I mean, besides the thought of Jeri Lynn Ryan in a cage hanging from the ceiling, crying?
mig
This was supposed to be an uplifting, group-participation post, and I’ve gone and undermined it before any of you could. Please disregard that first comment, or not.
I love starting my day by reading about (among other things) deer grazing in a misty morning field somewhere in Austria.
mig
I originally posted that question to a previous blog of mine one dark September a while back when there seemed to be a lot of hate going around. Here it is again, because people seem to be concentrating on hate again, or still. Hatred is dangerous, because you turn into what you hate. Just look at me, I hated Nixon as a kid and here I am, a shifty guy with a 5 o’clock shadow in a polyester suit.
mig
And if you think it’s easy getting a 5 o’clock shadow into a polyester suit, think again.
Browsing for used books all afternoon, finding some good ones, reading them all evening. Hot tea. A cafe where they keep bringing me refills (without having to ask) while I write. Writing something I like the next day. Animals. A good laugh. Clear nights. Winter.
Being with friends, chocolate (of course), coming across anything that moves me emotionally, salmon and olive bread (a current passion), hearing good news about others and myself, recognising that I’ve crossed a one-time hurdle, sunny weather in summer, and days without a care in the world.
Chocolate, the smell of a new born baby’s skin, pink apples – still on the tree – wet with morning dew, stretching in the morning, dragons, the sea breeze, cats asleep in the sun, books that you want to go on forever but can’t wait to reach the end of, people smiling, people laughing. Sisters. Parents. Grandparents. Friends.
okay, since we’re going with “what” instead of “who”… i took a list i made a while ago and took out all the names and was left with this. it’s maybe not “love”; let’s call it great affection. in any case, it’s not hate.
beer, belly skin, big words, booze, cheese, cinnamon, clarity, cloves, dali, dark chocolate, garlic, ginger, good spelling, laughing til it hurts, little kids singing, lucky strikes, red wine, salt, sand, secrets, sex, silence, things that stain, veiled cultural references, velvet, vinegar, water, weird pasta shapes, white food.
After coming inside from the bone chilling cold, I love that moment in a hot shower with the hot water cascading over me, when I realize that the cold is no more. Yes, I absolutely love that feeling.
who do i love?
with a certainty, i can say: i love Roo. i love Pete. (the others are on shaky ground…heh. just kidding Mom.)
what do i love?
blog surfing in the afternoon. i also love earl grey tea with sugar and cream. i also, unfortunately, love ciggies. yes. i love the ciggies.
i know they’re very bad for me. this makes me love them even more.
My boyfriend. who as of yesterday became my fiance ;D
Becky
I love gliding through the water in my kayak; first lazily looking up at the osprey playfully circling each other in the sky, and then concentrating on paddling faster and faster, experimenting with and refining my paddling technique for efficiency, speed, comfort, then going all lazy again and enjoying the clouds, birdsong, breeze singing through the trees and dancing across my shoulders.
I love when you wear polyester suits. Polyester is underrated. At least, on some people. On others it should be forbidden.
I love that things are so incredibly unbelievably bad that my previously ambivalent, ironic footwear purchasing, commercial alternative radio listening acquaintances are all coming out as passionate, well spoken, confrontational t-shirt wearing punk rock democrats.
I love being married, possibly more than I miss going out to see bands and dancing til three in the morning, things which are really not the same when you know for sure you’ll be having sex and with whom. I love that I remember vividly what that was like, too, and that I got to behave that way for possibly more than my share of years.
I love that my cat has figured out which squirrels to let climb up into my lap, and which one to growl and hiss and bat at.
I love that there are thousands of people lined up on Telegraph Avenue right now, waiting to wave at Bill Clinton’s motorcade. And that no one’s griping about the road closures. Hi, Bill!
I love having good friends in drastically different time zones, and that that isn’t too much of a hindrance.
I mean, besides the thought of Jeri Lynn Ryan in a cage hanging from the ceiling, crying?
This was supposed to be an uplifting, group-participation post, and I’ve gone and undermined it before any of you could. Please disregard that first comment, or not.
gertrude stein wrote, “how do you like what you have? it is a question anyone can ask. ask it.”
“what do you love?” might be a little too broad for my narrow, narrow mind.
