“The first love of my life never saw me naked. There was always a parent coming home in a half hour, always a little brother in the next room. Always too much body and not enough time for me to show him. Instead, I gave him my shoulder, my elbow, the bend of my knee. I lent him my corners, my edges, the parts of me I could afford to offer - the parts I had long since given up trying to hide. He never asked for more. He gave me back his eyelashes, the back of his neck, his palms… we held each piece we were given like it was a nectarine that could bruise if we weren’t careful. We collected them like we were trying to build an orchard. And the spaces that he never saw, the ones my parents had labeled “private parts” when I was still small enough to fit all of myself and worries inside a bathtub, I made up for them by handing over all the private parts of me. There was no secret I didn’t tell him, there was no moment I didn’t share - and we didn’t grow UP, we grew IN, like ivy wrapping, molding each other into perfect yings and yangs. We kissed with mouths open, breathing his exhale into my inhale - we could have survived underwater or outer space. Living only off the breath we traded, we spelled love, G-I-V-E. I never wanted to hide my body from him. If I could have, I would have given it all away with the rest of me. I did not know it was possible to save some things for myself. Some nights I wake up knowing he is anxious, he is across the world in another woman’s arms - the years have spread us like dandelion seeds - sanding down the edges of our jigsaw parts that used to only fit each other. He drinks from the pitcher on the night stand, checks the digital clock, it is 5am. He tosses in sheets and tries to settle, I wait for him to sleep. Before tucking myself into elbows and knees reaching for things I have long since giving away.”—Private Parts, Sarah Kay (via stacygirlfren)
Which is why TYPICALLY I don’t even both with these app games because I start hating them. Yet, somehow, this one suckered me in. Excuse me while I go take 16 hours to catch up on all the games I have going now.
I was pretty happy to stumble upon this list today of New England’s 10 Best Cities and to see that not only is my hometown of Essex, VT #4 on the list, but there are a total of 4 cities in the county on the list. In case anyone needed further convincing that Chittenden County, Vermont might be the best place ever to grow up and live.
I may be getting more used to upstate NY, but my heart will always always always be in Vermont.
Thank you! (And also to Megan who followed quickly with the same answer) I am definitely going to be watching that soon. Know what else I now have a hankering to watch? Did anyone else love “Model Behavior”?
For the first time cameras are taken outside of the Top Chef kitchen and into the lives of Bravo’s most beloved former cheftestants as they reach milestones in their personal lives and culinary careers. From opening their own restaurants to expanding their growing franchises, viewers will follow Jen Carroll in Philadelphia, Richard Blais in Atlanta, Fabio Viviani in Los Angeles, and Spike Mendelsohn in D.C.
Richard Blais and Fabio Viviani… Richard Blais AND Fabio Viviani… RICHARD AND FABIO
The only thing more embarrassing than catching a guy on the plane looking at pornography on his computer is seeing a guy on the plane reading “The Hunger Games.” Or a Twilight book. Or Harry Potter. The only time I’m O.K. with an adult holding a children’s book is if he’s moving his mouth as he reads.
I’m sure all those books are well written. So is “Horton Hatches the Egg.” But Horton doesn’t have the depth of language and character as literature written for people who have stopped physically growing.
I appreciate that adults occasionally watch Pixar movies or play video games. That’s fine. Those media don’t require much of your brains. Books are one of our few chances to learn. There’s a reason my teachers didn’t assign me to go home and play three hours of Donkey Kong.
I have no idea what “The Hunger Games” is like. Maybe there are complicated shades of good and evil in each character. Maybe there are Pynchonesque turns of phrase. Maybe it delves into issues of identity, self-justification and anomie that would make David Foster Wallace proud. I don’t know because it’s a book for kids. I’ll read “The Hunger Games” when I finish the previous 3,000 years of fiction written for adults.
Let’s have the decency to let tween girls have their own little world of vampires and child wizards and games you play when hungry. Let’s not pump Justin Bieber in our Saabs and get engaged at Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyland. Because it’s embarrassing. You can’t take an adult seriously when he’s debating you over why Twilight vampires are O.K. with sunlight. If my parents had read “Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing” at the same time as I did, I would have looked into boarding school.