December 14, 2011
November 25, 2011
November 09, 2011
OSCAR WILDE
- personal favorites are in red -
Alas, I am dying beyond my means.
All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.
Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much.
An excellent man; he has no enemies; and none of his friends like him.
An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
Arguments are to be avoided: they are always vulgar and often convincing.
Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known.
Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.
Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same.
By giving us the opinions of the uneducated, journalism keeps us in touch with the ignorance of the community.
Charity creates a multitude of sins.
Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.
Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.
Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.
Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.
Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.
Everybody who is incapable of learning has taken to teaching.
Everything popular is wrong.
Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.
Hatred is blind, as well as love.
How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.
I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.
I am not young enough to know everything.
I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.
I can resist everything except temptation.
I can stand brute force, but brute reason is quite unbearable. There is something unfair about its use. It is hitting below the intellect.
I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their intellects. A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies.
I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.
Alas, I am dying beyond my means.
All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.
Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much.
An excellent man; he has no enemies; and none of his friends like him.
An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all.
Arguments are to be avoided: they are always vulgar and often convincing.
Art is the most intense mode of individualism that the world has known.
Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship.
Bigamy is having one wife too many. Monogamy is the same.
By giving us the opinions of the uneducated, journalism keeps us in touch with the ignorance of the community.
Charity creates a multitude of sins.
Children begin by loving their parents; after a time they judge them; rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.
Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.
Deceiving others. That is what the world calls a romance.
Democracy means simply the bludgeoning of the people by the people for the people.
Do you really think it is weakness that yields to temptation? I tell you that there are terrible temptations which it requires strength, strength and courage to yield to.
Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.
Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.
Everybody who is incapable of learning has taken to teaching.
Everything popular is wrong.
Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.
Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.
Hatred is blind, as well as love.
How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.
I always pass on good advice. It is the only thing to do with it. It is never of any use to oneself.
I am not young enough to know everything.
I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.
I can resist everything except temptation.
I can stand brute force, but brute reason is quite unbearable. There is something unfair about its use. It is hitting below the intellect.
I choose my friends for their good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies for their intellects. A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies.
I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.
October 17, 2011
October 08, 2011
the SAN JUAN ISLANDS
The San Juan Islands (part of the state of Washington) are an archipelago in the northwest corner of the US Mainland between the state of Washington and Vancouver, British Colombia.
Three days around and in between the islands by ferry and bicycle
Poetry on a boat
pastel drawings on a dock
singing next to the fire on the beach
singing... singing..... singing.......... singing.......
Three days around and in between the islands by ferry and bicycle
 |
| CREEPY LONELY FERRY |
 |
| MORE OF THE CREEPY LONELY FERRY |
 | ||||
| LONELY SAILBOAT |
 |
| LONELY LIGHTS |
Poetry on a boat
pastel drawings on a dock
singing next to the fire on the beach
singing... singing..... singing.......... singing.......
 |
| Contemplating on a Grand Marnier |
August 26, 2011
August 14, 2011
PLEASE WATCH THIS TV SITCOM
...if you haven't already. Only lasted 3 seasons (2003-2006) because the show was just too smart for the dumb TV viewers yet it was very well acclaimed and won several awards
August 11, 2011
JEFF BUCKLEY
Beautiful kid (oh, and singer/songwriter) that changed the genre of...uh, well many genres. My favorite of his styles is when he goes folklore/alternative.
He was uber famous during his time but kept preferring performances in small bars rather than big concerts. In 1997 he drowned in the Mississippi river at 30.
August 06, 2011
The Bells*, Edgar Allan Poe
*notice how the bells evoke different emotions in him as time passes by.
I
Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells -
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight! -
From the molten - golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle - dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! - how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III
Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now - now to sit, or never,
By the side of the pale - faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clanging of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people -
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human -
They are Ghouls: -
And their king it is who tolls: -
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells: -
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells: -
To the sobbing of the bells: -
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the tolling of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells, -
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
I
Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells -
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight! -
From the molten - golden notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle - dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! - how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III
Hear the loud alarum bells -
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor
Now - now to sit, or never,
By the side of the pale - faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear, it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows;
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells -
Of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells -
In the clamor and the clanging of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells -
Iron bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people - ah, the people -
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All alone,
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone -
They are neither man nor woman -
They are neither brute nor human -
They are Ghouls: -
And their king it is who tolls: -
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells: -
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells: -
To the sobbing of the bells: -
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells -
To the tolling of the bells -
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells, -
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.
July 17, 2011
2-floor bookstore full of vintage editions of classics in paperback, hardcover, magazines, etc. The shelves cover all the walls and the second floor in maze-form.
