Tuesday, December 18, 2007


(Man in the Moon Spoon, $100 @ Tiffany and Co.)

Perhaps it's a ridiculous idea, but I am utterly in love with silver spoons. Or at least the idea of it. The prestige and sense of worth bestowed upon a life. To treasure a child as though he were the sun and the moon and everything in between.

Complicit in this deep-seated love for Tiffany's fine silversmithery is, naturally, Breakfast at Tiffany's, a movie which has so many meanings and is such a heart-wrenchingly inane look at an inane life that it is absolutely absurd to watch it and not feel as though you have had some strange part of yourself excised and placed upon display. That is to say, it really knows how to tug on a heartstring.

Often times, I kind of think about what I imagine my life will be like and, more often than not, I envision kids in my future. Don't know when or how or with whom (if anyone), but I definitely do see kids in my life. I wouldn't know who to live for otherwise. And these brief imaginings are the collected willings of our subconscious, the life we want but are too psychologically repressed to actually admit any such desire. But in these flashes of somewhen, I always imagine using the silver spoon on Birthdays. For ice cream, maybe?

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