Monthly Archives: June 2013

Hasta luego, Hart Beat

Hi Hart Beat. Well, the day has finally come, my dad and I are shipping off to Spain today! It’s been so nice in Brooklyn lately that I’m sad I’ll be away for two weeks. Time is a tricky thing though and today’s the day to ship off. The good news is that tonight I fly to my favorite city in the world and for the next weeks I get to be in Spain, sitting on the beach and biking with my dad. I can’t believe that when I wake up tomorrow morning I’m going to be in Madrid. This is unreal.

So Hart Beat, just in case I don’t do any blog writing while my dad and I bike across Spain, I wanted to say a little adios for now. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in two weeks with so many pictures to share with you. Have a great July, Hart Beat, and think of me in Spain, thinking about you all while I’m there.

Hasta luego, Hart Beat

Hi Hart Beat. Well, the day has finally come, my dad and I are shipping off to Spain today! It’s been so nice in Brooklyn lately that I’m sad I’ll be away for two weeks. Time is a tricky thing though and today’s the day to ship off. The good news is that tonight I fly to my favorite city in the world and for the next weeks I get to be in Spain, sitting on the beach and biking with my dad. I can’t believe that when I wake up tomorrow morning I’m going to be in Madrid. This is unreal.

So Hart Beat, just in case I don’t do any blog writing while my dad and I bike across Spain, I wanted to say a little adios for now. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in two weeks with so many pictures to share with you. Have a great July, Hart Beat, and think of me in Spain, thinking about you all while I’m there.

A history of everything, including you

“A History of Everything, Including You” is written by Jenny Hollowell. This beautiful story can be found in the book New Sudden Fiction: Short Stories From America and Beyond. You can also listen to the author, Jenny Hollowell, read the story on this episode of Radiolab.

A History of Everything, Including You
by Jenny Hollowell

First there was god, or gods, or nothing. Then synthesis, space, the expansion, explosions, implosions, particles, objects, combustion, and fusion. Out of the chaos came order, stars were born and shown and died. Planets rolled across their galaxies on invisible ellipses and the elements combined and became.
Life evolved or was created. Cells trembled, and divided, and gasped and found dry land. Soon they grew legs, and fins, and hands, and antenna, and mouths, and ears, and wings, and eyes. Eyes that opened wide to take all of it in, the creeping, growing, soaring, swimming, crawling, stampeding universe.

Eyes opened and closed and opened again, we called it blinking. Above us shown a star that we called the sun. And we called the ground the earth. So we named everything including ourselves. We were man and woman and when we got lonely we figured out a way to make more of us. We called it sex, and most people enjoyed it. We fell in love. We talked about god and banged stones together, made sparks and called them fire, we got warmer and the food got better.

We got married, we had some children, they cried, and crawled, and grew. One dissected flowers, sometimes eating the petals. Another liked to chase squirrels. We fought wars over money, and honor, and women. We starved ourselves, we hired prostitutes, we purified our water. We compromised, decorated, and became esoteric. One of us stopped breathing and turned blue. Then others. First we covered them with leaves and then we buried them in the ground. We remembered them. We forgot them. We aged.

Our buildings kept getting taller. We hired lawyers and formed councils and left paper trails, we negotiated, we admitted, we got sick, and searched for cures. We invented lipstick, vaccines, pilates, solar panels, interventions, table manners, firearms, window treatments, therapy, birth control, tailgating, status symbols, palimony, sportsmanship, focus groups, zoloft, sunscreen, landscaping, cessnas, fortune cookies, chemotherapy, convenience foods, and computers. We angered militants, and our mothers.


You were born. You learned to walk, and went to school, and played sports, and lost your virginity, and got into a decent college, and majored in psychology, and went to rock shows, and became political, and got drunk, and changed your major to marketing, and wore turtleneck sweaters, and read novels, and volunteered, and went to movies, and developed a taste for blue cheese dressing.


I met you through friends, and didn’t like you at first. The feeling was mutual, but we got used to each other. We had sex for the first time behind an art gallery, standing up and slightly drunk. You held my face in your hands and said that I was beautiful. And you were too. Tall with a streetlight behind you. We went back to your place and listened to the White Album. We ordered in. We fought and made up and got good jobs and got married and bought an apartment and worked out and ate more and talked less. I got depressed. You ignored me. I was sick of you. You drank too much and got careless with money. I slept with my boss. We went into counseling and got a dog. I bought a book of sex positions and we tried the least degrading one, the wheelbarrow. You took flight lessons and subscribed to Rolling Stone. I learned Spanish and started gardening.


We had some children who more or less disappointed us but it might have been our fault. You were too indulgent and I was too critical. We loved them anyway. One of them died before we did, stabbed on the subway. We grieved. We moved. We adopted a cat. The world seemed uncertain, we lived beyond our means. I got judgmental and belligerent, you got confused and easily tired. You ignored me, I was sick of you. We forgave. We remembered. We made cocktails. We got tender. There was that time on the porch when you said, can you believe it?


