Can we talk about how this May is going to be the greatest month of ALL OF OUR LIVES?
Or maybe just mine. But seriously, guys...
First up, there's going to be a James Blake DJ set happening in my life. A JAMES BLAKE DJ SET!
Shortly after I calm down from that happening (you know, like a week later), I'll be seeing Daughter at Lincoln Hall. And I have a sneaking suspicion it's going to be amazing:
Then, the moment I've been waiting for, for what seems like an entirety. The Great Gatsby comes out in theaters. (Here's hoping Tobey Maguire doesn't ruin everything for all of us.) But regardless, we need to talk about the soundtrack.
BECAUSE IT'S MY DREAM:
As if all of that isn't enough excitement, The National's new album, Trouble Will Find Me, comes out May 21st. (To explain just how pumped I am about this, I think my documented love of The National speaks for itself.) I'll be seeing them for the third time this summer at Lollapalooza, and I simply cannot wait to sing along and weep and spill red wine all over myself along with Matt Berninger in the Chicago August heat!
Not to mention: This. Single. ("I can't fight it anymore, I am going through an awkward phase...")
This could be the best May yet!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Poetry Slam Tuesdays: To Be Wild and Perfect for a Moment, Before
Peonies
by Mary Oliver
This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open--
pools of lace,
white and pink--
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities--
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again--
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?
by Mary Oliver
This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open--
pools of lace,
white and pink--
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities--
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again--
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?
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