"The less I needed, the better I felt."

Charles Bukowski

Tar Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

There truly aren't words to tell how much my Papa means to me.

One of my all time favorite memories is sitting on his lap with my older brother and listening to him read Uncle Remus's stories. His voice boomed and despite his reserved demeanor, he would let loose and read the stories the way they were meant to be read--with excitement and the good ole rich southern dialect.

One day atter Brer Rabbit fool 'im wid dat calamus root, Brer Fox went ter wuk en got 'im some tar, en mix it wid some turkentime, en fix up a contrapshun w'at he call a Tar-Baby, en he tuck dish yer Tar-Baby en he sot 'er in de big road, en den he lay off in de bushes fer to see what de news wuz gwine ter be. En he didn't hatter wait long, nudder, kaze bimeby here come Brer Rabbit pacin' down de road--lippity-clippity, clippity -lippity--dez ez sassy ez a jay-bird. Brer Fox, he lay low. Brer Rabbit come prancin' 'long twel he spy de Tar-Baby, en den he fotch up on his behime legs like he wuz 'stonished. 

De Tar Baby, she sot dar, she did, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

"`Mawnin'!' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee - `nice wedder dis mawnin',' sezee.

"Tar-Baby ain't sayin' nuthin', en Brer Fox he lay low.

"`How duz yo' sym'tums seem ter segashuate?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee.

"Brer Fox, he wink his eye slow, en lay low, en de Tar-Baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin'.

"'How you come on, den? Is you deaf?' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. 'Kaze if you is, I kin holler louder,' sezee.

"Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

"'You er stuck up, dat's w'at you is,' says Brer Rabbit, sezee, 'en I;m gwine ter kyore you, dat's w'at I'm a gwine ter do,' sezee.

"Brer Fox, he sorter chuckle in his stummick, he did, but Tar-Baby ain't sayin' nothin'.

"'I'm gwine ter larn you how ter talk ter 'spectubble folks ef hit's de las' ack,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee. 'Ef you don't take off dat hat en tell me howdy, I'm gwine ter bus' you wide open,' sezee.

"Tar-Baby stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

"Brer Rabbit keep on axin' 'im, en de Tar-Baby, she keep on sayin' nothin', twel present'y Brer Rabbit draw back wid his fis', he did, en blip he tuck 'er side er de head. Right dar's whar he broke his merlasses jug. His fis' stuck, en he can't pull loose. De tar hilt 'im. But Tar-Baby, she stay still, en Brer Fox, he lay low.

"`Ef you don't lemme loose, I'll knock you agin,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, en wid dat he fotch 'er a wipe wid de udder han', en dat stuck. Tar-Baby, she ain'y sayin' nuthin', en Brer Fox, he lay low.

"`Tu'n me loose, fo' I kick de natal stuffin' outen you,' sez Brer Rabbit, sezee, but de Tar-Baby, she ain't sayin' nuthin'. She des hilt on, en de Brer Rabbit lose de use er his feet in de same way. Brer Fox, he lay low. Den Brer Rabbit squall out dat ef de Tar-Baby don't tu'n 'im loose he butt 'er cranksided. En den he butted, en his head got stuck. Den Brer Fox, he sa'ntered fort', lookin' dez ez innercent ez wunner yo' mammy's mockin'-birds.

"`Howdy, Brer Rabbit,' sez Brer Fox, sezee. `You look sorter stuck up dis mawnin',' sezee, en den he rolled on de groun', en laft en laft twel he couldn't laff no mo'. `I speck you'll take dinner wid me dis time, Brer Rabbit. I done laid in some calamus root, en I ain't gwineter take no skuse,' sez Brer Fox, sezee."

.  .  .

Here Uncle Remus paused, and drew a two-pound yam out of the ashes.

"Did the fox eat the rabbit?" asked the little boy to whom the story had been told.

"Dat's all de fur de tale goes," replied the old man. "He mout, an den agin he moutent. Some say Judge B'ar come 'long en loosed 'im - some say he didn't. 

Derek Eads

Derek Eads created these pictures of Bill Murray and some of his most famous lines.

I think they're wonderful.

The Life Aquatic

The Fantastic Mr. Fox

The Royal Tenenbaums

The Darjeeling Limited

Rushmore

I often dress like it's fall when it's actually far from it.

I decided that I'm going to go back to my 4th grade self and start an insect collection. I'm quite excited.

"If this isn't nice, I don't know what is."

"'Do they collide?' 

I ask and you smile.
With my feet on the dash, the world doesn't matter."

 A very special thank you to my treasured friend, Chandler Jones for asking me to accompany him to the Ryman to see Death Cab for Cutie. While in the pews of the historic tabernacle-turned-auditorium, my head was floating and my heart was rhythmically bobbing up and down in a deep sea of teenage memories. Days and nights of riding in the passenger seat down long, country roads or through slick, city streets with someone special. Solitary meditations. Pulling off to the side of the road to catch snowflakes on our tongues when a snow shower surprises us. Sunny drives home from school and autumn days. Death Cab for Cutie weaved its way all throughout my teenage years--making patterns, adding subtle embellishments, and double stitching seams for a lasting hold. 

