This Is It

Like most people I am not fond of the word blog. I could have gone for something like "the creative ramblings and magpie-like collections of a freelancer" but I decided on one of my favorite phrases in life. This is it.

Vogue Ethiopia

4310-934xA Mursi tribe woman discovers Vogue magazine, Ethiopia

Courtesy of this Distractify article.

Of all the images in the above article I pulled out this one. It’s a little bit funny, it’s fun to think what she is thinking about while reading Vogue, and the contrast makes you think a lot about culture.

I think people who also find this photo attractive would think something like the beauty western cultures enforce on society is fake and that this woman is real beauty. Maybe. I’m not exactly sure what everyone thinks but let’s pretend that is what they think.

To them I say beauty is subjective


The Both

I just bought a ticket to see The Both play at The Paradise Rock Club in Allston on April 25th. I think I’m in the middle of an existential crisis right now that’s been going on for at least a month and looks like it may last the rest of the summer. I’m grasping for anything and doing a lot of stuff I wouldn’t normally be doing (like attending this show solo) just to do something different.

And I’m looking forward to it.

A Map of My Heart

mans-heart-map-final-3 I was actually looking for maps of Somerville when I ran into this sweet thing. It reminded me how much I love maps – and how I like untraditional maps even more. “A venue of GOOD SENSE” made me laugh.

Someday, when I do carve out the time finally, I will make a map of Somerville and maybe even all of Boston that is illustrated and fantastic. For now I will continue scouring the internet in search of map inspiration.

Overheard at Starbucks

Sitting in a Starbucks on 23rd and 7th in New York. A man sat uneasily at the table in front waiting for someone. His staring at the door made me uncomfortable. About 10 minutes he waited. His face was old, older than my father. His hair was mostly gone but what was left was white. His eyes watered – from tears or from alcohol?

At 7:32 she came through the door. She couldn’t have been much older than I was. He was making apologies to her, asking her where she wanted to sit. She was despondent and didn’t speak for the first five minutes. She held her hands tightly and sat still.

He spoke in whispers, most of it sounded Russian. I expected her to speak Russian but she had perfect English. His accent was definitely Eastern European.

Through the conversation I only heard her side. He had told her to “fuck-off” at some point. That she was scared of him. That something had brought them to this point. Something about how he followed her everywhere.

I did not think it was her father or her lover. If he was her stalker why would she agree to meet with him?

He apologized with his hands and eyes. He over-apologized with words. It was clear to me that he had gone too far and she was not going to let it be better. She was done. Whatever was between them, she was done.

Ok, so why this story about eavesdropping? I guess these are just my favorite moments. All these interactions happening between people at all times. The stories of our lives and how they interact.