Some socks

I've been petulant and moody, unable to write anything. I did buy colorful socks: they're nicer than these humid days.

My Idleness

I have not made myself write in a while, coasting on the thoughts of history's shadows. I'm enamored by fictional characters. The silently passionate Tatiana, sitting by the window, pale, with flaming dark eyes. Andrei Bolkonsky underneath Austerlitz skies and his steel, cynical stature. After these summer days, these creatures haunt my impressionable mind, more solid and lasting than my ephemeral whims.

I'm also considering collecting beautiful faces, to brand with names and loves and stories. My collection starts with him. A Eugene Onegin with red hair, perhaps?

The Sartorialist

Hiatus

Am leaving for the Black Sea for about ten days. When I'm back, expect a flurry of moderately witty posts.

Because the present doesn't always suit.

I have several unrealistic visions of the future. I could be the mysterious old lady with purple hair living in a mansion in New Zealand. I would be the enigma of the town by day and by night, I would publish poems under a crafty pseudonym. I could also own a coffee shop by the Black Sea, playing moody music of the Tom Waits and Regina Spektor variety, and mixing strange drinks. I might be a wandering writer, a modern day gypsy armed with a notebook, a pen, and some killer wit. Either way, I promise to myself to dress extravagantly: peacock feathers, sequins, high heels, and dainty hats. Sadly, I have yet to become the woman of my midnight visions, but I'm sure will one day.

Who will you be?

Wear your equations on your sleeve.

I've always thought of myself as a nerd. I'm a bit too aloof and much more immersed in the world of ideas than reality. The vortexes of mathematical equations spinning in my mind and the musings of book characters seem more vivid and coherent than my daily breakfast routine. An especially pretty trigonometric function can leave me in fits of giggles, as if I've spoken to a charming boy. That's why I've always been attracted to the nerd aesthetic so popular these days. I would love to wear clothes with code messages, which could only understood by people with likewise scholastic passions. Sadly, the clothing toted under the nerd trend have always lacked some enigma... That's where Rhombus comes in. Their simple, clean styles and photo-shoots staged in classrooms and libraries say "nerd" better than many others do.









That boy just might be cuter than a trig function... Nah, not quite.

Going away

I'm leaving for Ukraine to see my relatives tomorrow morning and posting from there might be harder than usual. I have been doddering around, doing little. Wearing perfume at home to avoid the suffocating smell of my own sweat, listening to lovely music splayed out on the floor, drinking cups and cups of tea. Summer living.

I've been reading Sylvia Plath's diaries and she continues to fascinate me. I find a comforting familiarity with her overwhelming ambition to write.

Mad Girl's Love Song
by Sylvia Plath

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Current inspirations

What makes my heart beat quicker these days...

Isabella blow


Beatnik Era Hobos, Bohemia, Gypsies

"Great sinister tax-paid police cars (1960 models with humorless searchlights) are likely to bear down at any moment on the hobo in his idealistic lope to freedom and the hills of holy silence and holy privacy. There's nothing nobler than to put up with a few inconveniences like snakes and dust for the sake of absolute freedom."
Jack Kerouac

French existential novels

Come, let me sing into your ear

I never feel that I am dressing how I want to, feeling like I am forever sinking in the space of my own mediocrity. I want to wear precious lace dresses meant for green days and tea parties out of story books, but these dresses seem to exist solely in my fiendish dreams. I want to cloak myself in sleek black, grab a fake cigarette, and imagine myself a character in a Simone de Beauvoir novel. Or dress like anyone of them, really.







(FAK!, pandora, sartorialist)

I said steam, steam, a hundred bad dreams

(magic fly paula)

Am sitting in a navy blue lacy tank, sipping oolong tea and listening to Tom Waits, letting the lazy days of summer float by me. When walking with my mom, we saw an iguana lying on the road. As arrogant as a cat, that small dragon with a striped tail. I want a pair of red shoes to wear with gray and black or learn how to dance salsa.

Blank Pages

One of the sensations I always relish in is starting to write on the pages of a new notebook. So much so that my cupboards are overfilled with unfinished ones. My addiction has led me to build quite a collection. I have one that features kitties in eye glasses and one with a bunny sitting in a tea cup. I scoured the web for some to keep me away from homework. At the very least this way there is no danger in me buying more...

(anthropologie, esoule, jetoy)

Silly Favorites

How else to start a blog but with an account of one's obsessions?

Vladimir Nabokov
Simone de Beauvoir
Spring breezes
Flowery skirts
Sensual prose
Witty quotes
Cat naps
Spending endless days reading and drinking tea
Marathon walks with no destination
Finding used book stores
Scribbling diary entries in coffee shops
Memorizing poetry
Sushi
Mushrooms
Insane people from history, especially European
Debating about meaningless things
Memorizing nocturnes note by note
A book hangover
Ghost stories
Switching back and forth between languages
Fresh notebooks
Sandals
Eating ice cream in the rain