When I cannot write, I look up. Craned neck, closed eyes. I swivel my creaking chair, and open them.
Meditative whir and whirl
Rendered in black-and-white, like rubbed-away ink on a faded page.
*“…beating time along the edge of thought.”-Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
The temperature remains high, at least where I live, but autumn is sneaking around the corner. Although I find scant joy in the companions of cold weather-believing that you should visit ice and snow if the fancy strikes, and not the other way around-there are some compensations that arrive with this particular changing of the seasons, among them: hot mulled cider, hot chocolate, gingerbread cake, holiday cookies, ice skating, scarves, boots, crackling fires, the ability to watch Miracle on 34th Street ten times without being judged (too harshly), silly parades, a changing landscape and, of course, the built-in excuse to hunker down and read as many books as possible. That last one is the best. The Autumn 2012 edition of Bas Bleu is crammed with enough delicious books and literary-related goodies to last the next two seasons. Check out my jumble bag of favourites below, complete with handy links. Continue reading
I’m reading a dirty book and, no, it’s not Fifty Shades of…Anything. It’s worse. I picked it up last week at the dollar store. During check-out I hid it in the middle of a pile of cleaning supplies, but the cashier wasn’t fooled: she gave me side eye. Owning it makes me blush. I would never, ever be seen in public with it under my arm or nose. We’re friends, though, right? Right? Okay, good. I’m a bit shy about this sensitive subject, so I am going to divulge my secret in a photograph. Deep breath. Here it is: Continue reading
A bunch of books I’m glad I didn’t write, courtesy of AbeBooks.com’s Weird Book Room.
Plus, two I wish I had:
Although hundreds of trees spread across the distant horizon like ink blots, the park adjacent to my flat is the only true green spot in this industrial neighborhood.
Pretty flowers and plants near the old workhouse wall that dissects my neighborhood.
I’m partial to the rust and dust and accumulated dirt, the graffiti and old buildings that litter the CW. The flowers are bright and perky, but they’ll die in service to the coming season. I like the good bones of the stone and brick structures, even if the edges are crumbly. They last, even if they are a bit shabby.
*I will be the gladdest thing/Under the sun!/I will touch a hundred flowers/And not pick one”-Edna St. Vincent Millay, Afternoon on a Hill
“Perhaps there is another kind of writing, I only know this one: in the night, when fear does not let me sleep.”-Franz Kafka
I love Truman Capote. He makes me giddy. His writing-when he was at his best, when he cared enough to really try-is sublime. I could listen to his voice all day long. No, I could listen to his voice all the live long day. Enjoy these Capote-themed goodies from Etsy.
Truman Capote Necklace by Art History Nerd-$25.00
I adore the photograph embedded in this necklace. It’s probably my favourite of Capote. If I wore this piece, I’d spend too much time fiddling with it like a toy.
Truman Capote Quote by hendersweet-$3.00
A nice little card with a quote from Breakfast at Tiffany’s.
Truman Capote Print by Senioritis-$15.00
Colourful, kitschy print (11×17).
Vintage 1970s Cosmo featuring Truman Capote Article from Shop Buy Love-$24.99
This July, 1972 edition of Cosmopolitan features the article Truman Capote by Truman Capote.
House of Flowers Soundtrack from The Vinyl Frontier-$25.00
This is the soundtrack to the Truman Capote/Harold Arlen musical, House of Flowers. Starring Pearl Bailey, it was recorded in 1954.
The Grass Harp by Truman Capote from Bound By Books-$10.00
A Penguin Books edition of The Grass Harp.
Yes, I’m serious with this one. Mae West wasn’t just a performer; she was also a playwright and screenwriter. Whether you love or hate her, she still fits the bill for inclusion here.
Mae West on Mr. Ed in March 1964, when she was 70. This is the full episode, so feel free to skip ahead to the tasty/ridiculous bits.
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 