Fence Sittin'

A place for a deliberate mind to perch before deciding which way to fly.

“Let me be, was all I wanted. Be what I am, no matter how I am.”

—   Henry Miller, Stand Still Like the Hummingbird (via libraryland)

(Source: sirmitchell)


Calling Your Girlfriend: A Dialogue
By Kristen Roupenian   

You: Hello?

Your Girlfriend: Hello?

Y: Hey, can you hear me?

YG: Hello? Is that you? I can barely hear you. Hold on one sec.

Y: Hello?

YG: Sorry, I’m on the freeway, reception keeps cutting in and out. What’s up?

Y: Hey. Um, what’s going on?

YG: Not much, I’m just driving home. Where are you? What’s that noise in the background?

Y: What noise?

YG: That kind of, like, thumping noise. It’s really loud. Are you in a club?

Y: Yeah, hold on, let me just step outside.


Y: Is that better?

YG: Yeah. So what’s up?

Y: I was just calling because, um, I think it’s time we had the talk.

YG: But we just talked like an hour ago.

Y: No, I mean, like, “The Talk.” It’s time we had the talk.

YG: What talk?

Y: “The Talk.”

YG: Huh?

Y: You know, the talk where I tell you that I’m cheating on you.


YG: Wait, what?

Y: Yeah. So, the first thing I want to say is — and please listen to me very carefully here: this is not your fault.

YG: What’s not my fault?

Y: This.

YG: What?

Y: This. You know. The cheating.

YG: I don’t understand. Why would it be my fault?

Y: It’s not. You see, I have my reasons. Well, one reason , mainly. That reason is that I’ve found someone new, and I want to sleep with her. Well, I mean, I’ve already slept with her. I just want to keep sleeping with her, without the inconvenience of having you around. But it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, and I want you to know that.

YG: Dude, whatever’s going on now — and frankly, I’m not entire sure what it is — I’m pretty fucking sure it’s your fault.

Y: Please don’t get upset.

YG: Don’t get upset? You called me in the middle of my commute to let me know that you’re cheating on me, and you want me to not get upset? What did you think would happen?

Y: You know, you’re always doing this! It’s like you second-guess everything I  say and do! Listen, it’s not that hard to understand: I’ve met somebody new, and I’m going to break up with you and date her. I never meant to hurt you, I just cheated on you and now I’m breaking up with you. I know this doesn’t make a whole lot of sense right now, but I want you to know that I’m still your friend.

YG: Um, no you’re not. You’re not my friend. You’re an asshole, and I think you might be mentally ill.

Y: I am not an asshole. I’m your friend.

YG: No, you’re not.

Y: Yes I am.

YG: Nope. Not my friend.

Y: I am!

YG: No.

Y: See, you’re doing it again! You’re second-guessing me!

YG: Okay, fine. This has been great. Thanks for calling me, buddy.

Y: I feel like you’re being sarcastic right now. Your hostility is really unnecessary.

YG: Is it?

Y: I’ve been trying to take the high road here. I wanted to let you down easy, but you know what? You deserve the whole truth. I wasn’t going to tell you this –in fact, I promised I wasn’t going to tell you this — but actually, this whole thing is kind of your fault.

YG: You have got to be kidding me.

Y: This new girl, she gives me something that I never even knew I missed, but which I now realize was always lacking in our relationship. I’m not sure what it is, exactly — maybe the warm feeling of unconditional acceptance? The knowledge that no matter what I do, she’ll always be there for me, without judgment? It’s something like that. Something you could never give me in a million years.

YG: Awesome. That’s perfect. Just perfect. I hope you two are happy together. Thank you so much for calling. Go and live happily ever after forever. Goodb –

Y: – Also, it’s really different when we kiss. I mean, when she and I kiss. It’s different from the way that you and I used to kiss each other. I don’t want to say it’s better … it’s just different. Okay, actually, she does kiss better. There. I said it. She is a BETTER KISSER THAN YOU.

YG: I don’t understand. Why isn’t this conversation over by now? Why are we still talking?

Y: Maybe she uses her tongue more? I think that’s it. Also there’s a kind of tingly weirdness at the corner of my lips — it was disturbing at first, but now I sort of like it. It feels like when you’ve got a cold sore coming on, but more diffuse and kind of — I don’t know, spiritual almost. Like I’m wearing a new kind of chapstick with healing lotion in it, but more intense than that. Anyway, it’s different. I — hold on one sec.  Hey, no, cut it out. What are you doing? Give me that. Hey –

Robyn: Hallo?

YG: Hello? Who is this?

R: Hallo? Can you hear me? HALLO?

YG: Who is this? Why is your voice so high-pitched? Is this an elf?

R: Hallo, friend. I just want to say — can you hear me? I know it is hard, but I want to say, the only way your heart will mend is when you learn to love again. Do you understand? You must love again! Find love! It is the only way!

YG: Is this who I think it is? Are you seriously fucking talking to me right now?

R: The only way your heart will mend is when you learn to love again!

YG: You just stole my boyfriend, and now you’re lecturing me about finding love?

R: You must learn to love again!

YG: You know what? This is bullshit. I’m going to come find you two right now, and when I do, I dare you to say that to my face.

R: Find love!

YG: I swear to God, somebody’s about to get stabbed in the eye with one of their own quirky earrings.

R: It’s the only way!

YG: I’m hanging up now. Tell your new boyfriend I’m going to dump all his shit out my window. He can come gather it up off my lawn tomorrow.

R: I hope we can all be friends! I truly do wish you the best. Maybe someday when your heart has mended, we can all grab some dinner.

(**We listened to this song numerous times on our road trip last weekend and each time, C was incredulous at how insanely terrible its advice really is. I was too busy dancing poorly to mind.)

There might be a case to be made that the deep, slow creativity traditionally associated with psychic trauma and mood disorders is a form of creativity with little utility in a world of hyper-consumerism and short attention spans. Maybe the need for that kind of thinking and behaviour is less now, and we can do without it. Just as religion is dying, might not art and creativity be fading?

In my darker moments, this possibility gives me real pause. But in my better moments I know it is wrong, and we are indeed losing something. We should not celebrate pain, nor confuse suffering with virtue, but we must understand that sadness and pain are part of the spectrum of human existence, and that we need them to understand all that is good in ourselves.


Don’t Be A Dick by Luke Beard


Don’t Be A Dick by Luke Beard


Soup du jour


Soup du jour


Moon River - Josh Ritter

You might have noticed by the sheer number of times I’ve posted (different versions) of “Moon River” that it’s basically one of my favorite songs of all time. But just in case you hadn’t caught on to that yet, let me go ahead and state it clearly right now. This song is one of the best, and always will be. Anybody that ever sings it - from Audrey Hepburn to The Innocence Mission to Lisa Hannigan to Josh Ritter to my kids (who I sang it to when they were babies and who know sing it back to me) - makes me incredibly happy.

“I am afraid of getting older … I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…. I want, I want to think, to be omniscient…. I think I would like to call myself ‘The girl who wanted to be God.’”

—   Sylvia Plath
written in 1949 at age 17  (via hateshiploveship)

(Source: learningfromthehands, via libraryland)