Saturday Love List #1

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My name is Tori Telfer, and I’m a fatalist.

I just finished writing an extremely inflammatory blog post about Girls, Django Unchained, and Silver Linings Playbook, which I’m pretty sure would have lost me 90% of my friends (whatever, I’m right, ART IS NOT OBLIGATED TO REFLECT THE REAL WORLD OR TAKE THE MORAL HIGHGROUND ABOUT ANY ISSUE WHATSOEVER, BE IT GENDER, INCOME, RACE, PRIVILEGE, OR MENTAL ILLNESS–AND YOU’RE DELUSIONAL IF YOU THINK IT SHOULD. L’ART POUR L’ART! L’ART POUR L’ART!).

But then I stopped yelling for two seconds and skipped on over to my dear friend Rose’s sunny, adorable, quirky blog (check it out now or I’ll knife you) and I thought to myself: IS TORIDOTGOV TURNING INTO A WASTELAND OF DEPRESSION AND RAGE, HAUNTED BY THE ARCHETYPE OF THE SHADOW? (I’m really into Carl Jung right now.)

And then I thought: Tori, you are a nice young girl of considerable talent (capslock, making simple syrups, adding gin to things). Why are you giving yourself wrinkles by slouching around the wilds of the Midwest, scowling like an old Norse god?

So–hells bells, this is hard–I have decided to be positive for five seconds and write a love list like Rose does. Ahem. Here goes. Okay. Here are some things that I’m not totally bummed about:

1. My amazing morning.

This Saturday morning has been so blissfully lazy that it may have catapulted me into early retirement. My bed has been drowning in a patch of sunlight and I have been lounging in it like a cat for hours, drinking a cafe au lait from Feast and alternately reading The Writer’s Journey and re-reading Blonde (it honestly should have gotten the Pulitzer, Joyce Carol Oates is never going to get nominated again, it’s a total shame, the book is utterly heartbreaking and exquisitely crafted). I stayed off the computer for a few hours and was reminded of how amazing books and coffee and zebra pillows and white sheets are when you pile them all in the same place at the same time and dive into them like a salmon leaping upstream.

2. Certain hysterical girlfriends.

This is both a boon and a curse, because missing my girlfriends is like being in a SECOND long-distance relationship. But today on Facebook I was reminded of a sleepover that we had in Geneva, Illinois, and it gave me a serious nostalgia buzz (it’s at thing, trust me). This sleepover involved way too much wine, movies about sex cults, wandering through adorable antique stores, and being yelled at on trains. We attempted to get over our hangovers by throwing a FASCIST PROM-themed party the very next night (no joke) and drinking gin-spiked champagne while crying about our futures (guilty). We danced to “Bitch” and they hugged me and pretended like I wasn’t a total maniac. Every day is a Girls episode but cooler with these ladies.

3. My camera.

Yes, my parents don’t understand me in a lot of ways. But this Christmas, they patiently waited as I returned presents like a spoiled child, stalked Craigslist, analyzed and deconstructed the cameras therein–and then they drove me to a really creepy area of San Diego so I could buy my first DSLR Camera. And then my dad took me to a photography museum so I could be inspired. That was really nice of them and it’s so easy to forget the nice things that parents do when you have psychologically never left your teenage years behind.

4. Knowing actual poets.

I feel bad for people who aren’t friends with actual working publishing poets. I mean, nothing is cooler cuz people are like, Keats and Shelly are long dead!!! and then you rip off your jacket and you’re wearing a Poetry Lives t-shirt (that was an extended metaphor, something my poet friends taught me how to wield like a sword at long mojito-fueled picnics, and that sword thing was called a SIMILE). Check it:

Gulls by Lisa Hiton (Guernica)
Lion Orders a Frisco Melt at Steak ‘n Shake by Doug Paul Case (Vinyl Poetry)
Thirty by Leslie Marie Aguilar (Emerge Literary Journal)

5. My boyfriend (awwwww).

First of all, he secretly has the greatest comedic timing of anyone I’ve ever met. Second of all, his hair looks great at any length (yes, ladies, we sort of hate him because of it). Third of all, I’m not saying tomorrow is our anniversary or anything, BUT MAYBE IT IS. xoxo

 

(Notice that “writing” is not on this list today. We’re at a very tempestuous stage in our relationship now.)

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