Once, I went to Praha

Lately I've been thinking a lot about my time in Europe. Mostly, I wish I could go back to London for an extended period of time, but also, I wish I could go back to Prague. Everything seemed sort of magical there. Every other block, it seemed, there would be a random statue. It was beautiful. All of it. Every building, every tree, every bridge, held some sort of mystery to me. Even the money seemed vaguely unreal, like I was in Wonderland, and no longer in Europe. We stayed in this hostel that made me feel like I was in a movie, and I read Girl with a Pearl Earring. Why I read it in Prague that weekend, and not the weekend I was in Amsterdam, is another mystery to me.

When I was in Prague, my hair was red. I remember, when my friends and I walked all the way up to the top of this steeple, I looked out at the beautiful, old city and told myself, Remember this. Remember. 

This is what I saw:  

My hair was blowing in my eyes, but it really didn't matter. Because I was there, in Praha, and the rooftops were red and so was my hair.

Poetry Slam Tuesdays: Being Fool to Fancy

Another one from E.E. Cummings' Collected Poems, 1922-1938. (Poem No. 5, this time.)

it is at moments after i have dreamed
of the rare entertainment of your eyes,
when(being fool to fancy)i have deemed

with your peculiar mouth my heart made wise;
at moments when the glassy darkness holds

the genuine apparition of your smile
(it was through tears always)and silence moulds
such strangeness as was mine a little while;

moments when my once more illustrious arms
are filled with fascination,when my breast
wears the intolerant brightness of your charms:

one pierced moment whiter than the rest

—turning from the tremendous lie of sleep
i watch the roses of the day grow deep

Will You Ever Forgive Me?

Yikes. Apparently I've started a new trend on the Rainbow Chronicles that involves me only posting on Mondays. And only about music. I swear my brain is not totally devoid of all thoughts except this. I swear it. I know you've all been crying and screaming at your computer screens:

"Where are the poetry slams?! The awesomely awkward adventures?! The magical moments waiting tables?!

AND WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO SUNDAY SWAYZE FEST?!!!!!"

Am I right? I knew it. Don't fret, my darlings. I have not forgotten you. More poetry slams are in the works. I am still always, always, awesomely awkward. Living in Knightstown just doesn't seem to warrant the awkward adventures that being in Chicago did. Maybe that has something to do with the fact that when I'm not at work, I'm hanging out in my childhood bedroom, having long debates with my cats? I mean ... WHAT? I don't talk to my cats. That would be weird. And speaking of work, I had to sign a "social media contract," which essentially means I'm no longer allowed to document my current magical moments waiting tables. Sigh. I will say this: There have been plenty this summer. PLENTY.

As for Swayze fest ... well, it's just been too hard. Although my brother Tom and I are still planning our North and South marathon, which might actually happen one of these days.

Two other major excuses for not blogging: I've been working on a submission for an essay contest, and my brother Jay got married this past weekend. In other words, I am unable to concentrate on more than two things at once.

I'm not quite yet ready to work on my entry for the Writer's Digest Short Short Story competition this year, so maybe I'll actually blog consistently for a bit.

Maybe. I'm not making any promises.

Monday Mix Tapes: I Heart NPR Music

If you're not hip to NPR's "First Listen" feature, you're missing out. I am 100 percent obsessed with it.

Just a sample of the awesomeness it's allowed me to hear, prior to the album release: The Black Keys' Brothers, Jenny and Johnny's I'm Having Fun Now, The Swell Season's Strict Joy, and Joanna Newsom's Have One on Me.

And that's only a sample of the awesomeness! (Yes, I have now used the made-up word, awesomeness, twice in one post. Three times.)

So far today, while attempting to be a grownup and organize my finances (ha!), I have already listened to the new Deerhunter album and am currently falling in love with "a young man Aloe Blacc" (to borrow NPR's turn of phrase). Seriously. Click on that bizness. He's incredible.

After that, my heart is about to go pitter pat for my first full listen of the new John Legend and The Roots collaboration. (I've already pre-ordered it, duh.)

How can I complain about being flat broke when I'm listening to all this awesomeness, sitting on our back porch eating my pop's leftover chicken pot pie?

I can't. Now go brighten your Monday and listen to some music. If you've got any homemade chicken pot pie, all the better.

Monday Mix Tapes: Darling, I'm Drunk

Broad Ripple better not be fucking burning this Wednesday, that's all I can say.



I'm anxious to see if my love will still hold strong, minus some of my favorite Margot members of yore. Also, Mr. Bryan Johnson, in the future, could you not reference this lineup change as Margot having "trimmed the fat a bit," please? That hurts my heart.

Still, cannot wait to own Buzzard!



"I'm never gonna break your heart/not unless I have to ..."

Brainy, Brainy, Brainy

It's getting to the point where I'm starting to think in The National lyrics. I need to calm down. And listen to something else. Wait, no, I can't.

The best I could do was take a break from High Violet and fall back in love with Boxer. What can I say? "My leg is sparkles, my leg is pins ..."

Right Foot Blue

Ahh, I miss college. Almost as much as I miss this shirt.

Oh, to be underage and playing Twister in a paisley shirt! It was a different time ... an era when my walls were covered with Bob Marley posters, I adamantly and loudly protested the presence of marijuana at my apartment, and I refused to accept the irony.

so this was what it was like being 19.

nope, wait. THIS is more accurate.

Now, what in the SHIT did I do with that shirt?

One Last Song ("I'm Too Young to Feel This Old")

A friend of mine has died.

When I got the news yesterday, I was getting ready for The Black Keys/Kings of Leon concert, running a little behind because I was looking up Black Keys’ videos on YouTube. Right as I found the ideal one to post on my Facebook profile, my friend Natalie messaged me on Facebook, asking if I’d heard the news about Nicole.

I had not. Of course, this now meant she was forced to tell me the news, whatever it was, via Facebook chat.

All I could do was stare at my computer screen and think how absurd the whole thing was. Here I was, about to post a video and some stupid comment about wearing a Goonies shirt and going to the show, and this girl, Nikki, my friend, my former co-worker, was dead.

I couldn’t believe it.

I had to leave for Indianapolis. I had to fix my hair. What was there to do? Believe it or not, I couldn’t cry. So I walked away from my MacBook and tried to get ready, but I couldn’t do that, either. I wrapped a scarf around my head, and that made me feel better for a second. I texted my friend Lauren. I talked to my friend Rachel. Suddenly it all seemed real.

On the drive to Indianapolis, I blared The Black Keys and wondered why I didn’t feel like crying. But my arms were covered in goose bumps and I kept alternating between sweating and having cold chills. I rolled the windows down. I rolled the windows up. I turned up the volume.

I thought about Nikki. I hadn’t seen her in months, not since before I moved back home. We weren’t close friends. We weren’t even the kind of friends who texted or met up for coffee or anything like that. The last time I had actually hung out with her was months and months ago, when a group of girls from work all went out together.

I remember that night, a few of us stayed out later and went to another bar. We’d had too much to drink, but it was one of those nights when you don’t want the fun to end. So you stay out, even when you probably shouldn’t.

Nikki sat next to me at the bar. Out of nowhere, she kind of spilled her guts to me about something. I remember feeling a little shocked that she was telling me all this—these things, these feelings that were clearly weighing heavy on her at the time. Because, like I said, we weren’t particularly close. Mostly, we just chatted while at work together, and when I’d get off of work and ask for a beer, she’d always wink at me and say, “Stella, right?”