kiran desai + orhan pamuk

the lovely kiran desai

and the dream man: orhan pamuk

are an item! a writer i have discovered along the way, and a writer i knew i always loved.

scandalous! also fortuitous as they are the romantic personification of my travels. (i fly into istanbul next tuesday from bom bahia.)

these are the moments that yield affirmations on the goodness of life. and oh, well, while we’re at it, let me quote a paragraph from zadie smith’s on beauty which came to my mind when i learned of the desai-pamuk “fittingness.”

“…she made you feel that just being in this moment, doing this thing, was the most important and marvelous possibility for you. she spoke often in her poetry of the idea of “fittingness”: that is, when your chosen pursuit and your ability to achieve it – no matter how small or insignificant both might be – are matched exactly, are fitting. this, she argued, is when we become truly human, fully ourselves, beautiful. to swim when your body is made for swimming. to kneel when you feel humble. to drink water when you’re thirsty. or – if anyone wishes to be grand about it – to write the poem that is exactly the fitting receptacle of the feeling or thought that you hoped to convey. in her presence, you were not faulty or badly designed, no, not at all. you were the fitting receptacle and instruments of your talents and beliefs and desires.”

ah, today is one of those days when i can’t believe my good luck to be in this moment, doing this thing.

+1/-1

one terrible downside about working: walking past the much music building.

one wonderful upside about working: elevated status of weekends. i appreciate fridays more. and saturdays are just god’s gift to the worker bee. and sundays are much more cherished and well spent now that i know mondays mean back to the routine. but because i had just spent three glorious days basking in the sun and/or engaging in similarly wonderful activities, mondays are more bearable. and tuesdays are really okay because i know wednesdays are just around the corner, and hey, by the time you make it to wednesday, tomorrow is thursday – a mini friday – so how can you not be happy? and thursday, as i mentioned earlier, is really a friday in thursday disguise, and hey who doesn’t love a friday?

and speaking of weekends, this past weekend was the best one yet.

it involved:

learning about arcade fire secret show. going up to danforth music hall to wait in line for arcade fire secret show. getting (barely) arcade fire secret show tickets. listening to arcade fire in anticipation of arcade fire secret show. going back to danforth music hall for arcade fire secret show. waiting in line to get into danforth music hall for arcade fire secret show. waiting patiently for arcade fire secret show. spotting friendly faces in danforth music hall all here for arcade fire secret show. kevin drew from BSS. the drummer boy from most serene republic. all at arcade fire secret show. getting right up to the stage as arcade fire secret show starts. beautiful, beautiful, mind-numbing, soul-crushing, music. thinking that i would like to live my life like an arcade fire song. with passion, with abandon, without a care for the world. with so much care for the world. learning that a dollar from ticket proceeds are going to partners for health and smiling secret smiles. walking out flowing in air from so much love. hugging strangers, dancing down the street, wishing well for the world after arcade fire secret show.

getting two smoothies each. house party off of queen street. what is performance art, discuss. vaingloriousness, but better dance parties. another house party off of queen street. secret garden spotting. video? what video star? old friends. peace in the middle east. silent pitter patter of mid summer rain. listening to records. bagels for brunch. street sales. bellwoods rumage. beautiful doe-leather (i know, terrible, but so beautiful) shoes. nadege revisited. saying insh’allah for the first time in a long time. torrential down pour. refuge from macarons. picking up a kegger. so bad ass. rolling it over. struggling it over. walking around with props. butchers for keggers. mulberry trees. more berry trees. stealing berries from trees. reveling in arcade fire love. dinner party at friend’s. talks on serious business. words of consequences. mussels. ice cream with strawberries and balsamic vinegar. jazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. peter beard. the neighbour encounter. whiskey on the rocks. birthday party! wes anderson fan. obscure forms of art and cinema. dance party to arcade fire adn edward sharpe. auntie’s and uncles brunch. ukulele tuning. scarf shopping. major street lovin’. boy who built bikes. stencil sketching. shall we sauder? mac and cheese. musical shoes. lemon tarts. excess fruit. no pool hopping. so sad. no ronnies. to slumber.

(photo by nan goldin)

beirut i love you

monday malaise comes in the form of beirut nostalgia.

everyone says i love you

clearing out my millions of tabs, found a folder titled “all love.” below is a select list of wondrous things i stumbled on:

a. street photography is like falling in love.

b. CBC wiretap’s never say i love you.

c. ingenious the dusseldorf butter in the corner.

d. enlightened mother of performance art marina abramovic’s rhythm 10.

e. enjoy baby portraits and hyper pretentious comments it triggers.

f. favella art.

g. herald phillip stark designing wind turbines.

h. eat up simon evans’ everything i have.

i. love career advice that tells me to charge at things with abandon.

j. embrace fantasizing about living in italy.

k. how can you not love nutcracker costumes for new york ballet?

l. heart macarons. laudree ones especially.

m. hifive rotating kitchen.

n. praise urs fischer.

o. big scale art projects. all flame.

p. where the heart is.

q. command terrible games on computer.

r. presidents having sex with artist justine lai.

s. young at art.

t. urban gardening.

u. enamoured by small scale studios run by strong souls.

v. mystery youtube videos.

w. art atlas.

x. ines rosales olive oil tarts reminds me of beirut. fate.

y.

z. the smell of trees on leaves as you walk along any of the many streets in the annex on a cool calm summer eve.

from fuku to zafa

ATTN: WORLD

if you get a chance, can you please please please please please please please pick up a copy of the brief wondrous life of oscar wao and devour it in one sitting?

gracias!

- m.

addendum: truly, it is one of the most phantasmagorical books i have read all year. i love it all the more for its nod to ernest hemingway (“the short happy life of francis macomber”) and oscar wilde (well, you get it). and junot diaz – the author – is shameless in his predilection for dorky sci-fi fiction, japanese video games, lord of the rings trilogies (all serious literature needs liberal doses of gollum references!). he uses cuss words swear words spanglish phrases english colloquial sayings, dominican republic dialects, and it is served up in heaps of joy and it is oh, so, delicious (annotation can be found here)

only one question remains for author diaz: were you a fat kid growing up? because, i mean, how else can you write about a fat kid with such poetic brilliance? were you? were you? were you?

annnnnnd if this doesn’t convince you, this one last factoid might: the literature in discussion contains references to jersey shore. for real (of course, it was written before jersey shore became the travesty it is today). but who cares?