0417081008, originally uploaded by washwords.
DC in the springtime is breathtakingly beautiful. My
Flickr set features some of my favorite tulips from in and around my immediate neighborhood. I took all of these between 16th and 19th NW, from about P to S streets. There are about a zillion more.
And, shh, my own illicitly planted tulips (a modern-day robin hood am I!) are hidden in this bunch. I’ll let you guess which ones.
Cheers and happy spring.
In trying to find information about my historic (and possibly haunted) Washington, DC home for a personal essay I’m FINALLY trying to shop, I found an abundance of riches in some of the least likely places.
Remember those old school websites? Geocities! Everyone used to have those “animated” angels on such sites or kittycats, and the pages would run floor to ceiling in audacious blues and yellows and lavenders. Clip art galore! the more, the better. and links, links, links – bouncing things, colorful things, windows, “jokes,” funny sound effects. oy vey.
Still, and maybe (definitely) it’s just bitterness at STILL not being listed on DCblogs’ “blogs noted,” DCist or (Washington Post) Express’s recent DC-blogosphere summary (am I invisible? do they not SEE me? I’m funny, I’m witty! Look at me!), I had to admit, there was something about these relics that called to me. Especially when dealing with memory, so today I offer you some blasts from the past, DC style. Read the rest of this entry »
Old friends, Old friends, Sat on their park bench, Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass Falls on the round toes On the high shoes, Of the old friends.
***
Time it was, and what a time it was, it was A time of innocence, a time of confidences Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left of you, they’re all that’s left me to.
-Simon and Garfunkel, 1968
A month or so ago, no, undoubtedly it was longer now, an unknown number showed up on my phone. As is my practice, I didn’t answer. I often don’t answer the phone even when I know the caller- it scares me, disrupts my rhythm and flow of my days, or, in the case, quiet, writing evening. I especially don’t answer when I don’t recognize the number.
A minute later an email came through. This time from a name I DID recognize. “Just looking up old friends. How are you doing? Call me!” said the message from indeed an old friend, an old friend I hadn’t heard from in years, an old friend I once thought I loved, desparately, painfully, though now I know that feeling was just Read the rest of this entry »
