Greetings from Me and LC at Joshua Tree

Both of them felt it: that day was an island….On the mainland,  people went about their business, eating the Times, glancing through coffee and oatmeal, as they walked the gangway into an original dream of attentiveness, as if a day’s pleasure could concentrate them as much as suffering.
Sun, Donald Hall

Let me tell you: I’m trying to seize the fourth dimension of this instant-now so fleeting that it’s already gone because it’s already become a new instant-now that’s also already gone. Every thing has an instant in which it is. The want to grab hold of the is of the thing. These instants passing through the air I breathe: in fireworks they explode silently in space. I want to possess the atoms of time. And to capture the present, forbidden by its very nature.
Agua Viva, Clarice Inspector

When the sun grew so bright, when it was not nearly but merely blinding, she could do nothing but succumb to her senses and wait. And this is how it will be, with a sense of humor.
Newton North High School 1989 yearbook inscription, Lisa Rosman

Our Lunar Tides, Our Selves

I know menstruation is one of the few taboo topics on social media (cockocracy!) but today I cried over the Comey hearing, a late-’90s Julia Roberts film that will go unnamed (ok, Stepmom), a certain permakitten when she rested her chin on my toe, and the fact that my dress wasn’t ready at the tailors. Tonight’s potent full moon is not helping, nor is our massive Constitutional crisis. Overall, though, I just need to (insert verb, Mad Libs-style) already. Our periods are a blessing for which I am all the more grateful since I realized mine was an endangered species. But the period before our periods blows as hard as our alleged president–very, very hard.

The Happy Unhappy Ending

I adore this Emily Nussbaum take on Sex and the City, which, for all its micro-aggressive flaws, offered a realpolitik, pagan-spangled take on turn-of-the-millennium Manhattan and heterosexual, (white)lady congress. The final paragraph had me nodding like a banshee while also recommencing my book: “What would the show look like without that finale? What if it were the story of a woman who lost herself in her thirties, who was changed by a poisonous, powerful love affair, and who emerged, finally, surrounded by her friends?” Note to self: Living out most women’s worst fears brought out your best self. Tell your story, ladybird.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy