dear clusterflock, serious edition
How do you move through your grudges? Is it a process of letting go? Giving in? If you focus on forgiveness, do you feel that you’ve metabolized your anger?
his logic is impeccable.
Things that happened during our date include, but are not limited to, the following:
You played with your hair a lot. A woman playing with her hair is a common sign of flirtation. You can even do a google search on it. When a woman plays with her hair, she is preening. I’ve never had a date where a woman played with her hair as much as you did. In addition, it didn’t look like you were playing with your hair out of nervousness.
We had lots of eye contact during our date. On a per-minute basis, I’ve never had as much eye contact during a date as I did with you.
You said, “It was nice to meet you.” at the end of our date. A woman could say this statement as a way to show that she isn’t interested in seeing a man again or she could mean what she said–that it was nice to meet you. The statement, by itself, is inconclusive.
We had a nice conversation over dinner. I don’t think I’m being delusional in saying this statement.
In my opinion, leading someone on (i.e., giving mixed signals) is impolite and immature. It’s bad to do that.
headline of the day
Nude yoga fueled Kim Kardashian-Kris Humphries breakup
from the comments
I’m a dick grabber. Ask anyone.
EAMES: The Architect and The Painter
Finally, a documentary on Charles and Ray Eames.
The husband-and-wife team of Charles and Ray Eames are widely regarded as America’s most important designers. Perhaps best remembered for their mid-century plywood and fiberglass furniture, the Eames Office also created a mind-bending variety of other products, from splints for wounded military during World War II, to photography, interiors, multi-media exhibits, graphics, games, films and toys. But their personal lives and influence on significant events in American life — from the development of modernism, to the rise of the computer age — has been less widely understood. Narrated by James Franco, Eames: The Architect and the Painter is the first film dedicated to these creative geniuses and their work.
Oh, boy!
(via stellar)
42 S. Deacon St. #5
There are at least fifty things about her you cannot stand. Maybe a thousand:
She is soft and smells nice. Talks on the phone all day. Makes your favorite meals without being asked. Throws your Maxim magazines on the floor when she’s angry with you. Is sad when an animal gets hurt. Loses your car keys. Asks your opinion and listens to your response as if it matters. There’s more.
30 for Thirty Days, the latest post…
I’m still following the prompts from someone I know, sort of.
from the comments
Our lead bird dog Tuffy would bring Miss Nell gifts of terrapins and turtles, try to drop them in her lap as she shooed him away. We always wondered why that? But now I’m remembering the people who walked by his pen after fishing the woods ponds and swamps. We’d stop them and examine their catches. They were big on turtle soup and often had a big one on a hook or rope. Did Tuffy “get” that? That the big terrapins he captured and ran with in his mouth back to the one person who resisted his love were considered great prizes by some? I mean, dogs, cats, owls, they just want to be friends.
A Few Remarks
I sat next to him for almost two years. Inches apart, in fact, but there was a wall of sorts between us. Blue tweed-looking stuff stretched over a metal frame and filled with a thin layer of sound deadening material. It was not enough to prevent my hearing his chronic wheezing and throat-clearing.
The first week was not too bad. I was kind enough to welcome him into our little dysfunctional family. Show him how to do things and avoid the obvious rookie mistakes. He was slow to pick up departmental procedures and obstinate about what he thought he knew.
At what point did I stop trying to help him? It was when he took credit for projects that were not his own, compounded by a reluctance to admit he never knew what the fuck he was talking about. He couldn’t support an opinion or back up an assertion based on his own experience–Googling an answer was his method of showing how smart he was.
Something I’m Working On…
I’ll say no more for the moment.
from the comments
Joel Bernstein (quoting):
I’m a fucking nice person. I can cook like a motherfucker, make some fucking straight-up fucking grub, fucking chicken fried steak, fucking collard greens, fucking mashed potatoes, all that fucking good-ass sausage gravy biscuits, fucking everything man, I cook like a motherfucker.
