Sweet joy, sweet joy, I hum against the kitten cry of my newborn daughter, three days old, who directs her distress at my dry nipple. Home today from the hospital and no milk yet in my breasts. Since the doctors cut her out of me, she has been living on fat reserves and a few drops of the sticky, yellow colostrum I squeeze from my body into her rooting mouth. Baby wolf trying to howl, no sound coming out. Baby polar bear burrowing into white, substance-less snow.
Half of all young will starve by spring, the narrator intones.

Read more of Amy Monticello’s dispatch from Eau Claire, Wisconsin and the harsh wilderness of new motherhood. “Sometimes parents don’t have the luxury of patience.”
 | 4 notes

Sweet joy, sweet joy, I hum against the kitten cry of my newborn daughter, three days old, who directs her distress at my dry nipple. Home today from the hospital and no milk yet in my breasts. Since the doctors cut her out of me, she has been living on fat reserves and a few drops of the sticky, yellow colostrum I squeeze from my body into her rooting mouth. Baby wolf trying to howl, no sound coming out. Baby polar bear burrowing into white, substance-less snow.

Half of all young will starve by spring, the narrator intones.

Read more of Amy Monticello’s dispatch from Eau Claire, Wisconsin and the harsh wilderness of new motherhood. “Sometimes parents don’t have the luxury of patience.”

   

Tags: #William Blake #Polar Vortex #Wisconsin #Eau Claire #motherhood #dispatches #Amy Monticello #breastfeeding


 

…What can make Girls so frustrating to watch is the perpetually unrealized possibility of adult life. Here it is in a hotel lobby: in a room of young and middle-aged strangers, just highbrow white noise to the pedestrians who pass by on their way elsewhere – but also possibly more. These grand hotels, and ones like them the world over, are meant to be cities-within-cities, and while the Gulf is setting the standard for new displays of wealth, this is still a microcosm of public spaces, like the original grand hotels of past centuries, but also like a New York park or avenue. Perhaps on these most exclusive of streets, as Hannah thinks, beautiful interiors do reflect the perfect figures of their inhabitants, as they did at the Gramercy for one transcendent night. But I prefer to imagine these hotel lives as urban adults really are, even in Girls – incomplete, which requires the quiet acknowledgement that you are too.

Sahiba Gill examines Lena Dunham’s Hannah Horvath alongside Kay Thompson’s classic Eloise—two characters who blur the boundaries between childhood and adulthood against a backdrop of New York decadence.
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…What can make Girls so frustrating to watch is the perpetually unrealized possibility of adult life. Here it is in a hotel lobby: in a room of young and middle-aged strangers, just highbrow white noise to the pedestrians who pass by on their way elsewhere – but also possibly more. These grand hotels, and ones like them the world over, are meant to be cities-within-cities, and while the Gulf is setting the standard for new displays of wealth, this is still a microcosm of public spaces, like the original grand hotels of past centuries, but also like a New York park or avenue. Perhaps on these most exclusive of streets, as Hannah thinks, beautiful interiors do reflect the perfect figures of their inhabitants, as they did at the Gramercy for one transcendent night. But I prefer to imagine these hotel lives as urban adults really are, even in Girls – incomplete, which requires the quiet acknowledgement that you are too.

Sahiba Gill examines Lena Dunham’s Hannah Horvath alongside Kay Thompson’s classic Eloise—two characters who blur the boundaries between childhood and adulthood against a backdrop of New York decadence.

   

Tags: #Girls #LEna Dunham #Hannah Horvath #Eloise #Kay Thompson #Sahiba Gill #in house


 

… “The Broken Road marries picaresque adventure, chronicle, and reflection. It has no subsidiary plot line or motivation other than a young man’s search for himself; no roots tour, PhD thesis, newspaper assignment, or artifact-collecting project. Brilliant, of good family, eccentrically raised, Leigh Fermor arrived at majority with no professional or academic prospects. He felt he was “floating towards disintegration in a tangle of submerged and ill-marked reefs.” The Great Trudge, as he called it, made him a man and a writer. He discovered his knack for drawing people out and for stringing history, language, and observation into narrative, and his timing was perfect. A few years later, Europe exploded, and this venture would have been impossible.” …

Julia Lichtblau reviews Patrick Leigh Fermor’s posthumous travel narrative concluding his two-year walk through Europe to Constantinople, a book “both memoir and memorial.”
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… “The Broken Road marries picaresque adventure, chronicle, and reflection. It has no subsidiary plot line or motivation other than a young man’s search for himself; no roots tour, PhD thesis, newspaper assignment, or artifact-collecting project. Brilliant, of good family, eccentrically raised, Leigh Fermor arrived at majority with no professional or academic prospects. He felt he was “floating towards disintegration in a tangle of submerged and ill-marked reefs.” The Great Trudge, as he called it, made him a man and a writer. He discovered his knack for drawing people out and for stringing history, language, and observation into narrative, and his timing was perfect. A few years later, Europe exploded, and this venture would have been impossible.” …

Julia Lichtblau reviews Patrick Leigh Fermor’s posthumous travel narrative concluding his two-year walk through Europe to Constantinople, a book “both memoir and memorial.”

   

Tags: #Constantinople #travel writing #Patrick Leigh Fermor #The Broken Road #Turkey #Istanbul #World War II #reviews #julia lichtblau


 

We stood among the wreckage of the barangay captain’s house and his furniture shop and his crumbled internet café, where three months ago you could put a ten peso coin in and for a few minutes connect from this little island to the world out there, beyond Cancobato Bay, the San Juanico Strait and Tacloban. CPU shells lay stacked up like carcasses against one of the few walls still standing, ghosts in the machines, severed cables and keyboard drawers jutting out like compound fractures. The barangay captain has not had time to rebuild. He has a job to do; he is the barangay captain. …

Read more of Keane Shum’s dispatch from the Philippines—on destruction, the surreal, and “Tindog Tacloban.”
 | 1 note

We stood among the wreckage of the barangay captain’s house and his furniture shop and his crumbled internet café, where three months ago you could put a ten peso coin in and for a few minutes connect from this little island to the world out there, beyond Cancobato Bay, the San Juanico Strait and Tacloban. CPU shells lay stacked up like carcasses against one of the few walls still standing, ghosts in the machines, severed cables and keyboard drawers jutting out like compound fractures. The barangay captain has not had time to rebuild. He has a job to do; he is the barangay captain. …

Read more of Keane Shum’s dispatch from the Philippines—on destruction, the surreal, and “Tindog Tacloban.”

   

Tags: #The Philippines #Tacloban #tindogtacloban #Tindog Tacloban #Salvacion #Keane Shum #dispatches