In 1920, Ernest Hemingway, then a freelance journalist for The Toronto Star and struggling writer, wrote this letter to his wife Hadley:
“You can make me jealous—and you can hurt most awfully—’cause my loving you is a chink in the armour of telling the world to go to hell and you can thrust a sword into it at any time—”
And then he goes on to say,
“‘Course I love you—I love you all the time—when I wake up in the morning and have to splash around and shave—I look at your picture and think about you—and that’s a pretty deadly part of a day as you know and a good test of loving any one.“
You can read and view Hemingway’s letter in all it’s original handwritten glory here.
I have been reading simultaneously The Sun Also Rises and A Moveable Feast, I cannot get enough early Hemingway, and this letter is an excellent example of why his writing, while sometimes indulgent and dawdling, is also very evocative and moving.
Yes, he betrayed Hadley, and married four times, before shooting himself in the head, but as he writes in A Moveable Feast, “I wish I had died before I ever loved anyone but her.“
In Metz, France
Found in Basel, Switzerland
I left Canada six months ago without a return ticket, not knowing where life would take me. I have been living out of a backpack, rationing food, sleeping on buses and railway station benches. I have written, I have photographed, I have filmed, I have run, I have swam, I have danced all night, I have cycled, I have froze, I have bronzed, I have planked, I have made 13 different countries know my name, I have coughed up blood and screamed til I was hoarse… After a very sad September, I just wanted to feel the Earth moving before my eyes again, carrying me with it to some unknown destination.
Today I move from London UK to Cologne Germany for the beginning of another great journey…
Don’t wait up.
Yes, I do see the irony of Instagramming a photo of a sign that mocks people who Instragram photos of signs, but whatever, I’m a hipster who follows orders.
At least this shop on Shoreditch High Street knows it’s demographics!
Aging I did not fear, until I examined her wrinkles.
In her wrinkles appeared a prevailing darkness and monstrosity.
All sorts of vesicles, salts, and ruddiness
And life is swallowed up by these wrinkles,
suffocated while still sleeping.
And no one sees, man pretends himself awake,
But falls asleep, reclined upon his chest.
Never in his life to wake.
From what I’ve been able to gather, Nitzan Mintz is an Israeli street artist and poet, and she recently had an exhibit in London. This was found near Old Street.
In a few days, my Thailand-Cambodia-SituAsian and my Eurail.com campaign begin, which will see me travelling, exploring, and adventuring away from home until at least 2013. And as this year turns into the next, I realize that I have just endured the hardest 12 months of my life thus far.
Avid readers of this blog will remember this post from August 2011, just over 13 months ago, from the same week that Jack Layton died. That day I was diagnosed with a scary medical condition – dyplastic cells with the ability to become cancerous.
Since that day, I have been cut, bled, swabbed, examined, biopsied, cell-scraped, blood-tested, ultra-sounded, reduced to tears whilst on the examining table, and pumped fulla immune-boosting pills.
Last week I had another one of my regularly-scheduled examinations at the hospital, and my doctor said that after having so many negative lab results (“negative” meaning “no occurrence of abnormality or cancer”), I’m in the clear. My body has fought this thing and flushed the dyplastic cells out of my body.
She had predicted my body would do this anyway, but she had said it would take two years. My body did it in one.
I’m relieved, I’m elated, and I can stop with the dress rehearsal of my life and actually resume living it. The hospital is still going to monitor me for certainty’s sake, but I only have to go in every six months, as opposed to every other month.
It could have been so different. Almost all of my friends who have also been diagnosed with this have had to have emergency surgery to remove the cells. What’s even more worrying is how many women this affects.
I haven’t really spoken about this condition on here over the past year, mostly because I feel like people’s medical history is a private matter. But I will also say that far too many women are not going for their annual check ups because of apathy. If caught early, dysplasia is almost entirely treatable and curable.
If left untreated, it becomes a killer of women. Worldwide it kills approximately 253, 500 people a year. Remember, dysplasia has no symptoms, so just because you feel fine doesn’t mean you’re in the clear.
If I hadn’t gone for my annual check-up, I would still be in the dark. As would all of my friends who had the surgery, who would now be fighting for their lives.
Yes, this is my public service announcement post. There is nothing more important than your health, everything else can wait. Just make the appointment and go.
I’m talking about this now because my upcoming backpacking-extravaganzas are the epitome of living life, of loving life, of having new experiences, of meeting new people, of seeing the world, and the never-say-die-run-til-you-drop joie de vivre.
Armed with good health, you can do anything.
Mae West once said, “You only live once, but if you do it right, once is enough.”
‘Course, comedian Jamie Lee once said, “My body is like my temple . . . because sometimes my Rabbi is in it.”
L’chaim, my little munchkins!
I’m taking care of a pair of cats while their owner is moving house.
Their names are Zoe and Sammy.
Or, as I like to call them …..
annnnnnnnnd, it’s out of my system.
Aren’t I a cheeky bugger.
But it makes sense. Arcade Fire ARE from Montreal, ya know. IT’S ENTIRELY POSSIBLE that they decided on their name after a fire occurred on this street.
Oh, don’t give me that look.
The Girl Who Played With (Arcade) Fire.
i just have to tell this anecdote, because everyone is talking about Tosh’s rape joke (which i found to be the best example of bullying, of inflicting pain, and of trying to control people’s responses to his stupid-ass, lame jokes… but i’ll let curtis luciani explain why Tosh’s joke was seriously fucked up, he does it better than i).
when i was living in London, England, i was at a shop, and in line to pay at the counter. there were two blokes in line ahead of me.
one of the guys yawned.
the other guy, who did not know him, STUCK HIS FINGER IN THE FIRST GUY’S MOUTH and yelled,
picture that for a moment.
now seeing as how they didn’t know each other, i thought the first guy might get a bit upset.
but no. instead, the first guy smirked and said, “it’s a good job i didn’t fart, innit?”
and that, ladies and gentlemen, is the ONLY RAPE JOKE THAT IS FUNNY.
next time you’re with one of your mates and they yawn, try doing the yawn rape. it’s a fun game anyone can play, and heaven only knows what kinda mayhem it will cause.
PROJECT MAYHEM YAWN RAPE.
if you missed it this week, check out this short film i made, documenting the street art i found all over new york. it’s set to a wicked track and it’s peppy, snappy, and fun.
occupy street walls!
“Sometime, Mother Nature breaks the internet just to let it know what’s up.”
North 6th and Berry, Williamsburg
this is how i weed out substandard suitors.
she’s not aware yet but she’s yours. she’ll be saying use me, show me the jacuzzi.
get off the bandwagon and put down the handbook.
your pastimes consisted of the strange and twisted and deranged.
fuck yeah alex turner!
enjoy the weekend, munchkins! make sure you spend it listening to your favourite band while dancing around your room in your undies with the blinds WIDE OPEN. (Hi neighbours!)
i love QI.
nobel prize winning physicist steven weinberg once said, “the good will do good, and the evil will do evil. but if you want a good person to do evil things, that takes religion.”
have a great weekend, my free-thinking munchkins!
c’mon, you didn’t actually think i made up that right-sidebar quote, did you? ->
i once photographed this saying on the streets of NYC too, see:
Eva: Why didn’t you kill me?
Kevin: You don’t want to kill your audience.
bon fin semaine, mes ’tis choufleurs!
my Twitter handle has been painted onto a wall near King Street East and Church. I know who put it there, and why ….
i never do graffiti myself, but i like the idea that other people are doing it for me.