Poem for a 33rd Birthday

When I turned 30, I was in a transitional time. A long-term relationship ended, my beloved beagle died, and I had just started a new job. So, like any bigtime nerd worth their salt, I started reading a lot of poetry. I found it comforting to know that all of the feelings have been felt, all of the dramas have unfolded. In a period of upheaval, it reassured me that my life experience was not singular.

One of my dear friends turns 33 tomorrow, and I plan to send her this poem to mark the occasion:

Matched: Holly Golightly

Holly Golightly.

She's Truman Capote's famed country mouse turned New York society girl. If you haven't read the novella, I suggest pouring a cocktail, throwing "Moon River" on the stereo, and spending some time with the girl who never found a home. It's much less breezy than the film, but well worth the time.

Happy Friday!

P.S. The Making of Holly Golightly

1. Gucci silk mini-dress 2. French blue retro phone 3. The Dark and Other Love Stories by Deborah Willis 4. Pillbox pendant 5. Black cat sleep mask 6. Bloch Classica Pearl flats 7. Chambord + champagne 8. There's Fun in Funerals

Tuesday by Alan Dugan

It was cloudy and cool today, and now the sky is very dark. The parking lot behind us is being resurfaced, so all of the cars are gone and the ground is churned up. Perfect time for a moody Tuesday poem, courtesy of Alan Dugan.

There are no lovers in the park tonight. O no. 
Cats have been put out but they don't like it and say so. 
You can hear the telephone wires weeping like poets
in a wind that fingers each nerve end with a separate shiver.

The street lights hang permanently above us like great thinkers.
O their loneliness appalls me and I turn to your brief self,
having seen their incandescence, the dreary landscape of inquiry,
and in it our cold nakedness. It's a bad night, honey, a bad night.

Time to pour some red wine and slip on some cozy socks. Fall is almost here.

Back-to-School Books for Grown-ups

For as long as I can remember, September has felt like my new year. January has never given me the same fresh-start feeling that September ushers in. Between my life as a student and my current teacher existence, I've been tuned-in to the academic calendar for 30 years (!).