"Funnel Of Love" by Wanda Jackson.
Take note of the songs that make you run faster.
"Let's Get Lost" by Chet Baker.
Perpetual "I need something to ease my mind" song.
"New Year" by Kyle Sammond.
Find a friend who will make a song and give you a supportive shout-out on it.
My latest library haul includes:
"Forest Dark" by Nicole Krauss. "One of America’s most important novelists" (New York Times), the award-winning, New York Times bestselling author of The History of Love, conjures an achingly beautiful and breathtakingly original novel about personal transformation that interweaves the stories of two disparate individuals—an older lawyer and a young novelist—whose transcendental search leads them to the same Israeli desert. I really loved "The History of Love," so fingers crossed.
Will Write for Food by Dianne Jacob. "Whenever someone emails me about how to pursue a career in food writing, I politely tell them they're in the wrong place, that I have no idea what I'm doing, and to buy this book instead." - Deb Perelman, author of The Smitten Kitchen Cookbook and smittenkitchen.com
My latest internet dive recommendations:
Katja Blichfeld Gets What She Wants. As a fan of the series "High Maintenance" I was interested, but it goes way beyond that. One of the other tattoos she got this year is of the words “Best Crab,” an inside joke with Gregory. According to him, it’s about how she wants “to nurture and grow people,” sometimes at her own expense — like the character in Joy Luck Club who takes the worst crab for herself, rather than reaching for the best one.
"I Made the Pizza Cinnamon Rolls from Mario Batali’s Sexual Misconduct Apology Letter." The recipe calls for too much icing, and the result is that the rolls are drenched in it. We’ve reached the “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME” portion of the recipe.
I did a fair amount of driving, wandering and exploring last week. I went to D.C.—journal store, book store, post office, cafe, hot foamy drinks and a sense of contentment. I went to Princeton, New Jersey—Thai food, introductions, wonderment, brisk air, architecture, ginger turmeric tea, bustling shops and the best gooey chocolate chip blondie. I went to Baltimore—terrible drivers, brick streets, velvet clothes, fizzy pineapple water and the best air vents by way of H&S Bakery (it's like I could taste warm cinnamon raisin bread from the gusts of wind).
In the spirit of "dress for the job you want," I got myself some glittery socks and a blue velvet top. I'm not sure exactly what this says, but I like it.
"The End of the F***ing World." One day last week I went to Netflix and this show was the first image on the page. I hovered over the title as the trailer played and found myself intrigued. Fit my British kick of late and seemed like a love story I could handle without crying. Then it proceeded to exceed my expectations. The music is superb. The characters and actors are heartbreaking and hilarious. I wish there were 20 more episodes to watch. For your own curiosity and the slightest of descriptions, it's "deceptively endearing for a story about a 17-year-old self-diagnosed psychopath and the teen girl that he’s determined to murder in cold blood."
The sky. The other day I noticed my photo feed was filled with pictures of the sky. I've been getting so excited about how beautiful it looks. To be so enamored with the sky, what a great feeling! Saturday I was driving on a highway ramp, getting on I-95 South, when I gasped, I hollered, THE SKY! It was one of the most incredible views I've ever seen—even in all the grime of the city and cement. The brightness, the vastness, the glow, the colors, the clouds, the shadows and shimmers in a billowing smokestack... I wanted to take a picture so badly, but—I'm responsible—and I just wanted to savor the moment with my eyes and my mind.
P.s. Happy Birthday to my sweet baby angel, Joshua.