On deep sworn vows, and time
Others because you did not keep
That deep-sworn vow have been friends of mine;Yet always when I look death in the face,
When I clamber to the heights of sleep,
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.
Or when I grow excited with wine,
Suddenly I meet your face.
When I first read W.B Yeats' poem A Deep-sworn Vow back in my late teens, I loved it straightaway -- and re-read it so often that it became committed to my memory.
Back then, I was probably most attracted to the author's solid position in the glamorous state of unrequited love. He is clearly still pining for this person, but he's sticking to his principles and cutting off contact after having been wronged in some way.
But reading the poem today -- at an age that's a few years past those fervent dig-in-your-heels beliefs often held in the heat of youth -- all I can think is that I hope Yeats eventually did reconnect with the subject of A Deep-sworn Vow. The people who affect you that deeply, those who occur to you in vino and in dreams, are often the ones worth forgiving (or at least being on speaking terms with) in this short life.
On politesse
- From a good "get off my lawn" style critique of the current cult of informality in restaurants in the June/July issue of Town and Country.
During my most recent visit to New York City last month, I finally went to La Grenouille, the classic French restaurant in Manhattan pictured above (it has the most flattering rosy lighting that's apparently a point of obsession for the owner.) The T&C author holds up La Grenouille as one of the last paragons of really elegant service, and I have to say that classic style of etiquette can be really nice once in a while. It turns out that when manners are done right, the effect is not snooty at all -- it's actually very welcoming.
Lilly Pulitzer on parties
"That's what life is all about. Let's have a party. Let's have it tonight."
-- from Essentially Lilly: A Guide To Colorful Entertaining, via AP's Lilly Pulitzer obituary
I have never been a big fan of Lilly Pulitzer's dresses (though many stylish women have sworn by them through the years. I think you may have to have gone to prep school or been in a sorority to really pull them off?) But after reading up about her since her passing this past weekend at the age of 81, I am definitely a fan of her snappy bon mots and laid-back approach to entertaining (and shoes, and underwear, and life in general.)
Recommended reading: Vanity Fair's July 2003 profile "Palm Beach's Barefoot Princess" and W Magazine's December 2008 profile "Lilly Land."
Recommended reading: Vanity Fair's July 2003 profile "Palm Beach's Barefoot Princess" and W Magazine's December 2008 profile "Lilly Land."
Bonkers for that bare bulb
"and that moth outside my kitchen door
she's bonkers for that bare bulb
flying round in circles, bashing in her exoskull
and out in the woods she navigates fine by the moon
but get her around a light bulb and she's doomed."
Recently during lunch, a friend made a very convincing argument that people today need more assistance than ever -- whether it's through therapy, self-help regimens, pharmaceuticals, or whatever -- just to maintain some semblance of sanity.
"We've evolved over centuries to live with the land, have a small number of real close relationships. Chop our own wood, go to bed at dusk, wake with the sun," my friend explained. "To be a functional human in the current 'normal' world these days, most of us need some kind of help."
It's reminded me for the first time in years of this Ani DiFranco song called Evolve that I listened to a lot back in college, part of which is excerpted above.
Just like moths, most of us could navigate just fine by the moon -- but get us around all these lightbulbs and screens and whatnot, and it's hard not to lose track a bit.
