last night for dinner i had champagne and a hot pocket
i don’t know
∞ May 17, 2012 at 10:04pm
do you remember that one time a drug dealer came into my room and sold molly to this girl who was in my freshman lit class
do you remember that time he left and came back five minutes later and showed us his prison tattoo
(he gave me a bike a couple months ago, which was given to him by a pedophile)
(he is white and 5’3 and pretty nice (the drug dealer))
∞ April 26, 2012 at 09:25pm
i invented a game, it’s called cheerios hockey. it’s not exactly the same as hockey, because i use cheerios. also because i don’t know the rules of hockey. also instead of playing it with human beings i play it with my cat.
SPRING BREAK!
∞ April 04, 2012 at 12:53am
Reading List: Short Stories Spring 2012
Things I read recently that I liked (loved) that you might like also, if you are the type of person to like things. A couple of these were from my Fiction class this semester.
- “Stab” by Chris Adrian from A Better Angel
- “The Leading Man” by Aimee Bender from Willful Creatures
- “Mortal Kombat” by Kevin Wilson from Tunneling to the Center of the Earth
- “The Seagull Army Descends on Strong Beach” by Karen Russell from Tin House #41
- “Are You Comfortable?” by Elissa Schappell from Blueprints for Building Better Girls
- “The Isabel Fish” by Julie Orringer from How to Breathe Underwater
- “Make Believe” by Nicholas Montemorano from Tin House #31
- “Brides” by Aryn Kyle from Boys and Girls Like You and Me
∞ March 25, 2012 at 02:14pm
I DON’T HAVE ENOUGH MENTAL FORTITUDE OR CIGARETTES FOR THIS DAY HERE’S A COMIC
(via incandenza)
20
To My Twenties
How lucky that I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman—
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another—and water!
I’m sill very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X— N—, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy. What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how to best use it
You weren’t a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.
Kenneth Koch, from New Addresses
Do you have a minute? / And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
∞ March 08, 2012 at 06:36pm
“Cats’ famously reserved and withholding personalities naturally seduce us into paying closer attention to them.”
The New Republic’s Perry Stein on the science behind cats taking over the internet.
Joan Didion interviewed by Sheila Heti in The Believer
(via meaghano)
∞ February 25, 2012 at 09:01pm
“what is it called again? neutral milk container?”
—my mom
Mostly during large crowd-based events I am preoccupied: boys, or I’m hungry, but usually what I think about is what I should be feeling, a certain mass pathos, taut and rich, and why is it that I’m not. Tonight I felt jolted into myself, eyes wide and unblinking, the music tall and rattling in my chest— and even then I had to remind myself, over and over, not to miss anything, not to think about it.
∞ January 22, 2012 at 02:04am
I would vanish on the mainland, dry up in that crush of cars and strangers, of flesh hidden inside metallic colors, the salt white of the sky over the interstate highway, the strange pink-and-white apartment complexes where mainlanders lived like cutlery in drawers.
Karen Russell, Swamplandia!
∞ December 30, 2011 at 09:37pm
The Submission: "In A Forest I Found A House" ›
Also, a thing, page 2.
∞ December 11, 2011 at 04:01pm
Often this semester —Monday mornings, most Wednesdays, Friday evening— I’d feel a certain pull, a trajectory on which to travel, single-mindedly, certainly; and the day with its long arms would be enough to make me do any which thing. I do my homework, I fasten a skirt, I’m stepping through doors to all different sorts of rooms. But a lot of the times things are like this: I’m lying on my bed, or there are emails to answer, or Billie Holiday’s in the background. The sun lazing through the slats and I watch the dust lift and settle, with a breath. All of the time now I feel nostalgic for the present, all of the time I know I’m not understanding any of it. Billie sings a note. My heart chips off in tiny pieces, with tiny cracks, bit by bit.
∞ December 11, 2011 at 03:37pm
