Quadruple Chocolate Tuxedo Cookies

Easter break is slowly winding to an end, and we have gone on a baking extravaganza. What usually happens in the Sewall household is that we'll just sit around and eat and then go shopping to buy stuff with which to bake and then we bake and then we eat. It's a vicious cycle. We made these amazing strawberry cakes (woe on whoever it was - Jacob maybe? - that dissed Jenna's cooking. She was furiously determined to prove her skills in the oven) and raspberry cheesecakes (actually mainly for our friend Clayben who had emergency brain surgery the other week. He's back in Straw Plains with the parentals now, but we now fondly call the back of his head a zipper), cupcakes and white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and now we have these quadruple chocolate tuxedo cookies that we're going to dip in white chocolate and they will be divine (yeah, those were just purely for us).
K-Weezie and Lil Debbie were dougie-ing it out last night, which is the best thing since toaster strudels, even better than seeing them breaking it down on the wii to Katy Perry's Firework. Megan came in the other night and insisted on waxing off her fiance's chest hair, and so he was laying on the kitchen floor in agony as she gleefully ripped out chunks of his manly chest follicles and bits of skin. The next morning he looked like a plucked chicken and he was all red and welted-looking.
Um, what else did we do. Oh yeah, we went shopping the other day in Turkey Creek and limited ourselves to a stop at Vickie's and Ross.
Kurt Vonnegut and I have been bonding over Galapagos, and Eric came over yesterday and we watched Dinner for Schmucks. Not a bad break but sadly I'm ready to get back to school and get this semester out of the way. Also, I feel like a beached whale and I need to detox from all this food overload for the next 48 hours. Summer's coming soon and I want to see my parents so bad. All I want is a gooey, sticky, juicy mango. That's the second thing I want to do. I will eat the mango and rub it all over my face.

Caliah

Happy first birthday pretty girl! :)

"The night is a space of white marble"

In the silence of holy darkness I'm eating a tomato
Philip Lamantia

Thunderstorms

It's been all thundery and stuff today but it's all bark and no bite. I can't wait til the rainy season of the Gambia when the entire sky will turn tar black in mid-day and it will pound the tin roofs and make puddles on the warm concrete floors and the children would come out in their panties to play outside and taste the rain.

Happy Birthday!

Christine Steffen is a winner.

My Woo Girls and I

Highlight of the day: My WOO girls Danielle and Miriam and I finally succeeded in having our long awaited much anticipated reunion ever since our last shenannigans at the Litzell/Miles wedding (an afterparty in downtown Sarasota that involved Chili's happy hour, the Cupid shuffle on a rooftop garage, the new year's pineapple drop, towed cars, and generally irate car owners). I have missed people who make me mixed CDs that can have both Katy Perry and Passion Pit gracing the same playlist. We talked about mouth-frothing crazy-eyeballed demon children who would hit the other kids because he sincerely believed it would turn them into flowers and about Boy Meets World and Minkus and weird people at Walmart and Criminal Minds and Spencer Reid and the Biebs. We fended off flirtatious waiters and indecisively sat around in the car with the Civil Wars. It was fantastic. Now that they've gone back to their grown-up lives where they do their grown-up things, I have only Seth Cohen to console me. Next date schedule: April 16th. WOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Natives of Nowhere

Paul Grant says that MKs are children of the world but natives of nowhere. Our rootlessness makes us fidgety, and so we wander listlessly through life like a wayfarer on an odyssey not of our choosing.

Tuesdays and Thursdays with Dr. Lee

I'm in this great Major American Authors class right now where we've just finished talking about the American expatriate writers like Hemingway and Stein (oh God, Stein...) and their romantic Parisian moveable feast days drinking wine and sitting in cafes and smoking and sharing their general literary brilliance with one another. Now we're getting into the work of the beat writers, and we get to stick our fingers into the brains of writers like Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. It's awesome.

"There is this distance between me and what I see" by Philip Lamantia
There is this distance between me and what I see
everywhere immanence of the presence of God
no more ekstasis
a cool head
watch watch watch
I'm here
He's over there . . . It's an Ocean . . .
sometimes I can't think of it, I fail, fall
This IS this look of love
there IS the tower of David
there IS the throne of Wisdom
there IS this silent look of love
Constant flight in air of the Holy Ghost
I long for the luminous darkness of God
I long for the superessential light of this darkness
another darkness I long for the end of longing
I long for the
it is Nameless what I long for
a spoken word caught in its own meat saying nothing
This nothing ravishes beyond ravishing
There IS this look of love Throne Silent look of love