Looking for a new yoga studio in my life. Any suggestions in the boroughs? I can’t get to San Diego for what would obvs be my chosen class.
essential oilspill
n. delight in pronouncing the names of your shampoo’s chemical ingredients—cocamidopropyl betaine, polyquaternium-10, methylchloroisothiazolinone—whose crisp syllables snap together like Legos, which momentarily reassures you that life is a cumulative stack of discrete accomplishments, not a shapeless continuum of extracts from abstracted tragedies like family, entropy, or papaya.
I do very much like this site, which offers new definitions for those things which we can’t define. Though the name does remind me of a chapter from Everything is Illuminated, in which young Yiddish gal Brod attempts to catalog all the peculiar sadnesses in the world that were previously unexpressed by words.
But this is good too.



I am taking a night class now like a real (slightly creepy) adult, and it is held inside a public high school in Manhattan, also known as P.S. Depressotron. I have made a gallery of some student artwork on the walls for your viewing enjoyments.
Does this “partnership” make anyone else feel reptilian with oldness? Just checking.
Was in South Carolina for a week eating shrimp and grits (and for a penny too, due to the infuriating Gulf crise) and running from alligators, and in that time my domain got all wonky. Fixing!
Also: Go to Charleston. It really does look like THIS.

As A. put it, “you’ve been quiet as a fucking mouse.” I’m coming back shortly. If anything, I will be stuck in a Southern state in humid hothouse hibiscus weather for over a week with my moms, and I’ll probably need somewhere else to go at some point.
I think First Aid Kit may be a band I need to pay attention to. In the younger Indigo Girls from Sweden who are still in high school sort of way?