Apricot season

things bought or thought about buying recently:
























(has apricot nectar)

cover what?

The whole Mondadori Poetry Series by Italian designer Cristina Bazzoni is really quite exquisite.

brothers

Saskatchewan, Canada by John Morstad --> third picture

brilliant.

Portland International Film Festival by The Heads of State

An adroit combination of some my favorite things on paper--loose, loopy handwriting, isolation of everyday objects, and simple color blocks--that makes me marvel for longer than might be warranted, my eyes floating back and forth between seeing the lightbulb's coil and the textual information it's giving me. I'm pretty sure the reason this poster arrests me so is a facination with the path of taking a subject out of its context (in this case the Portland Film Festival), into an unrelated but somehow aesthetically connected one (a lightbulb), then bringing it back, smiling and cozy, into a new home, stylish, cunning, and comfortable.

Why weren't we given better memories?

21 coming so soon

sweet wine bottle action

Of all the hints that i am grow(i)n(g) up--i don't enjoy playing tag anymore or like watching cartoons, i have a self-censorship and a self-consciousness that silence my fidgety inquisitiveness--being able to drink is among the more tangible indicators. alchohol was largely (to completely) absent from my life for my 19 pre-college years; my parents never poured themselves a drink on holidays, the coolers at family gatherings were never stocked with beer. . . except for the couple of wine bottles that sat on the built-in wine rack in our kitchen--as if just to prevent the space from being empty--and the couple of beers in the refridgerator in the garage (neither of which i have ever seen my parents drink) alcohol did not make a mark on my childhood other than its mystery as an off-in-the-distance entity. when it did cross my mind, i suppose i thought about alcohol was a thing reserved for adults--adults even more adult than my parents, apparently. in essence, a very far away thing that would never actually experience. that i would never actually grow up.

wiley, wondrous, defying insistence

MOLLY YOUNG, with whose needly observations and french-infused vocabulary i often empathize:

On kid hair

"One of the least attractive phrases in the English language is “virgin hair”––meaning, in stylist’s parlance, hair that has never been dyed or processed. Virgin hair is difficult to find in Manhattan.

Unless you broaden your horizons to include a demographic with hair that is ALWAYS virgin: 3-5 year-olds.

Kids have the best hair. Any kind of kid. This is because a kid’s hair is uncontrollable and self-willed. No matter how tightly-braided or curled, a child’s hair will quickly escape its confines and revert to chaos.

The same thing happens to adults, too, but it is less charming for two reasons. One, an adult is usually aware of it and self-conscious. Two, an adult has dominion over his own hair, so an unsuccessful hairstyle communicates a failure of some kind. An adult’s hair is a reflection of his abilities and intentions. It is charged.

A kid’s hair, on the other hand, is not. It does not reflect the child’s self but is a force independent of both kid and whichever adult is responsible for dealing with it. A kid’s hair is like the weather: wild, unpredictable, fluctuating in temperament and not infrequently awsome."