28 February, 2019

'Romance Sonambulo' by Federico Garcia Lorca

Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea
and the horse on the mountain.
With the shade around her waist
she dreams on her balcony,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
Green, how I want you green.
Under the gypsy moon,
all things are watching her
and she cannot see them.

Green, how I want you green.
Big hoarfrost stars
come with the fish of shadow
that opens the road of dawn.
The fig tree rubs its wind
with the sandpaper of its branches,
and the forest, cunning cat,
bristles its brittle fibers.
But who will come? And from where?
She is still on her balcony
green flesh, her hair green,
dreaming in the bitter sea.

–My friend, I want to trade
my horse for her house,
my saddle for her mirror,
my knife for her blanket.
My friend, I come bleeding
from the gates of Cabra.
–If it were possible, my boy,
I’d help you fix that trade.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
–My friend, I want to die
decently in my bed.
Of iron, if that’s possible,
with blankets of fine chambray.
Don’t you see the wound I have
from my chest up to my throat?
–Your white shirt has grown
thirsty dark brown roses.
Your blood oozes and flees
around the corners of your sash.
But now I am not I,
nor is my house now my house.
–Let me climb up, at least,
up to the high balconies;
Let me climb up! Let me,
up to the green balconies.
Railings of the moon
through which the water rumbles.

Now the two friends climb up,
up to the high balconies.
Leaving a trail of blood.
Leaving a trail of teardrops.
Tin bell vines
were trembling on the roofs.
A thousand crystal tambourines
struck at the dawn light.

Green, how I want you green,
green wind, green branches.
The two friends climbed up.
The stiff wind left
in their mouths, a strange taste
of bile, of mint, and of basil
My friend, where is she–tell me–
where is your bitter girl?
How many times she waited for you!
How many times would she wait for you,
cool face, black hair,
on this green balcony!
Over the mouth of the cistern
the gypsy girl was swinging,
green flesh, her hair green,
with eyes of cold silver.
An icicle of moon
holds her up above the water.
The night became intimate
like a little plaza.
Drunken “Guardias Civiles"
were pounding on the door.
Green, how I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
The ship out on the sea.
And the horse on the mountain.

13 February, 2019

Things I have intentionally given up: a List

- Facebook

- expectations

- super late nights

- Gluten

- Most grains

- Letting myself go down that deep, dark spiral…

- Negative self-talk

- Weighing myself. Basically at all.

- Pouring energy into thoughts, relationships, pursuits, and truly anything unworthy of my precious energy and hours on earth in this one glorious life.

- Reading books I “should” (I stick to reading the books I like)

- Worrying

- Grudge-holding

- “Aspirational” clothing

- Comparing myself to others

(and I'm happier for all of it, so so so much happier)

02 February, 2019

Shakespearean Cocktails: A List

The Taming of the Shew - The Shrewdriver
A Midsummer Night's Dream - Bottom’s Up, Puck’s Fizz
Twelfth Night - What you Will
Merchant of Venice - Quali-Tea of Mercy
Much Ado About Nothing - The Much a Woo Woo

A Winter's Tale - Exit pursued by a Beer
Cymbeline - Cym-Bellini

Richard III - The Gimme-let

Macbeth - Bloody Mary Queen of Scots
Hamlet - Best Served Cold, Drowned Ophelia, Get thee to a Winery
Othello - Put of the Light Beer, Green-Eyed Monster
King Lear - Serpent’s Tooth 
Titus Andronicus - Bloody Tamora, Speechless
R&J - Juliet’s Emoji-hito 
Anthony & Cleopatra - The Cleopolitan  


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