I always remember Gabriel García Márquez when I fly. I’m usually very nervous and pessimistic before I board, so I find it helpful to think of a charming short story from Strange Pilgrims, a collection of stories. Since his passing I’ve read some essays about how the English translations are lacking. In a perfect world we would read everything in its original language and use a time machine to fully understand the historical context during which said text was written. Therefore, I don’t mind the English translations. I think Edith Grossman’s version of this passage from “Sleeping Beauty and the Airplane” is great and takes the edge off my upcoming flight. Continue reading
Three years ago my better half hosted a surprise party for me. “Surprise” being the operative word since I nearly had a heart attack and I think I’m still reeling. But it was one of the best gifts ever and I was genuinely touched. Turning 30 was odd nonetheless and I didn’t really accept it until I was several months in 32. But I’ve been waiting my whole life to turn 33 and I’m stoked. Continue reading
In the past 48 hours I have had the uncanny luck of catchy two random summons of art history. It’s a cheap shot, but the first encounter was pretty lame. I won’t get into the chain of events that led to When in Rome (2010) appearing on my DVR, but it was there and I watched it. I actually find Kristen Bell kind of endearing. That is until this scene.
A few months before I was born my family went to Italy to witness the beatification of Don Orione, the namesake of my brother’s school at the time. My mom loved recounting how since she was pregnant with me people were always touching her stomach and someone even said her baby would be very religious. As long as I can remember these anecdotes annoyed me to no end: I couldn’t believe my family went on this European holiday without me. Continue reading