i surrender.


.

dear, dear internet,
you’ve shown me soo much (too much?)
i just can’t quit you.

bread, books.


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i’m really starving
to read something (anything).
recommendations?

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butts, not regrets.


Graustark
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I downloaded Das Racist’s Sit Down, Man mixtape yesterday (for freezies – hooray!) and now I’m officially freaking out.  Baby.  Babe.  Babe!  It’s ..S..O…..G..O..O..D.. that listening to it is kinda like going on a first date where you don’t spend any money, say “poop” multiple times throughout the evening, and still seem sexy enough to merit a killer make out session on a cement turtle in the section 8 playground right behind your apartment (this may or may not be inspired by actual events in Amy’s life).  Not to mention, their mixtape includes a superhot remix of The Very Best’s “Julia.”  Ugh, I die.
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butt-seriously.
do your ipod a solid
and download this shit.

oooo awww autumn.


Fall Accessories 2010.
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not ready to leave
my solo summer behind
(but fall looks damn fine).

talkin’ bout my generation.


Documenting the Life of 20-Somethings. The New York Times Magazine
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According to The New York Times Magazine, this is a snapshot of what it feels like to live through your 20s in the 2010s. Personally, I just skimmed Robin Henig’s accompanying article on “emerging adulthood” because it was, like, 10 electronic pages on why my generation is just a bunch of babies.  Boo!  Old news.  (Molly and I figured this out in 2005).  But the editor’s footnote f-ing rules:
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Robin Marantz Henig is a contributing writer. Her last article for the magazine was about anxiety.
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Damn, this bird knows me.
No, like, she really knows me.
Also, everyone poops.

on the verizon.


.

direct dials down.
but seriously, who cares?
dot com eats ‘em all.

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obama & me, embracing the rut.


Obama’s Rut-Splosion. Adeline Affre
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I decided this afternoon, amidst the fabulous company of my best friend Dan, that although being in a rut sucks ass on the surface, it’s actually kinda great because it means your headspace is sputtering / flailing and a holycrapthatfeltgood rut-splosion is on its way. Seriously. Rutting has always brought significant check pluses (hardruns, goodlaughs, goodcrys, confrontations, ruminations, much needed vacations) into my life while non-rutting has just offered up a totally inactive (albeit tasty) cupcake front-loaded with fear frosting of the inevitable downswing to come.  So, in case you were wondering:
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yeah, i’m in a rut.
a really big fucking rut.
but it’s awesome – you?

damn your love, damn your lies.


Florence & the Machine at Reading, 2008. Andy Sheppard
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I decided a long time ago that if I ever found myself about to head into battle, the intro from Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain” would be essential to my getting pumped up and angry enough to hold my own during that pivotal moment in my life. While surfing for a download of the track this morning, I stumbled upon a video of Florence and the Machine’s kickass cover that she and her band performed back in June at the 2010 Glastonbury Festival.  Ooooh no they didn’t! (yeah, yeah they did)
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yo yo yo, flo-ro!
why you gotta blow my mind?
now it’s fighting time.

totes.


Typographic. Alphabet Bags
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One of my absolute favorite under-the-radar lifemoments used to be when someone would call my name out loud.  In high school, just one hallway holler of  “MARSH!” and suddenly my whole head space was prepped, cleaned, and ready to host the world’s most epic sleepover.  In college, however, my friends and acquaintances seemed to prefer the rumblings of a really good full name, so my instant  mood elevator sounded a lot more like “Ehhhhhhmeeeeee MARSH!”  Nowadays though, living in a place full of strange and unfamiliar nobodies and somebodies, my goodtimes rarely originate in this way.  Of course there’s the occasional, ohmygodwhatareyoudoinghere, but actually recognizing a passing streetface and yelling his or her name out loud at full volume in the middle of the city seems to just thoroughly exceed almost everyone’s threshold for awkward terror (mine included). That’s why these made my day:
.
they’re kind of like those
shoutouts from my familiar.
totes! right back at ya.