Literary Notes

     

Unlike other summers, this one came with a long search for a good read. The total number of novels I had checked out from my local library and, only to my dismay, returned with less than a chapter digested was a whopping ten. 

And then, it was finally my turn. After a long three month wait for my hold on the book, Sweetbitter, it was finally mine. Here are a few lines from the book--the first in forever where I am currently 242 pages in, after less than 12 hours.  

"Lust rubied my blood, gave me the gait of an uncaught criminal, and I felt like I could walk forever" 

"Sometimes my sadness felt so deep it must have been inherited. I had a refrain, and though I evened out my breath by the time I got to First Avenue, the refrain wouldn't leave me. It was gutural and illogical and I repeated it endlessly like a chant: Please don't leave me, please don't leave me..."

"We went outside. The air tasted of steel knives and filtered water. An actual chill like a warning." 

Got You Pegged

(We love you Ira Glass!)

I recently listened to this archived episode of This American Life while busily CADing away at work. In this episode, all four acts of the hour long podcast revolves around issues of snap judgements about other people. Though all four stories were superb (the first one by Richard Price is really great), the last one by Shalom Auslander discusses how he ruined one particular vacation because of his continuous skepticism towards strangers.

In light of all the unfortunate event's happening around the nation, this cynically accurate quote by Auslander made me laugh and ponder at the same time...because it's so true. (You can check out the entire podcast at the link below)

"Here's the thing about people. I don't really like them. That's why I find racism so curious. There are so many reasons to dislike people. You're going to go with color? So I avoid the people whenever possible and try to keep my distance. It's really better for everyone." - Shalom Auslander, Paradise Lost (Aug. 22 2008) 

This American Life - 362: Got You Pegged

Snippets from The Times

                                    

Metropolitan Diary- Clipping #3

Dear Diary,

I saw him walking toward me along the east side of the Union Square farmers' market on the first 90-degree Saturday of the spring season. He had a Bible or some such black religious book in his prayerfully positioned hands.

Keep up the wall, I said to myself, resolutely staring into the fine afternoon at some distant point ahead so I could avoid any sort of interaction with the Bible-stomping missionary heading my way. Of course, what you resist persists, and he had my number. A fallen-away Catholic of mixed Jewish heritage, which I most likely projected with my jeans, gold jewelry and curly hair, an open-minded softy for sure.

But instead of asking if I believed in Jehovah, Jesus, Allah, or Yaweh, he asked the type of question that I, as a New Yorker, willingly stop to answer. He asked for direction. "Do you know where I can find..."

I paused imperceptibly to hear the whole question. Was he looking for a Starbucks? There was one across the street. The farmers' market? It's just a few yards to his right. The subway? Keep walking; it's straight ahead.

But no, he finished his question with "...an organic smile?" And so I gave him what he sought. I smiled, organically, and I imagine that he smiled back, perhaps divinely, though I didn't stop to see his response.

- Mary Vanderwoude

(July 4, 2016)

All I Was Searching for was Me

(Wanderer Above the Sea of Clouds - Caspar David Friedrich - 1818)

Over the course of my college experience, I've had my fair share of regrets. Maybe even one too many. There are a few that I've been able to bounce back from, but some have really shook me to my core. To all those out there who have made mistakes and wrong choices, remember you're only human. Try your best to put the past behind, and most importantly guard your heart.

Keep your head up!

Thoughts on Writing

(rivaynyc)

I've always wanted to be a writer. Though I pride myself in what I think is good writing and my extreme penchant for reading, I don't even come close to the naturally talented student writers and journalists out there in the world. Recently, I have been religiously following podcasts like 99% Invisible and NYT Modern Love. All require clever journalism, engaging topics, and without a doubt some darn good writing. A mutual colleague of mine has a blog solely dedicated to his witty stream-of-consciousness writing style documenting the struggles of a "living at home, recent college grad, unemployed but satisfied" life. My former coworker recently discovered her secretly sensitive boyfriend's stash of personal journals. Everyone around me seems to be writing, scratch that--not just writing--but writing good writing on an almost everyday basis.

Me?

Not even close.

Current Obsession.

(Brian Rea via NY Times)

Podcasts. Ever since I started listening to NPR/KCRW during my frustrating rush-hour commutes to Culver City over the summer, I've been fascinated by the soothing sound of stranger's voices reporting on everything from the latest breaking news to hilarious short stories. Queue: Serial, Modern Love, RadioLab, This American Life. I've learned so much about current trends, historic cases, human error, missed connections, and lost love through the detached and mysterious voices behind the many amazing podcasts out in the virtual world right now. Thanks NPR for being so cool.

Vers Une Architecture

Hello friend. It's been a while. Are you still there? Because I've (almost) forgotten about you.

The Architect, by his arrangement of forms, realizes an order which is a pure creation of his spirit; by forms and shapes he affects our senses to an acute degree and provokes plastic emotions, by the relationship which he creates he wakes profound echoes in us, he gives us the measure of an order which we feel to be in accordance with that of our world, he determines the various movement of our heart and of our understanding. It is then that we experience the sense of beauty. - Le Corbusier