There's a coffee bar with great expresso and a champagne bar with prohibitely expensive but delicious bubblies
Earl Grey tea and a Nabokov collection of stories
From a book about old movie classics
 |
| From the Complete Collection of The New Yorker Cartoons since the 1920s! |
I needed a break and thought being alone would do me good. He texted me later that night letting me know at which Patton Ave bar he was. I proudly chose to ignore his message and start writing. This is what turned out 'inking' six long napkins;
Nabokov wasn't doing it
The room was dimly lit and enclosed by shelves of colored book borders that skipped in front of my pupils in vertical rainbow form. They were definitely a distraction. There was a wedding reception in the room below mine. It was probably the best man toasting. His light, humorous tone attracted my hearing, his occasional nervous halts deviated it but he did raise small intermezzos of laughter from the cloud of snobs that surrounded him. It wasn't enough, though; I had to think of something else.
One of the cigarettes was broken. The other one wasn't but both were wrinkled to the fashion of a pocket-to-thigh press. Should I smoke the good one now?
The tea; Earl Grey because of a movie I had watched recently. It wasn't bad, fake sugar and all. Nah, still not enough
Nabokov wasn't doing it
Neither was Faulkner nor his words like mudchinking and ramshackle. Nor the details of a German Shorthaired Pointer's coat illustrated in the restroom [which was short and thick except in the ears and head were it was soft]. His tail and ears were comprehensively explained too.
The table, probably six foot by one, with an indented appearance, with the look and feel of unrefined wood coated with enamel, was covered with books of camping, old cinema pictures, The New Yorker cartoons...It was golden oak and a contre coeur with the black and red chairs, next to the red walls and the green-lined door. I knew I had to think of something else
Nabokov wasn't doing it.
Neither was Faulkner nor the bits of Mahler's No. 2, Saint-Saens' Danse Macabre, Grieg's Peer Gynt that skipped my head to the rhythm of my fingers' flicker of the discs. I delved four of five shelves of $4.99 CDs, curiously placed next to an unused kitchen sink in the library's second floor. The whole place was a continous assembly of mazes made of leaves of pages that smelled humid. I did humor myself by going through them several times, losing the stairs once and hiding for about an hour in the most tucked up corner I found.
There were still scraps and strips of tunes left but not deafening enough to quiet my irascible and persistent thought.
I had to think of something else.
I sat at the table still restless, but very tired. Was it the walking? The thinking?
Nabokov wasn't going to do it. Nor was Faulkner. I didn't care about the castle, the cloud or the lake in Russia or the founding of Yoknapatawpha County. There were a couple of light blue eyes about two blocks away from the books that I could stare at for hours. He probably felt warm and I was feeling cold. Mahler wasn't going to do it. My fingertips liked rummaging through his curls more than playing with this pen.
I lit my wrinkled cigarette as I asked the couple outside where Patton Ave was.
July 03, 2011
letmewatchthis.com
This site lets you stream movies for free. I recommend Wes Anderson's THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS
http://www.putlocker.com/file/6EP383GZU70GWW#
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http://www.putlocker.com/file/6EP383GZU70GWW#
May 26, 2011
MMMM....RATATOUILLE
Ingredients
- 2 onion, sliced into thin rings
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 medium eggplant, cubed
- 2 zucchini, cubed
- 2 medium yellow squash, cubed
- 2 green bell peppers, seeded and cubed
- 1 yellow bell pepper, diced
- 1 chopped red bell pepper
- 4 roma (plum) tomatoes, chopped
- 1/2 cup olive oil
- 1 bay leaf
- 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
- 4 sprigs fresh thyme
- salt and pepper to taste
 | |||
| Primera cena que hice en mi casa en Charleston, SC |
Directions
- Heat 1 1/2 tablespoon of the oil in a large pot over medium-low heat. Add the onions and garlic and cook until soft.
- In a large skillet, heat 1 1/2 tablespoon of olive oil and saute the zucchini in batches until slightly browned on all sides. Remove the zucchini and place in the pot with the onions and garlic.
- Saute all the remaining vegetables one batch at a time, adding 1 1/2 tablespoon olive oil to the skillet each time you add a new set of vegetables. Once each batch has been sauteed add them to the large pot as was done in step 2.
- Season with salt and pepper. Add the bay leaf and thyme and cover the pot. Cook over medium heat for 15 to 20 minutes.
- Add the chopped tomatoes and parsley to the large pot, cook another 10-15 minutes. Stir occasionally.
- Remove the bay leaf and adjust seasoning.
 |
| De mis peliculas favoritas |
BOCCE
Bocce (sometimes anglicized as bocci or boccie) is a ball sport belonging to the boules sport family, closely related to bowls and petanque with a common ancestry from ancient games played in the Roman Empire
PARA LA PLAYA,/PARQUE/PATIO, etc
Se tira la bolita blanca primero a donde sea. Los diferentes jugadores trataran de tirar su bola (las mas grandes) lo mas cerca posible a la blanca o incluso pegarle. Si le pegas a la blanca es 1 punto y si, despues de todo el mundo haber tirado su bola, eres la bola mas cerca a la blanca tambien tienes 1 pto.
Creo que usualmente se juega hasta el primero que alcance 11 ptos pero, quien sabe; inventate esas reglas ;)
May 10, 2011
street art
http://www.streetartutopia.com/?p=2014 <------visit this link!
or just go to stumble.com and download their app
or just go to stumble.com and download their app
May 08, 2011
May 02, 2011
VISIT THIS SITE ----> http://motherjones.com/ <--- VISIT THIS SITE
Mary Harris "Mother" Jones (August 1, 1837 – November 30, 1930), born in Cork, Ireland, was a prominent American labor and community organizer, who helped coordinate major strikes and co-founded the Industrial Workers of the World.
