a lifetime of longing

My ears hear what others cannot hear; small faraway things people cannot normally see are visible to me. These senses are the fruits of a lifetime of longing, longing to be rescued, to be completed. Just as the skirt needs the wind to billow, I'm not formed by things that are of myself alone. I wear my father's belt tied around my mother's blouse, and shoes which are from my uncle. This is me. Just as a flower does not choose its color, we are not responsible for what we have come to be. Only once you realize this do you become free, and to become adult is to become free.

creative women are putting forth more complicated versions of femininity

The bigger the stretch or the farther away it is from you, the most pleasure you get in the attempt to reach for it and get yourself around it. I never want to do something that I've done before, and I never want to do something that I feel comfortable with...you can find the things that feel like a stretch for you and then push it even further...it's exciting that more women are writing because I think we're desperate to understand ourselves, and I think men want to understand their wives and their girlfriends and daughters and sisters better. I think these movies are starting to show something. Creative women are putting forth more complicated versions of femininity.


Brit Marling (via BlackBook)

ron fucking swason

I wanna get completely off the grid.

(...)

how are you gonna post photos of the dope food at restaurants you're at and all the cool places you're stutin' in?

food is for eating. places are for being. end of discussion.


in Parks and Recreation (S06E03)

my everyday life

or how my age and height never fail to amaze people.

instrutor de condução,
então, já acabaste o 12º ano?

eu,
já sou licenciada (...) há dois anos.

how i've been feeling lately

In Your Face by Katie So

Set my spirit free, Set my body free

I'm standing on a stage
Of fear and self-doubt
It's a hollow play
But they'll clap anyway

(...)

I'm living in an age
Whose name I don't know
Though the fear keeps me moving
Still my heart beats so slow

(...)

My body is a cage
We take what we're given
Just because you've forgotten
That don't mean you're forgiven

i'm quite normal until i go mad

Did you study poetry at all?

Hell no, I detest most poetry. Ancient, modern. I can’t read it, I can’t stomach it. I just stay away from all academic training. I try to stay away from poets. And short story writers. And novelists. I’d rather get drunk with a plumber. Or even a cop.


More Sublime, Charles Bukowski (via Beautiful Voices Project)

the light bulb swinging like a metronome

slipping away
disappear, disappear
tell nobody

the only thing is not to melt in the meanwhile

I don't know why we live - the gift of life comes to us from I don't know what source or for what purpose; but I believe we can go on living for the reason that (always of course up to a certain point) life is the most valuable thing we know anything about and it is therefore presumptively a great mistake to surrender it while there is any yet left in the cup.


Henry James: Selected Letters (via Letters of Note)