The 13-year-old in me thinks this would look great in my room. These pictures are particularly pretty.

I really don't know what to write about anymore. If I had a baby I could write about all the cute, disgusting and funny things that it would do. Amy Brown's blog is good like that, and especially charming because she knows that chimpanzees are not monkeys. They are apes.

The best baby blog by a person who I have never met is the baby blog belonging to Dooce. This girl is smart, talented and hysterically funny. She has the cutest baby and a really nice husband who is also very cute. She has a new kitchen and a stainless steel refrigerator. Wouldn't you just hope at least that she was very overweight or funny looking or had a club foot? Well, if you are that shallow, I'm very sorry for you.

I wish I could go to London right now and see this installation by Olafur Eliasson at the Tate Modern. Warning though...the web page is awfully yellow.

Someone asked me recently what kind of things make me feel a sense of awe.

I used to have to walk about a mile through the suburbs to get to work, and when I first started doing it, it was extremely boring and horrible. But I happened to be reading a lot about meditation and Buddhism and stuff at the time, and so I started trying to use that time to experiment with meditating and emptying all the thoughts out of my head and letting in everything I saw and heard and felt. When I was able to do it, I would get into this state where I would notice everything, and it was all amazing...like a bright red leaf in a puddle would be the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, or I would crack up looking at a hedge that someone had trimmed into a really silly shape.

Now I live and work in the city, so it is hard to do that kind of thing, because there is so much going on all the time that if I let it all into my head, I would probably explode. So instead, I tend to be in awe of things like the endless variety of faces that I see on the street, or the incredibly complex process it takes for a piece of clothing to get from a sweatshop in Asia to the shelf of the Gap. Or the fact that everyone in the world, even the guy who is driving the subway or the woman who cleans my office has just as many complicated thoughts and emotions and ideas and hopes as I do.

I can't decide which headline I like more:

Curtains for Martha

or

Goose Cooked!

I wish I was spending my free time making pretty little things like these. I could definitely make one of these necklaces, and they are just adorable.

This morning, Sascha got a spam with the following subject line: "its your life bohemia delusive."

I'm pretty sure that Bohemia Delusive is the youngest daughter of Typhoid V. Socialistic. She wears too much eyeliner, takes too much cocaine, and is married to a much older man. But hey, whatever, it's her life.

Watch this ad, and pass it on.

I am really liking the work of Amy Cutler, especially the way she draws those people of hers on a white background with extremely interesting negative space.

And I'm happy to report that Will Cotton has done a painting of flan.

This is the only article I've read that is as disgusted as I was by the way the female characters were treated in Mystic River.

I know that one of the rules of noir is that it's all her fault, but the Coen Brothers are living proof that you can be dark and gritty without being a total sexist jerk. Really, in Mystic River, no female characters would have been an improvement.