black bottom cupcakes

here are my black bottom cupcakes:

here are nathan's black bottom cupcakes:

costco muffins and ice cream, what a splendid breakfast!

dear meg,

you haven't updated your blog since your girlfriend moved up. just saying.

"The thing is to understand myself, to see what God really wishes me to do: the thing is to find a truth which is true for me, to find the idea for which I can live and die. ...I certainly do not deny that I still recognize an imperative of knowledge and that through it one can work upon men, but it must be taken up into my life, and that is what I now recognize as the most important thing."

-Soren Kierkegaard

and our stars align 

in elysian fields at night

and the wheels, they turn

and the fallen heather burns

what i've been saying:

"I spent all day walking around the park, looking for something that might tell me something, but the problem was that I didn't know what I was looking for. I went up to people and asked if they knew anything that I should know... There was nothing, which would have been unfortunate, unless nothing was a clue. Was nothing a clue?"

EL&IC

What I've been after, what I'm still after, is beauty. And maybe that is why I always thought I was in love, why I gave myself over to so many lovers. It sounds like justification to some extent, but maybe it's true, maybe it really is the reason why I was never able to commit, settle down to just one idea, because there is so much beauty in this world. What I'm trying to tell you darling, is that I tried to fly without being aware that my wings were waxen the entire time. And this is how much I love you: before you jumped off the cliff, I checked your wings twice.

The stars fell above me in magnificent heaps and the blue moon glowed with a divine promise. It was a full moon tonight. The ship was quiet after the gaiety of the first night settled down. I felt like I was holding a secret. I looked down. An old woman was leaning over the railing of the bottom deck. She was leaning forward as if she was searching for something she had dropped. She was wearing a white dress, just as Mrs. B had described. But Mrs. B had been wrong about one thing. She had said the woman was wearing a wedding dress; in fact, the dress had no resemblance to one that a bride would wear on her wedding day. Though it was white, the dress looked like it was made for the bearer to weep in; it looked like it was made to be worn at a funeral.