hair, it is solely for my own benefit. I'm not even attempting to attract or impress anyone with the way I present myself. My chosen form of expression is my style. I wear "weird" things sometimes. So what?

Thursday, December 9, 2010

the view from where i sit is rather grey

In drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Thy branches ne'er remember
Their green felicity:
The north cannot undo them
With a sleety whistle through them;
Nor frozen thawings glue them
From budding at the prime.
In drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting,
They stay their crystal fretting,
Never, never petting
About the frozen time.

Ah! would 'twere so with many
A gentle girl and boy!
But were there ever any
Writhed not at passed joy?
The feel of not to feel it,
When there is none to heal it
Nor numbed sense to steel it,
Was never said in rhyme.
Seattle winters could crush you with their interminable grey-ness. Poem: In drear-nighted December, John Keats. Photos: vi.sualize, Pringle of Scotland Pre-Fall, Rag and Bone.