Lion!
Re: super sekrit projects, maybe I should be friends with this guy. He also has an interview in the WSJ.
-Clem
Re: Jasmine tatts.
L., I am contemplating a “surrealist” or unexpected take on sampaguita. A flower-eye? A flower-gun? Have been yearning for something illustrative, with shading, maybe even color. A tattoo concept I’ve been dreaming about for nearly a decade features an innocuous-looking chrysanthemum with snakes hiding in the petals (or petals turning into snakes). Maybe I could work some sampaguita flowers into that.
(via l0vely1nk)
from lebanon (ks) to la mancha
Oh my darling,
I loved your Operation Jasmine reply, and will respond to your responses soon! And iHatechu for provoking the silent cackle at my desk today while I envisioned your face as a shy shy fish serenaded the audience (while awkwardly not making eye contact, natch) with “Somebody to Love.”
While I have definitely belted that one out in front of my mirrors with four part harmony and full orchestration AT HOME, hitting both the high and the low notes in public means you’ve got it baaad.
Though I entirely agree that a reticent fish is almost always a sincere one. The shy ones are so tough to connect with when you are shy yourself, but worth their weight in gold - and twice their weight in cocky men. (Every time I type or think “reticent fish,” I think of the trout in Danny, the Champion of the World. Just to continue the amazing children’s book theme this week. Perhaps you’ll have to tickle him in order to win him to your side? #gigglefit)
if you built yourself a myth
you’d know just what to give
do you lie?
oh let the ashes fly
dear l.,
WIDE AWAKE AT MIDNIGHT WITH THOUGHTS ABOUT LEAPS AND BOOKS. i cannot even deal. let me know what you think about my contributions to your initial brainstorming. cobblestone workshop on google+ could be productive for us and maybe one day we might invite others to play with us there, the way you did with #lyproject crew tonight?
would like to disclose that a reticent fish who will not say two words to me in person (but asked me out via text message) performed a hearty and admirable rendition of queen’s “somebody to love” at karaoke in my presence - and did both lead and background vocals - somebody (somebody) somebody (somebody).
still tagging along w/ fancy historians — most of whom will be migrating en masse to korea this summer. please remind me that i don’t need any more korea problems. however a mild case of the nerves can be endearing in a fish…sincerity lives underneath the nerves.
would also like to add that i am so very proud of you. i mean, of course i am — but your bravery, sturdiness and optimism these days is so inspiring!
fire. plans. insomnia.
clementine
p.s. i have a tiny heart attack whenever you mention leonessa-clementine endgame. b word. book. it is the accountability, you see…! i feel like i must step up somehow.
p.p.s. all your definitions for “love chickens”: yes.
(via sigridreads)
(via national stationery show: best of the rest | Design*Sponge)
ACK: AN ACTUAL EGGBASKET!!! giggled so hard.
so, clementine… although we needfully and happily ascertained that the last guy i dated was not my eggbasket. there is a calm and secret part of me that’s saying we’d like the next one to be a bit closer to the mark.
not like a permanent eggbasket. but he could maybe hold them for a little bit of time before i took them back and hatched them into love chickens or whatever.
(assignment: definition of love chickens for lexicon. all the things we hope for and fear in an eventual Shining Partnership of Grown Ass Equals? all the things that would make you do the opposite of buying a one way ticket to imatra.)
-leonessa
p.s. the leap year project g+ hangout was super energizing and inspiring. wish you had been thereeee/sorry to dump all over in such a long long email, but i think we may be heading towards cooking with gas! xxo
‘And suppose you had something and added less than nothing to it. What would you have then?’ ‘FAMINE,’ roared the anguished Humbug, who suddenly realized that that was exactly what he had twenty-three bowls of.
—
The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster
Excuse sandwich = subtraction stew! :(( #anguish
-Clem
Truth: but at least it has great visuals!
