swan love

How... cute?

another reason to sleep

Women who sleep less gain more weight, and to my surprise, it's not because of late-night-work-induced munchies. Let's just hope my metabolism isn't affected, because I'm not planning on changing my schedule anytime soon.

spring

temperature-wise, it may not feel like late spring, but apparently the birds are oblivious--at least the one currently chirping outside at 5 am is. "And smale foweles maken melodye, / That slepen al the nyght with open eye..."

Alexander Capelluto

The state of everyday cycling is still abysmal in the US. "Unlike most countries, the vast majority of bikes sold in the United States are used for recreation rather than transportation. About 550,000 Americans -- less than 1 percent of U.S. workers -- bike to work regularly... 'For a lot of people, it's intimidating and you don't feel safe.'" But gas prices ($3.50 per gallon) are starting to change things. "The $286 billion federal transportation bill signed last year will double the amount of money available for bike and pedestrian facilities to about $4 billion. Federal legislation introduced in the Senate last month would offer employers a tax incentive to help cover the cost of riding to work."

Try telling that to Alexander Capelluto, Berkeley '08, who was killed by a 10-wheel truck while biking back from the boathouse on Thursday. The second Yalie in twelve months to die in a biking accident, and the second also to be involved with the Habitat for Humanity ride across the country. You know there's something wrong with a nation when people doing something as simple as biking to raise money for new homes for the needy are endangering their lives.

I was following a freighter truck when my accident happened. If things had gone just a little differently, I could have been the second fatality. Who decides these things? Why Alexander?

Strangely, reading WTNH's article brings to light how Yale-centric the YDN article is. Well, obviously. But there's something upsetting about that disparity too.

apple 24/7

A new Apple store opening in Manhattan that never closes, and furthmore is right by FAO Schwartz (most ridiculously huge toy store in town)? Heaven.

solo e pensoso

Solo e pensoso i più deserti campi
vo misurando a passi tardi e lenti,
e gl'occhi porto per fuggir intenti
dove vestigio human l'arena stampi.
Altro schermo non trovo che mi scampi
dal manifesto accorger de le genti,
perché ne gl'atti d'allegrezza spenti
di fuor si legge com' io dentr'avampi.
Sì ch'io mi cred' homai che monti e piagge
e fiumi e selve sappian di che tempre
sia la mia vita, ch'è celata altrui,
ma pur sì aspre vie né si selvagge
cercar non so ch'Amor non venga sempre
ragionando con meco, et io con lui.

Francesco Petrarca (1304-1374)
stunning settings by Giaches de Wert (Weert, near Antwerp, 1535 – Mantua, 1596) and Luca Marenzio (Coccaglio, c1553 - Rome, 1599)

[Death Valley, winter 2003, tkn]

woopers

San Francisco ferry crash injures 9 at 4:20 pm. And they wonder why.

here without you

I cannot pinpoint why you've been on my mind all day. I listened to the sappy 3 Doors Down song Elvo dug up for me from his junk folder twice this morning with dewy eyes. Perhaps because of that I began to pity myself again. But why that song this morning? Last night I may have dreamt about you after reading your email, but I can no longer recall any dream, just the feather's weight of a memory. Then again, the reason(s) may be circumstantial. It's been warm and sunny for three days, I've been out cycling again alone anxious and exhilarated discovering my little bikeable world, I've been practicing diligently and better at the carillon than ever, I've been savoring luxurious chocolates several times a day, I've been cooking and eating out well, I've been sleep-deprived and pmsing, I've been alone for the weekend, and somehow some or all or none of it brings me back to thinking of you. I forget sometimes what it was like to think of you, but days like this force the memory, and again I am haunted by some profound solitude, the depth of which I can only comprehend when it has already taken hold of me. Nearly two years ago, I could hardly bike for the memory of you after you left for Europe. In Europe myself, biking finally helped me reconcile myself with the thought of you--the faster I flew, the further behind you seemed. Now I take off on my bike, and the very activity that helped me escape the memory of you takes me straight to you. Millay, is there ever relief?