She worked as a teacher and dressmaker but after her husband and four children all died of yellow fever and her workshop was destroyed in a fire in 1871 she began working as an organizer for the Knights of LaborUnited Mine Workers union. and the
She was a very effective speaker, punctuating her speeches with stories, audience participation, humor and dramatic stunts. From 1897 (when she was 60) she was known as Mother Jones and in 1902 she was called "the most dangerous woman in America" for her success in organizing mine workers and their families against the mine owners. In 1903, upset about the lax enforcement of the child labour laws in the Pennsylvania mines and silk mills, she organized a Children's March from Philadelphia to the home of then president Theodore Roosevelt in New York.
The magazine Mother Jones, established in 1970, is named after her.
In the 1989-90 Pittston Coal strike the wives and daughters of the miners organized themselves as the "Daughters of Mother Jones" and represented the strikers to the press.
She worked as a teacher and dressmaker but after her husband and four children all died of yellow fever and her workshop was destroyed in a fire in 1871 she began working as an organizer for the Knights of LaborUnited Mine Workers union. and the
The magazine Mother Jones, established in 1970, is named after her.
In the 1989-90 Pittston Coal strike the wives and daughters of the miners organized themselves as the "Daughters of Mother Jones" and represented the strikers to the press.
April 12, 2011
IRON AND WINE
iron
iron art
winemy favorite region; Priorat
Iron and Wine
Samuel Beam, American singer/songwriter
my COSMO
1. Cover fresh cranberries with vodka for at least 5 days in a closed jar
2. Lime juice, Triple Sec and a hint of grenadine
(optional; No granadine, Yes lemon!)
3. Mix all with icy water AND POUR!
4. VOILA! Doesn't look like much but I promise you its top 5 in your all-time cocktail list
April 10, 2011
ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP POP!
...And now I feel like, oh, you're the reason why I'm thinking
I don't wanna smoke all these cigarettes no more
I guess this is what I get for wishful thinking
I should've never let you into my door
Next time you wanna go on and leave
I should just let you go on and do it
It's not amusing like I believe
It's like I checked into rehab
Baby, you're my disease...
I don't wanna smoke all these cigarettes no more
I guess this is what I get for wishful thinking
I should've never let you into my door
Next time you wanna go on and leave
I should just let you go on and do it
It's not amusing like I believe
It's like I checked into rehab
Baby, you're my disease...
April 06, 2011
FOOD GAWKER
LATEST RECIPE AND WHERE I GOT IT FROM
foodgawker.com
foodgawker.com
Carrot Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting
Adapted from Baking Illustrated
This recipe is great halved and baked in an 8x8-inch pan if you don't need to feed a crowd or stress.
Because they are akin to toddler currency and I always have them on hand, I used baby carrots for this recipe.
Be sure your cream cheese and butter are completely at room temperature before making the icing to get the best consistency.
For the cake:
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 1/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon (I love Vietnamese cinnamon)
1/2 teaspoon freshly grate nutmeg
1/8 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 pound (about 6 to 7 medium) carrots, peeled (or an equal amount of baby carrots)
1 1 /2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
4 large eggs
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups vegetable oil
For the frosting:
8 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 tablespoon sour cream
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups confectioners' sugar, plus a little extra for adjusting the consistency of the icing
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 9x13-inch baking pan with cooking spray and line the bottom with parchment paper.
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and salt.
Fit a food processor with the shredding disk, and shred the carrots into it. Dump the carrots into the bowl with the dry ingredients. Wipe out the bowl of the food processor with a paper towel--don't worry about getting it perfectly clean.
Pace the bowl back on the processor, and place in it the sugar, brown sugar, eggs and vanilla. run the processor to blend throughly, about 20 seconds. With the processor running, pour in the oil in a steady stream. Blend 20 seconds more.
Stir together the shredded carrots and flour until evenly mixed, and make a well in the center. Pour in the wet ingredients and stir well with a rubber spatula until the batter is evenly mixed and no lumps of dry ingredients remain. Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 35-40 minutes. Set the pan on a wire rack and let the cake cool completely, about 1 1/2 to 2 hours.
When the cake is cool, make the icing. In the clean bowl of a food processor, place the cream cheese, butter, sour cream and vanilla. Process until smooth, stopping to scrape down the bowl as necessary. Dump in the confectioners' sugar and process again just until smooth, about 10-15 seconds. Be careful not to overwork the icing, as it will start to break down if blended for too long.
Generously ice the cake, cut into squares and serve. Tightly cover and refrigerate any leftovers.
March 23, 2011
DAMN YOUR HAZELNUTTY GOODNESS!
Stay away from me you high-fructose corn syrup piece of s...weet. You ain't no good for me and, believe me, I ain't no good for you!
March 22, 2011
March 18, 2011
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