-Lion
L.,
A serene, uplifting “it is springtime and love is in the air” kind of song. I think you would really like it.
oh hello,
will you be mine?
i haven’t felt this alive in a long time
all the streets are warm today
i read signs
i haven’t been this in love in a long time
the sun is up, the sun will stay
Since bilingual people are today’s source of inspiration…
Lion,
I wanted to share one of my favorite purposely broken English poems, prefaced by this commentary:
After reading it carefully, you might scratch your head, and question the apparent grammatical errors and the senseless references. But this is part of Manalo’s continuing experiment with the fact of language (or languages) in the Philippines. Considering that we are a country of hundreds of tongues, how do we even begin to understand each other? How do we “translate” ourselves? Is what we do mere “transliteration”? And if we do that, how do we do it exactly? Consider this phrase from the first line—“O, how dead you child are.” Isn’t that a direct transliteration of “Patay kang bata ka*”? Or consider the word “beautifuling” in the second stanza. Is that an error in grammar (but what is an error in grammar actually?), or isn’t that the perfect translation of the Tagalog verb, “nagmamaganda”? And isn’t “Ipaghihiganti kita!” really just “I will giant you!” in all fairness of translation? In Manalo’s poetry, you get all these insights into the social status of our languages—difficult reading, yes, but once you find the key, you will be astounded by the insight.
*”you’re dead, kid.” - a colloquial “you’ll be sorry” type of threat. it only makes sense to people who speak fluent taglish…to me there are so many layers! pasig raver, for instance - a play on smelly pasig river in metro manila. i just emailed you about conflict associated w/ writing about a country in english when that country’s national language is not english. it can be an annoying tick to some readers to code-switch frequently, but to your home country homies it gives you more clout. another writer’s decision - who is your audience?
Jolography By Paolo Manalo
O, how dead you child are, whose spoiled
Sportedness is being fashion showed
Beautifuling as we speak — in Cubao
There is that same look: Your Crossing Ibabaw,
Your Nepa Cute, Wednesdays
Baclaran, “Please pass. Kindly ride on.”
Tonight will be us tomorrowed-
Lovers of the Happy Meal and its H,
Who dream of the importedness of sex as long as it’s
Pirated and under a hundred, who can smell
A Pasig Raver in a dance club. O, the toilet
Won’t flush, but we are moved, doing the gerby
In a plastic bag; we want to feel the grooves
Of the records, we want to hear some scratch-
In a breakaway movement, we’re the shake
To the motive of pockets, to the max.
The change is all in the first jeep
Of the morning’s route. Rerouting
This city and its heart attacks; one minute faster
Than four o’clock, and the next
Wave that stands out in the outdoor crowd
hanging with a bunch of yo-yos-
A face with an inverted cap on, wearing all
Smiles the smell of foot stuck between the teeth.
If something felt right, I’d drive all night in a push-up bra to get there. When it really feels right, you go out of your way. When something feels right, you put inconveniences in their place.
—
The Perils Of Justifying Yourself!
(GIRL PREACH.)
-lionessizzle
sizzle girl,
tell me about your job! (you don’t have to tell me about it here) i’m asking because you seem really happy there. would i like it? i am thinking that the “work” i loved most was was editing the school newspaper when i was a wee college student. obvi i owned the arts and culture section. i loved finding the stories, assigning writers, specifying word counts, editing the story, deciding what made it this week and what made it next week. also, i loved the perks, such as the swag that PR people sent me. dvds of movie trailers, product samples, once even a tin of spices from dean and deluca. i was far from a prodigy and never planned on being a journalist, but i really enjoyed it, no matter how late i had to stay in the newsroom. of course, i was so young, probably young for my age, and did not think this could be something that i actually did for a living. most of us have to try on so many things before we know what fits. so - is the above more or less what you do?
thanks for being my cheerleader.
clem
p.s.
excuse sandwiches are of the devil — or anyway the turkish delight of narnia’s white witch.
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