july 14, 2001. Bastille Day When France in wrath her giant limbs upreared, And with that oath which smote earth, air, and sea, Stamped her strong foot and said she would be free, Bear witness for me, how I hoped and feared! - "france: an ode," samuel taylor coleridge "Liberty is a bitch who must be bedded on a mattress of corpses." - louis-antoine st. just Today I felt a profound restlessness despite the wonderful things we accomplished. I think it is because I woke up homesick and couldn't shake the empty feeling all day. It has translated into a frenzy of nesting & snacking; one will leave me broke and the other will leave me disgusted. But tonight I just couldn't leave the feta alone. We bought a block for the greek salad, and I'm absolutely captivated by the presentation. Imagine, putting salty cheese in brine! It makes a good thing even better, no? The nesting is a different matter entirely (or so I hope). I read an article yesterday called Punk Fui, or Feng Shui For the Rest of Us, and it's made me profoundly itchy to redecorate. We've been here a year, and we'll be here another year at least; but that's not long enough to justify a paint job. The thing is, I've been making due with industrial white for a long time now. It's the colour of rent, the colour of short-term commitment. I want my rooms to be more like me, which would in turn make me as happy as a sandboy. Unfortunately, I have the feeling that my days of industrial white will be long upon this earth. But I did manage to do a few positive things this weekend. My bedroom has an identity crisis. It has everything it needs (a bed and a lamp and a bureau). It's the victim of minimum budgeting and maximum utility. I did my best with postcards and Scherezade's old pastel drawings, but it wasn't enough. Then a couple of weeks ago we finally installed our cast-iron candle brackets over the bed and it was like crossing the Rubicon: suddenly my bedroom morphed from a place where I am to a place where I like to be. It wasn't just the soft, beautiful light (but make no mistake, that's a great part too), it was the addition of something that was just there for beauty and grace. To continue this good feeling, I've added a small high shelf in the corner behind the bed. According to Punk Fui this is the marriage corner, and I felt that the current arrangement of an inactive RTD2 phone on top of a packing-crate-cum-nightstand simply wouldn't cut it anymore. The wall brackets are black metal and match the candle holders in spirit if nothing else. I filled the shelf with wedding pictures, a candle, "Marriage Lines" by Ogden Nash, our guest book, our white porcelain 'trophy,' the CD we burned to play during the feast, and two shellacked bride & groom nuts with googly eyes on a wooden stand which bears the inscription 'you must be nuts!' I also included tokens from Poet & Marcie's wedding last May, which should broaden the che a little. The whole exercise felt very talismanic and immensely comforting. Next step to greater che: living plants! As in have-to-keep-watering-them plants! Oh, who am I kidding. Plants must view my house as Houston Death Row. No chance of parole. Tonight we watched Funny Face, which was just no-holds-barred corny good fun, especially the interpretative dance sequence. I loved the confused/disgusted look on Fred Astaire's face. You could tell that he was thinking, "who is this dizzy chick? I don't deserve this. I was in Easter Parade, you know." The Boy commented a number of times that Audrey Hepburn is "hot," thus sweeping the Most Obvious Declarative Statement Awards. I could write the accompanying Onion article in 30 seconds. this time last year: the infamous call girl transcript