I want to find a skinny-ass little bitch, and make her fat, and then we could lose weight together, and we’ll bond.
tweet of the day
headline of the day
Los Altos Woman Wore Bubble Wrap Under Jumpsuit When She Attacked Husband
it’s complicated
From an article on literary, and other, deal-breakers in relationships, we get this insight into the complex male psyche:
Straight guys are often asked if they are “ass men” or “boob guys,” if they like skinny or curvy, if they prefer a big rack or a small rack, bush or no bush. And though it’s fun to claim allegiance to one camp or the other, I think the true answer is that we like attractive women who will sleep with us.
(via @tcarmody)
The Oracle
Dear Google,
How are you? I am fine. I have a couple of queries, so back the hell off with the auto-fill answers for right now, okay?
So, seriously, how do you know so much? If I could access useless information as quickly as you do, I would get totally laid. Lightning-quick responses to trivia questions are an absolute panty-dropper—everybody understands that women can’t resist a guy who can do that.
Meg Hourihan on the passing of her cat, Bodhi
The semester before I got Bodhi, I took the best class I’ve ever taken. We studied Buddhism, Deconstruction, Emily Dickenson, and Walt Whitman. I read every word of “Leaves of Grass” again and again, and in times of great sorrow I always come back to it:
They are alive and well somewhere;
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death;
And if ever there was, it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.All goes onward and outward–nothing collapses;
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
Miss Lucy
is becoming Mrs. Lucy today. On Thursday, I helped her get her hen on, in a swanky hotel bar.
I’m immensely honored to be attending her and Ross’s wedding, and the succeeding reception-crawl. I will bring a real camera to that.
Read more
Love Can Always Find You
We met today for a celebration, to mark the marriage of a mutual friend. She was just back from the beach. ”Marry me,” he said. ”And I accepted,” she told us. She wore a white halter top and a white wrap skirt, a two-piece bathing suit of the same shade underneath, no shoes. The groom had on casual attire, with flip flops. They went for dinner at a bayside restaurant, then back to the beach.
They had gone the long way around to find each other. She was born and raised in New York City, to Greek parents in the restaurant business. She had several careers, ending up in the news business in D.C. When I met her decades ago, she talked about Latin music, about salsa. The groom, born in Puerto Rico, is a longtime civil servant. He’s also a musician. He owns four guitars.
But I had to wonder about this hasty marriage to a man she’d been seeing for five months. Then, he came into the room. He was a stunner. She was glowing. They talked about moving by the end of the year, maybe to Spain. Her dream is to be on a plane, on New Year’s Eve, flying to Madrid, her new husband at her side.
The thing is, these aren’t babes. They are at or near the age when they can draw retirement. As in Social Security.
You would never know it. They’re sleek and fit, all that dancing. And one thing was so obvious it filled the room with sweet certainty: My long-time friend is with the love of her life. And the feeling is mutual.
notes for a potential screenplay
One thing that could be explored, other than the fractious nature of self, is the shifting patterns of human sexuality, fantasy, relationships, the dynamic of sexual interaction and need at a particular moment, and how contradictory that can appear or be from one experience to the next. Also the reverberation of that played out in memory and self-consciousness.
tweet of the day
Why I Garden
We’re still dealing with aftershocks and looking forward to this weekend’s hurricane. So I’m thinking about cats. Not really. More like green things. I thought maybe even non-gardeners might appreciate this little meditation on the growing game.
‘Neither account of the acrimonious relationship could be independently confirmed’
Dany Larivière, the mayor of Saint-Théodore-d’Acton and the owner of an excavation company, says he placed the giant rock in his ex-wife’s driveway to try to get her to stop harassing him.
from the comments
And I hate to admit this, being a southernist. But Midwesterners are sexy beasts. They are not flamboyant about it. But they’ve found a simple solution to all that endless cold weather. My mother-in-law and her friends did not mourn endlessly when their spouses passed away. A respectful time would pass and they were going out again, socializing, traveling with a new sweetheart. Life goes on. I admired it.
This is just my notion, anyway.
headline of the day
Giant carrot proposes to woman in China
The London Riots
Word.
Via Alan Phelan, who wrote: 21.40 Matthew Moore, the Telegraph’s assistant news editor, filmed this extraordinary speech by a fearless West Indian woman in Hackney, East London. Contains obscene language.
