March 2012
36 posts
1 tag
“Whatever you get paid attention for is never what you think is most important...”
– David Foster Wallace
1 tag
I’m disgusting, in so many ways. Why do people tolerate me? I swear I have mental leprosy or something.
And look. I don’t care about being pretty and hot and desired and stuff. I mean I do, but as far as my list of things I think about it’s somewhere between vegetarianism and chess strategies. But still, it sucks to not be those things. Maybe I’d be easier if I had a...
2 tags
Nobody feels right anymore. I just need to leave. The effort I’m exerting to care about people halfway isn’t worth anything at all, it’s all a waste and I want to know why I’m still doing it, I shouldn’t, I don’t want to be doing it, but I am. I just want to be something further than gone, all my elastic relationships snapped like rubber bands and lying in piles...
February 2012
43 posts
2 tags
I know it’s not supposed to change my view of you, and I don’t want it to, because you don’t need pity and all, or maybe you just don’t want it, I could see you with your clawing eyes right after you told me, daring me to look at you differently, even slightly. And I don’t want to, because you’re obviously still the same person…but it’s fucking hard,...
findingsomewhere —> private-transit
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So many people are so boring. I know I expect too much, but still, it never stops being disappointing.
1 tag
I miss the girl who lingered in doorways, who was afraid to start a song unless others had already begun. She wore perfume on her wrists even though it gave her hives and she was the last anybody voice left in the world, and her spirit still just reads and runs.
3 tags
1.
“You’re very much all kinds of beautiful.”
I didn’t believe it, but I said thank you, thank you very much sir.
2.
There was (is) a man, and he had (has) button eyes and a smile that could (can) crack ice. He had cold hands, and he would run them up and down my bare legs and he would do it while the TV was still on. I remember listening to Obama when he was still a senator speak about the...
reading>writing (at the correct moment, anyway)
nickmiller:
For me, the journey of trying to write something that’s good has been filled with agonizing moments, so many that I’ve often wondered why I keep pursuing this dream; but it’s during those rare moments when I’m in it, truly in it, banging away at the laptop keys, chasing a fresh idea, bobbing my head as if I were a fucking concert pianist playing in front of a large crowd—all while...
City of Blinding Lights by U2 (never fails to make...
2 tags
Don’t etch a sweet little story between your legs, love. The doctors won’t like it. They won’t like it at all. But then, the doctors never like anything that’s fun. Your heart rate is down to 40 beats a minute—I hope you know that you’ve reached that point now, my little anomaly. People have stopped looking at your baby bird legs with jealousy and now see...
“No one could blame American women here if they all suddenly decided to leave the...”
– John Oliver on American contraception debates, The Bugle
3 tags
Hi Monday. How are you? I’m not well, Monday. This whole thing, it’s not going well. It overwhelms me too often and too much. This cast-iron world I live in, it does its job and more, Monday. It locks me up and I still find myself admiring the metal twists of the flowers on the gate. I know what I should do. You want me to be brave, or something. Because bravery’s always the...
sleepingtigers:
I miss writing.
Translated:
I miss myself.
1 tag
“…That the cliche ‘I don’t know who I am’ unfortunately turns out to be...”
– David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest
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My parents are nice people. I can say this in a completely detached way, because we don’t know each other at all.
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High Windows, by Philip Larkin
When I see a couple of kids And guess he’s fucking her and she’s Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives— Bonds and gestures pushed to one side Like an outdated combine harvester, And everyone young going down the long slide To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if Anyone looked at me, forty years back, And...
“At that moment I was sure. That I belonged in my skin. That my organs were mine...”
– Dave Eggers
I’m good at being a mammal, but I’m bad at being a person.
1 tag
“We knew the pain of winter wind rushing up your skirt, and the ache of keeping...”
– Jeffrey Eugenides, The Virgin Suicides
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I am sporadic at best, haywire, at worst.
It’s a Monday. I should still be asleep. Instead, I am driving. The sun’s already up and it smells like quiet morning. I’m driving through these fields, some with cracked wooden fences, some without. No one else is around. Just cows, horses. It’s like I’m the only person in the world. The sunlight is digging into my skin, and...
1 tag
I am quite fond of The Beetles. The song Imagine by Paul McCartney is such an inspiration to me. The four Beetles, John Lennon, Ringo Starr, Paul McCartney, and Mick Jagger will forever be my mentors; they taught me so much. When I find myself in times of trouble, I get by with a little help from my friends. All you need is love <33
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A funny thing I’ve noticed: an author never seems to be dead until you’ve read absolutely everything they’ve written. It’s like, as long as you don’t know every word, they’re still alive, still creating. I feel like novels are the only genre that works for; if someone’s dead but you haven’t seen all of their movies they don’t seem any less...
4 tags
It hits like a ton of bricks, or a hurricane. I think that’s a better comparison,
a storm, because most of the time you know when it’s coming. You can feel it in your bones, you’re like an old woman, the arthritis in your knee acting up again.
You batten down the hatches, board the windows shut with plywood. Hold your breath and grab some blankets from the cupboard. Remind...
My I.Q. by Ani DiFranco
when I was four years old...
1 tag
“We are all dying to give our lives away to something, maybe. God or Satan,...”
– Hal Incandenza, from Infinite Jest
2 tags
images without real meaning
rich films of fug, blown out suburban minds vignettes on vaginas the air is thick with booze tonight and i am strong and the air is cold and if i was in paris i would climb the eiffel tower. what am i saying? wish i knew. but you can hear it too? i don’t believe in trendy coffee shops. i went to one once, and drank herbal tea that gave me food poisoning. i don’t understand—what...
1 tag
i have armor that i save for the cold and damp nights that are not cold or damp.
(swarming ugly words chaotic head someone put the lid back on you’ll find it fits on neatly just behind my right ear)
“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are...”
– Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
2 tags
Just woke up from this really, really realistic dream and now I’m having all these creepy, solipsistic thoughts and I should really just go back to sleep before my brain implodes
2 tags
Bukowski said ‘there are always too many people’
and I used to agree with him
but now, I think, maybe
there aren’t enough.
1 tag
The Dangling Conversation by Simon and Garfunkel