1. Cy Twombly died on July 5th, and my friend Margaret suggested I post some of his work. It took me a while to figure out how to articulate just why I like him so much, but here it is: Twombly’s style is so completely his, and so easily identifiable-rarely did he stray from delicate doodles and splotches that are his hallmarks-yet within the confines of that vocabulary, he expresses such a range of feeling and experience. Sure, the playfully sexual paintings full of floating genitalia are the most fun, but those same childlike lines frantically depict violence in his (incredibly disturbing) Leda and the Swan series. Anyway, here are a few of my favorite paintings. You should really go see them in person, they are far more arresting in front of you than on your computer screen. 

  2. Mountain Dew Commercial Disguised as a Love Poem
    by Matthew Olzmann 

    Here’s what I’ve got, the reasons why our marriage
    might work: Because you wear pink but write poems
    about bullets and gravestones. Because you yell
    at your keys when you lose them, and laugh,
    loudly, at your own jokes. Because you can hold a pistol,
    gut a pig. Because you memorize songs, even commercials
    from thirty years back and sing them when vacuuming.
    You have soft hands. Because when we moved, the contents
    of what you packed were written inside the boxes.
    Because you think swans are overrated.
    Because you drove me to the train station. You drove me
    to Minneapolis. You drove me to Providence.
    Because you underline everything you read, and circle
    the things you think are important, and put stars next
    to the things you think I should think are important,
    and write notes in the margins about all the people
    you’re mad at and my name almost never appears there.
    Because you make that pork recipe you found
    in the Frida Khalo Cookbook. Because when you read
    that essay about Rilke, you underlined the whole thing
    except the part where Rilke says love means to deny the self
    and to be consumed in flames. Because when the lights
    are off, the curtains drawn, and an additional sheet is nailed
    over the windows, you still believe someone outside
    can see you. And one day five summers ago,
    when you couldn’t put gas in your car, when your fridge
    was so empty—not even leftovers or condiments—
    there was a single twenty-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew,
    which you paid for with your last damn dime
    because you once overheard me say that I liked it.

  3. The Ships Are Made Ready in Silence

    Moored to the same ring:
    The hour, the darkness and I,
    Our compasses hooded like falcons.

    Now the memory of you comes aching in
    With a wash of broken bits which never left port
    In which once we planned voyages,
    They come knocking like hearts asking:
    What departures on this tide?

    Breath of land, warm breath,
    You tighten the cold around the navel,
    Though all shores but the first have been foreign,
    And the first was not home until left behind.

    Our choice is ours but we have not made it,
    Containing as it does, our destination
    Circled with loss as with coral, and
    A destination only until attained.

    I have left you my hope to remember me by,
    Though now there is little resemblance.
    At this moment I could believe in no change,
    The mast perpetually
    Vacillating between the same constellations,
    The night never withdrawing its dark virtue
    From the harbor shaped as a heart,
    The sea pulsing as a heart,
    The sky vaulted as a heart,
    Where I know the light will shatter like a cry
    Above a discovery:
    Emptiness! Look!”
    Look. This is the morning.

    W. S. Merwin

  4. Study of Legs Lerolle Henry

    Study of Legs Lerolle Henry

  5. Sophia Loren and Elvis Presley

    Sophia Loren and Elvis Presley

  6. Epitaph

    "He stole forsythia.

    He lived for love.

    He never got caught.”

    -Jim Moore

  7. Oh man, Kristian Matsson’s stache turned into a beard. This song is off his newest EP. Swoon.

  8. wait…a picture isn’t good enough

About me