Monday, October 24, 2011

Sunday, October 9, 2011


My cat and I are in love. I'm obsessed with the little baby sawyer, and I'm certain he is obsessed with me. I am certain because he greets me at the door when I get home, sleeps with me, cuddles me, purrs in my ear, and follows me around. We have become even closer in the last week, and I know why. My kitten and I are both separated from our loves. Sawyer and Lemon were litter brothers, adopted at the same time by my former roommate and I. They were recently separated. In a perfect world they would both be with me, but Lemon's mommy loves him and wants him with her. Sadly, the two boys, inseparable for the first 6 months of their lives must now brave the world alone. No one to snuggle with ,or play with when Mumma (me!) is at work, and no one to help clean the hard to reach places, or take naps with in the sun. I understand how my little Sawyer feels. My love lives far away. He studies biology and is almost finished with his degree. We have hope to be together again soon, and we visit frequently. Baby Sawyer may never be close with his brother again. I'm sorry Baby! It is love that has complicated this all. But, I promise I will love you forever, and at the very least, I will never separate from you. <3
sawyer and mark
meows in love

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Monday, June 6, 2011

i hate



Saturday, June 4, 2011

All the Dead Dears

In the Archæological Museum in Cambridge is a stone
coffin of the fourth century A.D. containing the skeletons
of a woman, a mouse and a shrew. The ankle-bone of the
woman has been slightly gnawed.

Rigged poker -stiff on her back
With a granite grin
This antique museum-cased lady
Lies, companioned by the gimcrack
Relics of a mouse and a shrew
That battened for a day on her ankle-bone.

These three, unmasked now, bear
Dry witness
To the gross eating game
We'd wink at if we didn't hear
Stars grinding, crumb by crumb,
Our own grist down to its bony face.

How they grip us through think and thick,
These barnacle dead!
This lady here's no kin
Of mine, yet kin she is: she'll suck
Blood and whistle my narrow clean
To prove it. As I think now of her hand,

From the mercury-backed glass
Mother, grandmother, greatgrandmother
Reach hag hands to haul me in,
And an image looms under the fishpond surface
Where the daft father went down
With orange duck-feet winnowing this hair ---

All the long gone darlings: They
Get back, though, soon,
Soon: be it by wakes, weddings,
Childbirths or a family barbecue:
Any touch, taste, tang's
Fit for those outlaws to ride home on,

And to sanctuary: usurping the armchair
Between tick
And tack of the clock, until we go,
Each skulled-and-crossboned Gulliver
Riddled with ghosts, to lie
Deadlocked with them, taking roots as cradles rock.

-sylvia plath

Thursday, June 2, 2011

nails done

without even realizing it, i copied kate.

summer loving

My summer to do:

-go home to palm springs and lounge.
-breakfast in bed as much as possible.
-swimming in pools.


-short shorts with crisp white blouses.

-white lace, white crochet.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

in the middle of a cloud

my love will turn you on.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

for brooke

in all my best frilly panties

Wednesday, March 2, 2011


Miluju tě

moving this weekend. some inspiration for my new place. lots of white, pastels, comfy spaces.
(sources: decorista, and a few from my computer)

Saturday, February 5, 2011

time for a change.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Saturday, January 29, 2011

dive for dreams
or a slogan may topple you
(trees are their roots
and wind is wind)
trust your heart
if the seas catch fire
(and live by love
though the stars walk backward)
honour the past
but welcome the future
(and dance your death
away at the wedding)
never mind a world
with its villains or heroes
(for good likes girls
and tomorrow and the earth)
in spite of everything
which breathes and moves, since Doom
(with white longest hands
neating each crease)
will smooth entirely our minds
-before leaving my room
i turn, and (stooping
through the morning) kiss
this pillow, dear
where our heads lived and were.

silently if, out of not knowable

silently if, out of not knowable
night's utmost nothing,wanders a little guess
(only which is this world)more my life does
not leap than with the mystery your smile
sings or if(spiralling as luminous
they climb oblivion)voices who are dreams,
less into heaven certainly earth swims
than each my deeper death becomes your kiss
losing through you what seemed myself,i find
selves unimaginably mine;beyond
sorrow's own joys and hoping's very fears
yours is the light by which my spirit's born:
yours is the darkness of my soul's return
-you are my sun,my moon,and all my stars

e.e. cummings

hedgehogs are my new passion.

Friday, January 28, 2011

may my heart

may my heart always be open to little
birds who are the secrets of living
whatever they sing is better than to know
and if men should not hear them men are old

may my mind stroll about hungry
and fearless and thirsty and supple
and even if it's sunday may i be wrong
for whenever men are right they are not young

and may myself do nothing usefully
and love yourself so more than truly
there's never been quite such a fool who could fail
pulling all the sky over him with one smile

-e.e. cummings

dear hamer,

i love you. i'm glad you're not lactose intolerant. i would like to have breakfast with you. i would like to have afternoon tea with you. i like the grand canyon with you. i'll let you see me in my undies. i love you.

About Me

My photo
i love cats, theatre, fashion, and sleeping.