Departure

I am going to France and Italy for a week. 

I'll get back to you.

ha ha. love you all very much.

So indie punk rock you will not believe

Okay, I know I just wrote to you yesterday (so you're terribly tired of me), but I just realized that I left out a significant experience: going to an underground (literally and figuratively) indie English rock concert (it was so subterranean)! Think...skinny boys (to an uncomfortable extent). My favorite band there: Sketches (who were so indie they only had a vinyl).  The venue: Mole's (as the name suggests: a dingy club below street-level), where the musical geniuses of the night - dressed in plaid shirts and adorable sweaters - gather to revel in the unknown music scene. Sketches (http://www.myspace.com/sketchesband) was incredible, though, unfortunately, their recorded material is not nearly as good as them live (I know - how awfully pompous). At one point, the one nearest to starvation (blond, jean jacket, right) whipped out some drumsticks from his back pocket and started wildly banging the drum, standing up, with his hands high above his head, his body curving back and forth like a wishbone. It was pretty wonderful. And the best part: I found out about the concert through my housemate Kelly, who met one of the bands on the street (and casually conversed with them about her experience feeding a pidgeon). They came up to us before they went on: clearly, my "cool" indicator sky-rocketed that night (as if it could get any higher...good thing I brought my skinny jeans...). I think I want to steal the one with the purple pant's haircut.

Writing & Trying to be Thoreau (in England)

Dearest friends,

Hi. I have been writing papers for the last two weeks with very little sleep (as the photograph insinuates: all night team angst!), meaning coffee has been my only staple in the last 14 days.

But I am recovering, beginning last night with a James Bond-themed birthday party for two of my housemates, Christine and Kelly. And tonight was wonderful: We went out for sushi and then to this wonderful French café that reminded me of Amélie: red wicker chairs, French mirrors, warm, sensual colors. It was such a romantic night: misty rain outside, lit windows, chocolate, coffee (all that was missing was a lover...ha ha).  It is unreal to live here everyday: buying bananas at the market, picking up flowers at the stand down the street, sipping cider at the pub...I've been (inconsistently and not nearly as intensively as Maddie) running around my neighborhood - through little cobblestone streets, old church graveyards, ivy-covered houses, walled-in gardens, estates (with titles like Widcombe Manor), a trail along the canal...all indescribably beautiful and quaint. I find myself touching the stone walls, just to feel it is real. My favorite spot is up a hill through some grazing cows where I sit under a tree and look over all of Bath, lit with the end of the day and the colors of Autumn (think of the scenes of the countryside in the most recent Pride and Prejudice film). I know there is probably so much more to tell you, but I am tired of writing after this week, so instead I'll leave you with a poem I finished a little bit ago:

The Secret Heart

O, trees above me like stars,
dirt roads of whispers,
the river is lit with the end,
and God, weaved in me
like my mountains at home,
rests in my soul.
 
A waking lake with warm, white breath,
an early morning clinging to my insides,
I sing you a troubled song,
God in blue green waters,
I wait for you to make me beautiful.
 
I long for the Lord,
hinging between heaven and earth,
not always despair – 
I have dreams of you,
and some days of heaven –
dust settling on the lit river,
stillness in between so many sorrows
for such a blessed girl.
 
Dying days and people grow in me,
like rivers in wilderness –
finding me, leaving me;
making me strong with knowing.
I would unlearn truth for nothing.
 
Seeing worlds in this earth:
I am undone here
in the valley of trees,
my body unclothed,
myself in a moment,
naked, knowing, and unashamed.
 
How can I ever begin
the long, troubling roads
leading to this haunting Eden?
I will never feel so finished –
so loved and alone.
 
Oh, Lord, leave me here by the velvet waters
and I will praise this dust forever.