curi·ous {Old French curios} Drawn to investigate, prick up the ears, ponder for the sake of pondering. Enticed by mysteriously labeled bottles.
vo·luptu·ary {Late Latin volupturius} A lass devoted to the pursuit of pleasure. An unabashed epicurean, hedonist, libertine, sensualist, lotus-eater.
Okay, I lied. I passed that silly Wilde statue again, and this time I couldn’t resist.
Having enough of closed museums, I decided today—scheduled to be a relatively dry day—I would walk the city. My goal was loosely to see Saint Patrick’s Cathedral, find Francis Street (purported to dripping with antique shops), and generally tucker myself [...]
“Half-Eight,” says Liam, our host at the three-story, wind-rattled, Victorian B & B. He is responding to his own question, “What time would you like breakfast?” to which we have already replied “Not before nine o’clock, please.” Ah, B & B travel. How cozy.
We totter off to our room and sleep all day, recovering [...]
Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go.
~Truman Capote
Tonight, after another day of resting on my back and dreaming of the city beyond my windows–the world of birds and bells—the menfolk return to roast a chicken and potatoes and flourishing salad and a lily for me, now displayed on the [...]
We went to Notre Dame and I lit a candle for Jim and Xie.
I cried by the Seine, thinking how hokey it is to light a candle at Notre Dame and then cry by the Seine and how much I would have liked to tell Jim. I lit it under the statue of Joan of [...]
We had incredible weather today, this must be why Billie Holiday sings about April in Paris. A revelation to wear a frilly skirt after all the days of snow boots. And Lilac seaon! (these are not Lilac, but smell lovely…)
After twelve hours sleep (brutal red-eye flight, neva-eva again!) we walked all day. Gargoyle tits and [...]
The first chunk of A Love Supreme comes through the tinny car speaker. I lean back and let it slide over me. We are driving upstate for an Easter egg hunt and brunch, to hangout with Germans, fags, dogs and the women who love them.
Ali has been teasing me all weekend about being a [...]
I visited New Orleans once, three weeks after 9/11. Getting off the plane and dumped on to Bourbon Street with its hordes of testosteronies slurping Hurricanes from football-shaped and sized containers was heart-stopping in its “how will we survive three whole days here?!” factor.
Eventually we found something of the old Nawlins: the Spanish moss wrought-iron [...]