This was near the end and your hands were trembling. I think you were talking about everything, including us. Did you want me to say it? So it would not be lost? It was too much for me to think about. I could not go back to the beginning. I said, not really. And we watched the sun go down. A dog kept barking in the distance, and you were tired but you smiled and you said, hear that? It’s rough, rough. And we laughed. You were like that.

Now, your question is my project and our house is full of clues. I’m reading old letters and turning over rocks. I burry my face in your sweaters. I study a photograph taken at the beach, the sun in our eyes, and the water behind us. It’s a victory to remember the forgotten picnic basket and your striped beach blanket. It’s a victory to remember how the jellyfish stung you and you ran screaming from the water. It’s a victory to remember treating the wound with meat tenderizer, and you saying, I made it better. I will tell you this, standing on our hill this morning I looked at the land we chose for ourselves, I saw a few green patches, and our sweet little shed, that same dog was barking, a storm was moving in. I did not think of heaven, but I saw that the clouds were beautiful and I watched them cover the sun.

Taken in Calpe, Spain.

A history of everything, including you

“A History of Everything, Including You” is written by Jenny Hollowell. This beautiful story can be found in the book New Sudden Fiction: Short Stories From America and Beyond. You can also listen to the author, Jenny Hollowell, read the story on this episode of Radiolab.
 
A History of Everything, Including You
by Jenny Hollowell

First, there was god, or gods, or nothing. Then synthesis, space, the expansion, explosions, implosions, particles, objects, combustion, and fusion. Out of the chaos came order, stars were born and shown and died. Planets rolled across their galaxies on invisible ellipses and the elements combined and became.
Life evolved or was created. Cells trembled, and divided, and gasped and found dry land. Soon they grew legs, and fins, and hands, and antenna, and mouths, and ears, and wings, and eyes. Eyes that opened wide to take all of it in, the creeping, growing, soaring, swimming, crawling, stampeding universe.
 
Eyes opened and closed and opened again, we called it blinking. Above us shown a star that we called the sun. And we called the ground the earth. So we named everything including ourselves. We were man and woman and when we got lonely we figured out a way to make more of us. We called it sex, and most people enjoyed it. We fell in love. We talked about god and banged stones together, made sparks and called them fire, we got warmer and the food got better.
 
We got married, we had some children, they cried, and crawled, and grew. One dissected flowers, sometimes eating the petals. Another liked to chase squirrels. We fought wars over money, and honor, and women. We starved ourselves, we hired prostitutes, we purified our water. We compromised, decorated, and became esoteric. One of us stopped breathing and turned blue. Then others. First, we covered them with leaves and then we buried them in the ground. We remembered them. We forgot them. We aged.
Our buildings kept getting taller. We hired lawyers and formed councils and left paper trails, we negotiated, we admitted, we got sick, and searched for cures. We invented lipstick, vaccines, pilates, solar panels, interventions, table manners, firearms, window treatments, therapy, birth control, tailgating, status symbols, palimony, sportsmanship, focus groups, Zoloft, sunscreen, landscaping, cessnas, fortune cookies, chemotherapy, convenience foods, and computers. We angered militants and our mothers.
You were born. You learned to walk, and went to school, and played sports, and lost your virginity, and got into a decent college, and majored in psychology, and went to rock shows, and became political, and got drunk, and changed your major to marketing, and wore turtleneck sweaters, and read novels, and volunteered, and went to movies, and developed a taste for blue cheese dressing.
I met you through friends and didn’t like you at first. The feeling was mutual, but we got used to each other. We had sex for the first time behind an art gallery, standing up and slightly drunk. You held my face in your hands and said that I was beautiful. And you were too. Tall with a streetlight behind you. We went back to your place and listened to the White Album. We ordered in. We fought and made up and got good jobs and got married and bought an apartment and worked out and ate more and talked less. I got depressed. You ignored me. I was sick of you. You drank too much and got careless with money. I slept with my boss. We went into counseling and got a dog. I bought a book of sex positions and we tried the least degrading one, the wheelbarrow. You took flight lessons and subscribed to Rolling Stone. I learned Spanish and started gardening.
 
We had some children who more or less disappointed us but it might have been our fault. You were too indulgent and I was too critical. We loved them anyway. One of them died before we did, stabbed on the subway. We grieved. We moved. We adopted a cat. The world seemed uncertain, we lived beyond our means. I got judgmental and belligerent, you got confused and easily tired. You ignored me, I was sick of you. We forgave. We remembered. We made cocktails. We got tender. There was that time on the porch when you said, can you believe it?
 
This was near the end and your hands were trembling. I think you were talking about everything, including us. Did you want me to say it? So it would not be lost? It was too much for me to think about. I could not go back to the beginning. I said, not really. And we watched the sun go down. A dog kept barking in the distance, and you were tired but you smiled and you said, hear that? It’s rough, rough. And we laughed. You were like that.
 
Now, your question is my project and our house is full of clues. I’m reading old letters and turning over rocks. I bury my face in your sweaters. I study a photograph taken at the beach, the sun in our eyes, and the water behind us. It’s a victory to remember the forgotten picnic basket and your striped beach blanket. It’s a victory to remember how the jellyfish stung you and you ran screaming from the water. It’s a victory to remember treating the wound with meat tenderizer, and you saying, I made it better. I will tell you this, standing on our hill this morning I looked at the land we chose for ourselves, I saw a few green patches, and our sweet little shed, that same dog was barking, a storm was moving in. I did not think of heaven, but I saw that the clouds were beautiful and I watched them cover the sun.
 
