Tag Archives: Venezia

Just a little bit.

Umberto Boccioni (1882-1916), "Dynamism of a Cyclist," 1913. On long-term loan to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice.

Umberto Boccioni (1882-1916), "Dynamism of a Cyclist," 1913. On long-term loan to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, Venice.

Finals-ing. It’s kind of painful, but I’ll be done soon, then I’ll be back with you once more, dear readers. Listening to Christmas carols and a lot of Joni Mitchell. Arguably too much of both. Don’t you be raising a skeptical eyebrow out there. I know my taste and I’m just fine with it, thank you, prone to mush though it may be.

Itching for Friday and travels and the time and space to be alone and think a lot, yet knowing I’m going to miss this so very, very much. Feeling Christmas’ fast approach and looking forward to home. None of this is connected to the sappy music I’ve been listening to. No, none of it.

Italy is certainly a blessing.

More to come. Baci.

P.S. The Wien-Salzburg-München excursion was breathtaking, rest assured. Pictures are up. A story will come of it soon. Soon soon soon.

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Things for which I’m Thankful: 2008

Thanksgiving. The night was spent with the school. My table was Hannah, Leslie,and Claudius, our German, happy-being-awkward professor of European politics, all for whom I'm grateful.

Thanksgiving. The night was spent with the school, merry-making. My table was Hannah, Leslie, and Claudius, our German, content-to-be-awkward professor of European politics. I'm quite grateful for all of these people.

— What can be summed up as the Miracle: the miracle that is my family of friends — friends who make and share meals together, share values, brawl around Portland on bikes, sleep under desks, listen, hold, edit, reflect, share burdens, send love letters and care packages, play pool, languish in Prexy, take the dog to the vet and then to Mt. Hood, hold gatherings for the express purpose of sharing 22s of Portland beer, spoon at the end of dance parties, dance, turn up the vinyl, make the pancakes at the dawn of the day or the middle of the night, go swimming fully clothed (or partially, whatever), bring spare toddies on hot afternoons, like kale, refine their gluten preferences, overcome, go to senate, harmonize, share their space heaters, skip town for the day, talk about The Future, teach me how to count, hold me up, lift me up — all together. I love you guys. Mush mush mush.
— Reed College and Opportunity.
— My bicycle.
— The tiny beginning of a family at the Gallery.
— The Reed music department and the amount of autonomy it allows me.
— Stumptown coffee.
— I miei insegnanti di composizione e cantare alla Scuola di Musica di Fiesole — Maestri Kamran Khacheh e Gabriele Lombardi.
— The impressionists.
— Italian leather products.
— Likewise, wool. “Cosa di lana!!”
— Reed dance parties.
— Student loans.
— Being able to ask where the bathroom is in several different languages.
— Having the right to vote and speak and educate myself.
— Libraries. Particularly Hauser.

"corn and leak chowder" and "corn on the cop." Also, sideways. Sorry.

— The European rail system.

— Amsterdam, Firenze, Pescia, London, Cortona, San Gimignano, Venezia, Roma, Salzburg, Wien, München, Berlin, Dublin, Paris.

— Not being in Venezia anymore. But that one’s only kind of true.
— That there’s a bed and a room and a window and a collection of books and a warm kitchen all waiting for me in Portland.
— My mommy and my godparents.

P.S. I’m done with school in 18 days. Shhhh.

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