I love starting my day by reading about (among other things) deer grazing in a misty morning field somewhere in Austria.
I originally posted that question to a previous blog of mine one dark September a while back when there seemed to be a lot of hate going around. Here it is again, because people seem to be concentrating on hate again, or still. Hatred is dangerous, because you turn into what you hate. Just look at me, I hated Nixon as a kid and here I am, a shifty guy with a 5 o’clock shadow in a polyester suit.
And if you think it’s easy getting a 5 o’clock shadow into a polyester suit, think again.
Well, deer grazing in a misty morning field somewhere in Austria doesn’t sound so bad.
Browsing for used books all afternoon, finding some good ones, reading them all evening. Hot tea. A cafe where they keep bringing me refills (without having to ask) while I write. Writing something I like the next day. Animals. A good laugh. Clear nights. Winter.
Being with friends, chocolate (of course), coming across anything that moves me emotionally, salmon and olive bread (a current passion), hearing good news about others and myself, recognising that I’ve crossed a one-time hurdle, sunny weather in summer, and days without a care in the world.
I think I’m too cool to answer this seriously. So, I guess I love that. Dammit.
Warm, sunny spots on the carpet and carmel apples.
I love having a daughter who’s favorite word is
“Meep”!
My family. Words. Music. Espresso.
Chocolate, the smell of a new born baby’s skin, pink apples – still on the tree – wet with morning dew, stretching in the morning, dragons, the sea breeze, cats asleep in the sun, books that you want to go on forever but can’t wait to reach the end of, people smiling, people laughing. Sisters. Parents. Grandparents. Friends.
okay, since we’re going with “what” instead of “who”… i took a list i made a while ago and took out all the names and was left with this. it’s maybe not “love”; let’s call it great affection. in any case, it’s not hate.
beer, belly skin, big words, booze, cheese, cinnamon, clarity, cloves, dali, dark chocolate, garlic, ginger, good spelling, laughing til it hurts, little kids singing, lucky strikes, red wine, salt, sand, secrets, sex, silence, things that stain, veiled cultural references, velvet, vinegar, water, weird pasta shapes, white food.
A good book, cold water, warm air, peace and quiet.
At least right now.
(The question was what, not who, right?
After coming inside from the bone chilling cold, I love that moment in a hot shower with the hot water cascading over me, when I realize that the cold is no more. Yes, I absolutely love that feeling.
who do i love?
with a certainty, i can say: i love Roo. i love Pete. (the others are on shaky ground…heh. just kidding Mom.)
what do i love?
blog surfing in the afternoon. i also love earl grey tea with sugar and cream. i also, unfortunately, love ciggies. yes. i love the ciggies.
i know they’re very bad for me. this makes me love them even more.
doing nothing.
My boyfriend. who as of yesterday became my fiance ;D
I love gliding through the water in my kayak; first lazily looking up at the osprey playfully circling each other in the sky, and then concentrating on paddling faster and faster, experimenting with and refining my paddling technique for efficiency, speed, comfort, then going all lazy again and enjoying the clouds, birdsong, breeze singing through the trees and dancing across my shoulders.
Total silence
Summer in Slovenia
Moscow in March
I love when you wear polyester suits. Polyester is underrated. At least, on some people. On others it should be forbidden.
I love that things are so incredibly unbelievably bad that my previously ambivalent, ironic footwear purchasing, commercial alternative radio listening acquaintances are all coming out as passionate, well spoken, confrontational t-shirt wearing punk rock democrats.
I love being married, possibly more than I miss going out to see bands and dancing til three in the morning, things which are really not the same when you know for sure you’ll be having sex and with whom. I love that I remember vividly what that was like, too, and that I got to behave that way for possibly more than my share of years.
I love that my cat has figured out which squirrels to let climb up into my lap, and which one to growl and hiss and bat at.
I love that there are thousands of people lined up on Telegraph Avenue right now, waiting to wave at Bill Clinton’s motorcade. And that no one’s griping about the road closures. Hi, Bill!
I love having good friends in drastically different time zones, and that that isn’t too much of a hindrance.
But most of all,Mig, I love it when you call me Big Poppa.
(http://www.seeklyrics.com/lyrics/Notorious-B-I-G/Big-Poppa.html)
sorry. I just do.
I love figuring something out- understanding at last.
being loved.