three stories i loved when i was ten:
1) harriet the spy
2) a wind in the door
3) from the mixed-up files of mrs. basil e. frankweiler
why?
who doesn't want to run away and live in the metropolitan museum of art? [see the royal tenenbaums for further evidence of the merit of such adventures; margot and richie tenenbaum, at ages similar to claudia and jamie of mrs. basil... ran away to the natural history museum in new york city and slept surrounded by dinosaur skeletons and the taxidermied bodies of mammoths, saber-toothed tigers, and the {famous further thanks to wes anderson} "squid and the whale." man, what i wouldn't give to be a kid in new york city. everyone gets to hide somewhere fascinating!]
who didn't pretend to belong to an elite spy association? i did this while hiding in my bushes with a notebook, invisible-ink pen, and 'tape recorder' (actually a defunct-walkman), recording my every mundane observation about the obnoxiously-boringly-normal neighbors and the wonder-bread delivery man who came every wednesday afternoon. i also hid stores of ordinary stones, maple leaves, and paperbirch sticks in my shed. this was quite obviously for an emergency, in case i had to live there for an extended period of time, such as if i were to be discovered and had to run away. [i had no other choice of location, not living nearby a museum interesting enough to hide within.]
what child didn't want a drove of dragons hanging about in their garden, their mitochondrian/farandolae having mental breakdowns and needing internal adventures, and a black psychic garter snake named louise living in their stone wall? i sure did. also, further evidence of said desires: see the episode(s) of jim henson's muppet babies in which the babies must escape the nursery in order to adventure inside a) skooter and his broken immune system, taking trips into the memory files of his brain and flying around his bloodstream in a submarine, and b) in order to prevent the watermelon seed fozzie swallowed from becoming a sizeable fruit. those two really only refer to the internal adventures aspect, but i did write a paper in a.p. bio about a wind in the door, and ms. kahlstorf wanted me to research further on the existence/importance of farandolae, as scientists at this point in time are aware of only the importance of mitochondrian. ha!
sleeping in the library last night made me feel as if i partially experienced one of the three, even if it were not in a museum, not for an extended period of time, and not actually illegal. i'd still much rather hide out in the Met, much rather have to hide from security guards in toilets and under artifacts, than to sleep in awkwardly shaped armchairs and wake up to the janitors moving the furniture about. but at least i can pretend, right? right.
¿me deseas? necesito saber antes de salir por los bosques, antes de salir por las islas, porque me he vuelto muy loca, y te amo. esta es la verdad. no el tipo de amor que es en las películas, no entre las personas viejas que han casado por muchos años, no el tipo de amor que es profundo en el corazón. esta es un tipo de amor fugaz, y no quiero amarte. pero hago.
favorites: [charlie] and [hard to concentrate] by the red hot chili peppers. greys marathons. [emily] by j. newsom. tomato-basil-cheese pizza, after consuming nothing but (1) cup coffee in 24 hours. [violent pornography] by system of a down. being cranky. [for the widows...] by s. stevens. dark jeans that make a) my ass look good and b) me look tall + my houndstooth heels. [winter] by j. radin. hot tomales and peanut butter m&m's. [globalization and its discontents as sung by joseph stiglitz] by sean (unknown). having my window open again (even though its -3 degrees outside).
non-favorites: wisconsin winter weather and waiting to waltz my way to ecuador (oh, i am good. look at that alliteration!) the impending doom of finals week. making appointments at the ecuadorian consulate in chicago. trying to sign a lease in the midst of a shitstorm, all by myself. knowing i am going to miss people i don't want to be missing. knowing i am going to miss people i want to be missing. flakes. not sleeping.
i like a man who grins when he fights [ ear to ear. it's the irish in me. ]
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