Every Day - David Levithan (1)

I watched as she picked everything out of the picnic hamper. Cheeses. French bread. Hummus. Olives. Salad. Chips. Salsa.
   "Are you vegetarian?" I ask, based on the evidence in front of me.
    She nods.

    "Why?"
    "Because I have this theory that when we die, every animal that we've eaten has a chance at eating us back. So if you're a carnivore and you add up all the animals you're eaten-well, that's a long time in purgatory, being chewed."

    "Really?"

She laughs. "No. I'm just sick of the question. I mean, I'm vegetarian because I think it's wrong to eat other sentient creatures. And it sucks for the environment."
     "Fair enough." I don't tell her how many times I've accidentally eaten meat while I've been in a vegetarian's body. It's just not something I remember to check for. It's usually the friends' reactions that alert me. I once made a vegan really, really sick at a McDonald's.

Every you, every me - David Levithan (3)

"What is the answer, Ewan?" Ms. Granger asked.

Giraffe, I wanted to answer. It was on the tip on my tounge.
Giraffe.
This was in math class.

Every you, every me - David Levithan (2)

Instead I thought about the world profile and that a weird double meaning it had. We say we're looking at a person's profile online, or say a newspaper is writing a profile on someone, and we assume it's the whole them we're seeing. But when a photographer takes a picture of a profile, you're not only seeing half the face. Like with Sparrow, whoever he was. It's never the way you would remember seeing them, You never remember someone in profile. You remember them looking you in the eye, or talking to you. You remember an image that the subject could never see in a mirror, because you are the mirror. A profile, photographically, is perpendicular to the person you know.

Every you, Every me - David Levithan (1)

My mind became a brief history of empty boxes.
The big cardboard ones I'd find as a kind and turn into a fort. Or a house, drawing in windows on the sides. I would cut out the windows and ruin it.
Boxes that sweaters would come in. Boxes from department stores that I would keep in the bottom of my closet until they could be filled with some kind of collection.
Coffins.
The Cracker Jack box when I was all done, when the prize had been revealed to be something plastic, something worthless.
An empty sandbox, looking like it was waiting for sand.
A mailbox always looks like it's full of envelopes. But you never know for sure. Most of the time when you open it, it sounds hollow.
What did Pandora do with her box after she'd unleashed despair into the world? Did she keep it on her mantel, as a reminder of what she's done? 

Are We There Yet? - David Levithan

David Levithan and I have a good relationship. I think this is the eight book from him I read. I like his way to write a lot. Two brothers traveling in Italy. Watching art and trying to get on together. What's not to like?



Elijah moves over in his bed and Cal lies down beside him.
"Do you wonder...? she begins. This is their game  Do you wonder? Every night - every night when it's possible - the last thing to be heard is the asking without answer.
They stare at the glow-in-the-dark planets on the ceiling, or to turn sideways to trace each other's blue-black outlines, trying to detect the shimmer of silver as they speak.
This night, Cal asked, "Do you wonder if we'll ever learn to sleep with our eyes open?"
And in return, Elijah askes, "Do you think there can be such a thing as too much happiness?"
This is Elijah's favourite time. He rarely know what he is going to say, then suddenly it's there. 
Above them. Liftning.
A few minutes pass. Cal sits up and puts her hand on Elijah's shoulder.
"Goodnight, sleep tight," she whispers.
"Don't let the bedbugs bite," he chimes, nestling deeper under the covers.
---


Morning.
Breakfast.
"You fool," Elijah says, glancing at the menu.
"What?" Danny grunts.
"I said, 'You fool.'"
Danny looks at the menu and understands.
"No," he says. "I won't quiche you."
"Quiche me, you fool! Please!"
"If you say that any louder, you're toast."
"Quiche me and marry me in church, since we cantaloupe!"
Elijah is giddy with the old routine.
"Orange juice kidding?" Danny gasps.
"I will milk this for what it's worth."
"You can't be cereal."
"I can sense you're waffling..."
Danny looks up triumphantly. "There aren't any waffles on the menu! You lose!"
Elijah is surprised by how abruptly disappointed he is. That's not the point, he thinks.
He turns away. Danny pauses for a second watching him, not knowing what he's done.
---


Elijah watches the chair disappear around the corner and immediately feels loss.
He can't believe that you can meet a person in this way and then lose touch with them forever.
He could check all the hotels in Venice and look for a Greg and an Isabel, but he knows he won't.
He wants to, though. Because he wants to believe in sudden fate.

Dash & Lily's book of dares - Levithan & Cohn.

Some month ago I read this book. I love both Levithan(best young adult writer in our time!) and Cohn as writers and when they put their heads together they're even better. The Christmas in New York,the dares, Dash's yogurt addiction, that they spend much time at Stand and all that Levithan & Cohn write about is just genius.

I got remained about this book when I read a Swedish blog about it and also reminded about a quote in that book that I loved and laughed about way to long about in a train.

"You were in Sweden?" Boomer asked.

"No," I said. "The trip got called off at the last minute. Because of political the unrest."

"In Sweden?" Priya seemed skeptical.

"Yeah-isn't it strange how the Times isn't covering it? Half the country's on strike because of that thing the crown prince said about Pippi Longstocking, Which means no meatballs for Christmas, if you know what I mean."

"That's so sad!" Boomer said.”