I’m so tired I just wrote that accidentally. And I’m letting it stay. It’s what my linguistics teacher would call ‘metathesis’… or is it a ‘spoonerism’? I don’t think so. I just like that word; it reminds me of spooning. Or maybe it’s a Freudian slip, but I’m not up for psychoanalysis at midnight.
I’m running on little sleep, listening to Regina Spektor, writing an essay on language acquisition, and I came across this on Design*Sponge during a little (is 30 minutes little?) break. And all I want to do is run to the store to get blackberries, but it’s too late so I’ll settle for looking at these lovely photos and commit to making the real deal later. Recipe available here. Night night, and wish me luck on this essay… my brain doesn’t appear to be working at full capacity after this rough week. xo-m
P.S. This lyric just came on… I think it’s lovely. Enjoy the napoleons. x
He’s found a path to her likeness
He eats a small lump of sugar
Smiles at the moon like he knows her