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poeTRY – Noisiest Passenger

Posts under ‘poeTRY’

The I-don’t-care-about-Christmas advent calendar

dscf5114

Now I love me some design blogs. They’re pornographic, except the thread counts are higher and the carpets always complement, if not match, the drapes. They always make me feel like my design life isn’t all that exciting compared to theirs. Design blogs might even be a little more staged than porn. But you get my point.

I also read a few blogs about child rearing. I won’t call these mommy blogs, as I think that term is very limiting. The bloggers I read do write about their children, but they also write about other endeavors that didn’t involve a uterus.

One of the bloggers I read is hands-down one of the most adorable people to ever show the Internet how adorable she is. I actually read many blogs like this, and they make me feel so serious and curt and well, unadorable. I can’t get enough of them.

Anyway, both types of blogs are obsessing over Yuletide decor these days. I may be suckered into making newspaper taxidermy, but I can’t bring myself to care about Christmas table runners.

Except I want to make an advent calendar, too. It’s like a to-do list of festivities.

Mind you, I’m not going to include caroling or anything involved a garland. But I’m trying to come up with 25 things to do to celebrate December. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

The I-don’t-care-about-Christmas advent calendar

uncle_sam

uncle_sam

I’ve got a bad feeling

But this makes me feel better about it.

Okay, I guess it’s not that bad.

I’ve got a bad feeling

Joan Didion’s Blue Nights

When I began writing these pages I believed their subject to be children, the ones we have and the ones we wish we had, the ways in which we depend on our children to depend on us, the ways in which we encourage them to remain children, the ways in which they remain more unknown to us than they do to their most casual acquaintances; the ways in which we remain equally opaque to them.”

Eight tales of NYC apartment hell

brothel

I have a few terrible stories about renting in NYC.

Like the time the single light in my Central Park West studio kept burning out, and the super didn’t believe me and left me to live in the dark for days at a time.

Or the time a different pervy super tried to walk in on me in the shower and then implied that I had an incestuous relationship with my dad.

But Kelly, my friend/mentor/blog Samaritan, has the best horror stories. I mean that in general. If horror stories were apartments, she’d have a whole building somewhere in Brooklyn. And if apartment horror stories were contests, which Curbed has gone ahead and done, she’d be story number three.

Eight tales of NYC apartment hell

brothel

brothel

Homemade pumpkin pi

Project Whim

Consolidated Whim

Whimsy Corp

Claire could only find these scissors. She laughed, “I’m not a woman of moderation.”

Homemade pumpkin pi

pumpkins

pumpkins

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img_0783

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img_0777