There’s this shitty thing that happens when you learn about the reality of racism, heterosexism and misogyny. You start to hear it from the mouths of your parents, grandparents, friends and siblings and you can’t ignore it anymore but you’ll see how many of them will ignore you when you speak out about it.
1:12 am 115,229 notes
My parents are arguing about lightbulbs. Loudly. Please let my life never become so tedious and boring and nitpicky
1:59 am 52,718 notes
the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
and nobody finds the
crawling in and out
the bone and the
for more than
— Alone with Everybody, Charles Bukowski
(It’s weird how I’ve gotten old enough to forget entire chunks of my life. I had this taped to my mirror for 2+ years and I completely forgot about that until now. Is my life just morphing into this series of experiences and routines that will be forgotten until I stumble across something one day and remember/reflect briefly? Ugh why I am having a crisis right now
In other news, my fourteen-year-old self was sort of morbid).
1:53 am 42 notes
I can’t sleep again tonight
and so my brain goes to all its indigo parts
The parts I cannot keep alive when I’m trying to
They squint and swallow in the daylight but
at night I catch them off-guard
There are bugs eating my hungry stomach
so I swallow a flashlight, switch it on,
and they recede
Little flecks that move to my head, maybe
I wish I had a tape recorder for my brain
I write poetry to fall asleep
I wake up and it’s gone, so gone
Most of the time it’s not worth it
But usually I wish I knew what I said,
what had made it enough, or okay, to sleep
Soul-mind loud and routine
It’s a little bit dumb
but I wish I could remember my source of comfort in that moment
right before I collapse to entities
other than mine
(The women with the soft ghost nails
combing my hair, checking for lice)
Look I don’t know who left the lights on in my head tonight
and don’t worry, I will complain to maintenance
what a waste of energy.
1:42 am 2 notes
When I try to write about sex, I think back to when I was just out of college and, handy with a makeup brush, took a job to make some extra money doing makeup on a gay-porn film set. On the second day, we filmed a three-way that took up most of the day. The actors struggled: one was hard, the others weren’t, then the others were and the first was not, and so on. After a few hours, the director sent us all out of the room and turned out the lights so the actors could work it out. This was before Viagra—you had to have an honest hard-on to shoot. We waited outside the dark room, the lights out, even the cameramen outside, waiting, until finally we heard the signal, and then the crew rushed back in to film. We turned on the lights.
The actors were made to pause, immediately. I had to touch them up.
They were panting, sweating like athletes. They’d rubbed off most of what I’d put on them. As they held their positions, I touched them up. I thought about how something had happened in the dark that we couldn’t see, an excitement that couldn’t be in the film. It was probably better than what we would film, more interesting.
It seems to me I am always in pursuit of that.”
— Alexander Chee, “Sex and Salter” excerpt from The Paris Review (2011)
3:55 am 6 notes
8:01 pm 5,412 notes
Puerto Rico is lovely, y’all. Even when I have to wake up at 5:45 a.m.
4:49 am 1 note
I’m trying to figure out if I’ve grown or changed at all over this break. I know I still have two and a half weeks, but it’s mostly over and I’m going to Puerto Rico on Saturday so I won’t have much time to think about this toward the actual end of break. I should have changed somehow. I should have made at least one major decision about what I plan on doing in the near future. Except I haven’t and I haven’t done anything that’s really improved myself and I just feel very pathetic. Even my self-destruction has been subpar lately. I just sit around and do nothing. I masturbate way too much. Masturbation is vaguely reminiscent of Doritos for me. Like, it’s good at the time, sort of?, but it’s also not actually good. I just end up feeling sort of gross. It’s not like a female-sexuality-self-loathing thing, it’s just like an I-could-be-doing-better-things-with-my-time thing. It’s not like I have this massive sex drive, it’s just this thing that I always seem to do.
I should draw or paint or learn to play the guitar. Why am I not dong any of these things? I genuinely want to. I genuinely want to be better as a human but I don’t do anything and it’s sort of disgusting.
5:27 pm 87,134 notes
— Anaïs Nin, from “The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1”
5:25 pm 3,782 notes
You know what I want, babe? Cool guys like you outta my life.
1:34 am 10 notes
3:27 am 687 notes