Taken in Calpe, Spain.

New hair cut

Hi there, Hart Beat. Well, here come the last few posts until I’m off to España and posts will become sparse. One of the things, other than finding a new wardrobe, that I’m excited for during this trip is a new hair cut.

I haven’t had a proper hair cut in over a year and I’m looking pretty mangy dog lately. My hair is so long now that I have to tuck it under my shirt collar to keep it from getting all in my face. What I’m thinking of doing is just going to a random place in Northern Spain to get it cut. I did this last year on the Mediterranean coast in France and loved it. Now thinking about it though, it might be easier to do when I speak the language. What do you think, Hart Beat? What look are you going for now?

New hair cut

Hi there, Hart Beat. Well, here come the last few posts until I’m off to España and posts will become sparse. One of the things, other than finding a new wardrobe, that I’m excited for during this trip is a new hair cut.

I haven’t had a proper hair cut in over a year and I’m looking pretty mangy dog lately. My hair is so long now that I have to tuck it under my shirt collar to keep it from getting all in my face. What I’m thinking of doing is just going to a random place in Northern Spain to get it cut. I did this last year on the Mediterranean coast in France and loved it. Now thinking about it though, it might be easier to do when I speak the language. What do you think, Hart Beat? What look are you going for now?

Packing and planning

Hey Hart Beat. So… I leave for Spain in four days (eek!) and I’m already in trouble. Why you ask? I’m about to do some dangerous shopping while in the mother land. Since my Dad and I are biking the first halfish of my trip, I am bringing a very, very limited about of clothes. I can literally count the items on two hands. And just in case you Hart Beat, ever bike through Spain, here is an excellent packing list: 1. bike/helmet 2. biking shorts 3. biking shirt 4. biking shoes 5. bathing suite (what up Spanish beaches) 6. dress 7. sandals 8. camera (über important, eh?) 9. journal (hi marina) 10. yoga pants

Yup, that’s it. No joke, my bag is the size of a scuba oxygen tank (the best comparison I could think of). 
I know what you’re wondering Hart Beat. What does any of this have to do with my situation? Here’s your answer, I HAVE to go shopping when I finish the ride in San Sebastian/Barcelona (still don’t know yet, whateves.) That is the best order I’ve ever heard. And since I’m so excited about shopping in my favorite country, I have been doing a little research before I go to see what kind of things I should be looking for. Come join me, Hart Beat, in this fantasy shopping spree. 
Naguisa shoes.
Since I’ve resisted buying these and these, I’m going to reward myself with new espadrilles from Spain. What? I work in fashion?
An Olivia Burton watch.
ba&sh tops. 
Faliero Sarti scarfs. 

Packing and planning

Hey Hart Beat. So… I leave for Spain in four days (eek!) and I’m already in trouble. Why you ask? I’m about to do some dangerous shopping while in the mother land. Since my Dad and I are biking the first halfish of my trip, I am bringing a very, very limited about of clothes. I can literally count the items on two hands. And just in case you Hart Beat, ever bike through Spain, here is an excellent packing list: 1. bike/helmet 2. biking shorts 3. biking shirt 4. biking shoes 5. bathing suite (what up Spanish beaches) 6. dress 7. sandals 8. camera (über important, eh?) 9. journal (hi marina) 10. yoga pants

Yup, that’s it. No joke, my bag is the size of a scuba oxygen tank (the best comparison I could think of). 
I know what you’re wondering Hart Beat. What does any of this have to do with my situation? Here’s your answer, I HAVE to go shopping when I finish the ride in San Sebastian/Barcelona (still don’t know yet, whateves.) That is the best order I’ve ever heard. And since I’m so excited about shopping in my favorite country, I have been doing a little research before I go to see what kind of things I should be looking for. Come join me, Hart Beat, in this fantasy shopping spree. 
Naguisa shoes.
Since I’ve resisted buying these and these, I’m going to reward myself with new espadrilles from Spain. What? I work in fashion?
An Olivia Burton watch.
ba&sh tops. 
Faliero Sarti scarfs. 

You will, you will

Hi. How’s your night going, Hart Beat? I heard this song this spring and I’ve been listening to it on the L train lately. Have you heard it? I’ve been playing it on my guitar recently too. Sometimes I think it’s a really depressing downer of a song, but then other times it sounds so hopeful. I guess that’s the way it goes, Hart Beat.

“You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.” by Bright Eyes

You will, you will

Hi. How’s your night going, Hart Beat? I heard this song this spring and I’ve been listening to it on the L train lately. Have you heard it? I’ve been playing it on my guitar recently too. Sometimes I think it’s a really depressing downer of a song, but then other times it sounds so hopeful. I guess that’s the way it goes, Hart Beat.

“You Will. You? Will. You? Will. You? Will.” by Bright Eyes