Those memories are there to stay, so it was truly heartwarming to be able to listen a band that held such a special place in my life for so many years.

Bouncing, silly pictures, presents, finding literary gold, Death Cab Dr. Peppers, sleepy stories, french toast with hot tea or coffee, jokes, loads of laughter, a small nap, and a very early morning drive home.

“And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, 'If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.” -Kurt Vonnegut

"And I do believe it's true.
That there are roads left in both of our shoes,
but if the silence takes you then I hope it takes me, too.
So, brown eyes I hold you near, cause you're the only song I want to hear.
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere."

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"Remember you are not you, now. You are you a year from now. How does that woman walk? She is not sick or sad. Doesn't even remember today. Has been to Europe. What song is she humming? Now. Right now. That's it."

-Marty McConnell

Tunes of July

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"Do you really think you can just put it in a safe behind a painting, lock it up and leave?"

The National

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"And the truth is I've been dreaming of some tired, tranquil place where the weather won't get trapped inside my bones. And if all the years of searching find one sympathetic face, then it's there I will plant these seeds and make my home."

Bright Eyes

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"Your flavor in my mind, swings back and forth between sweeter than any wine, and as bitter as mustard greens. And it's light and dark as honeydew and pumpernickel bread. The trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead. Go plow some other field and try and forget my name, We'll see what harvest yields, and, supposing I'd do the same. I planted rows of peas, but the first week of July -- they should have come up to my knees but they were maybe ankle high. Take the fingers from your flute to weave your colored yarns, and boil down your fruit to preserves in mason jars. And the books are overdue and the goats are underfed... the trap I set for you seems to have caught my leg instead."

mewithoutYou

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"Birds are in the sky, the land's been gone for days, and all you left was time to find a solid grave. Pirates never loved the way that I do. You never say enough to keep me next to you. Now I hold my poems for ladies unknown. Until my hands go weak, I'll be a ghost ship on the blue."

Dead Man's Bones

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"I dreamed you were a cosmonaut of the space between our chairs and I was a cartographer of the tangles in your hair. . . In time you need to learn to love, the ebb just like the flow."

Andrew Bird

After several weeks of stifling heat and sticky humidity that dampens your skin within minutes of being outside...it's finally raining. For a few days, it seemed like everyone was going about life as half-baked zombies. People lost their enthusiasm, moods shifted, and everyone moved slowly-like lions on the savannah searching for shady shelter. But the rain is acting as a sort of calming agent. Everything is quieter and I can tell that people are soaking it up, observing it, and sweetly welcoming it. 

It's strange how weather ties people together. Someone countries away can be feeling the effects of the same storm force or the same heat wave. Someone twenty states over may be experiencing the sort of weather that your area needs, and you know that they're looking at your state on the map and thinking about what it would be like to be where you are. Someone in your city may be walking in the same rainstorm or underneath the same shining sun. It's nice to think that weather is something that we all share. We all use the Earth. It's nice to embrace what it gives back to us.

I can't wait to share the glorious weather of autumn with all of you.

Salutations!

Happy birthday, E.B. White!

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“You have been my friend," replied Charlotte. "That in itself is a tremendous thing...after all, what's a life anyway? We're born, we live a little while, we die...By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone's life can stand a little of that.” 

"Be bold. But not bold, be fucking bold."

James Frey

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"The breaking of a wave cannot explain the whole sea."

-Vladimir Nabokov

When I was ten, I stood in my mom's bathroom and ate these candies. For some reason, I didn't commit the name of the candy to memory, so that important tid-bit was lost forever.

All I knew was every detail.

"It comes in mini packages like War Heads."

"It's hard and sweet. Then it starts fizzing."

"The packages have little faces on them. There's a punk one, a movie star, one is wearing a hat...etc."

"The packages are brightly colored."

"They have names for the people on the packages. Like, Razzle Dazzle or something."

And these are the things I would tell people when I spent countless hours researching them, using only these details. Through my research I found that the manufacturer went out of business and that no one on the internet knew the name of this crazy candy. Ten years of failed searches.

Spring 2012, the candy resurfaced. Fate. An online search revealed that there is a man in Canada who makes vodka drinks using candies and one drink was made within the last year, using Bizzerks (THE candy). My eyes welled with tears and my face blushed the color of the red flavor 

"Strawberry Fizz"-- a cartoon pimp looking guy who looks mighty successful. 

Ten years later, after months of emailing the man from Canada, I am sitting on my couch and popping a Bizzerk into my mouth.

Elation.

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"So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one in the end—not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words "I have something to tell you," a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother's papery ancient hand in the thicket of your hair, the memory of your father's voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children."

Joyas Voladoras.

-Brian Doyle