January 2012
7 posts
abba - S.O.S.
Anonymous asked: You seem to be into the subculture that happens to be; hipster. As a hipster, have you been in love?
I think I am close to being
a. past the age of opinions
b. beyond judgment
c. sheepishless
d. all of the above
does this mean that I am finally
a. enlightened
b. deadened
c. adult
d. none of the above
December 2011
10 posts
one last resolution
tonight, dress:
simple and comfy, yet elegant.
(thank you)
Sometimes I think of the drip drops in my sinks as wagging tails, or footsteps.
Alone is something cities can make you long for, or die of.
ryan adams, rescue blues
Signs of life show up in strange places, like the counter of the neighborhood grocer, where I’ve gone to get a chicken quite a few times this week, and never before.
You go without knowing you’ll get one. They are the juiciest, and my neighbors know. When they’re gone, they’re gone. The doors close at eight sharp. The cashier slash chicken handler smiles through the bad news.
But when they are...
November 2011
13 posts
When I was twelve I met a couple that had recently fallen in love. They met on the street in Los Angeles, where he lived, and then went to where she lived: her flats in London and in Amsterdam. She spoke a lot of independence. They brought me a wooden box of chocolates and outside of books and movies, the two of them were the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.
They shaped my early ideas of...
Here is his moral framework: in the morning, shoes, a swim and coffee; then until dinner, shoes, calisthenics and conversation; at two o’clock, shoes, dinner and wine; at five o’clock, a swim, tea and wine; after that, Vint and slander; at ten o’clock, supper and wine; and after midnight, dreams and la femme. His existence is locked into this narrow program like an egg in its...
What will you hold onto? I already feel things slipping. My dad holds onto music, in the basement, with his vodka on the rocks. My nana holds onto her husband. Will I hold onto New York, this job, that small black sample sale dress? At least one of its nights. Or what comes next. Will I hold on to nothing yet.
Tabby lived with her mother and father in a two-bedroom cape, on the edge of a nice town. She was at that age. The one of eavesdropping at the top of the staircase, in her case on Regan and Glenn.
“The mood swings have to stop Rey. They have to stop.”
Tabby believed that Rey and Glenn rehearsed every evening, for the play they would later star in together. It was an only child...
My hair would lose its original color but most color could continue to be replaced by leaving the gray around the face and twice a year letting Johanna at Bumble and bumble highlight the rest. I would recognize that the models I encountered on these semiannual visits to the color room at Bumble and bumble were significantly younger than I was, but since these models I encountered on my semiannual...
I was wondering where I might go to get the tiny piece of desk removed from my right thumb. I was wondering if a tiny moving man might do it. I think I might know the man. I often see him moving various items of similar sizes around my apartment. I wonder if he could call his red biting brother, and if he could remove the tiny piece of furniture from my right thumb. It’s a helpless little place on...
October 2011
7 posts
“I’m one of those people that you have to keep your eye on or I’ll wander off...”
– Jack White (via slychedelic)
“Every letter was a love letter.”
– Eugenides, The Marriage Plot
September 2011
5 posts
A Masochistic Woman
Linette loved the look and taste of apples but hated the bite and the sound of them. They felt on her teeth like chalk on a blackboard. She went wince grin wince grin wince, the whole way through. While she chewed she wondered things like: When are we our ripest? How long have I been rotten? Who can tell? Those who touch me? Does he feel it, do his teeth?
My mind, body and soul slow down in the summer and since it’s still iced coffee season, there is still nothing brewing in me. I read that Friday is the start of fall. Things will start then. I have tried to start them earlier. But my outer self just drags the inner around, on the ground, by the hand, like a beat up teddy bear. The innards aren’t awake yet.
Rushing in from the heat to the...
“Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of...”
– John Keats (via sorakeem)
August 2011
11 posts
Such passion, the passion of creative contemplation, Tolstoy constantly carried with him. It was precisely in its light that he saw everything in its pristine freshness, in a new way, as if for the first time. The authenticity of what he saw differs so much from what we are used to that it may appear strange to us. But Tolstoy was not seeking that strangeness, was not pursuing it as a goal, still...
5 tags
3 tags
Every evening, upon walking through the front door, Mr. Mooples emptied his pockets onto the same corner of the kitchen table. It was his release, whether he knew it or not. Day is done, gone the sun, he sang to himself. All is well, safely, rest, whispered Mrs. Mooples, often times to the pot of vegetables boiling beneath her.
She knew it. She didn’t ask about the days. She saved every receipt...
Last summer I chased sunsets. I went to them whenever I could. I looked, and listened closely. Ten natural minutes can change your day.
The summer before last I lived with my grandmother. That summer my grandmother was my sunset. I went to her after work. I listened and looked.
Summer 2011, I have a gentleman sunset. He is always there. Even when it’s cloudy, he’s there. Sometimes I rush...
1 tag
hey, fall →
fall, the colors the feel of the air, makes me want to read, record, roadtrip, run, recipe, dress with the ardor of a girl with a crush on the quarterback, sip slowly, wake early and breathe, breathe, breathe. in all the upstate halloweens, cross country races, crock pot cooking, new apartments, neighborhoods, faces, boots, tights, bonfires of autumns i’ve known. born in the last week of august....
1 tag
