guess this means i’ll be some sort of french bulldog instagram account aficionado / recluse … brb gettin’ vvv excited about my srsly promising future. oh, wassup dog ppl?
Posts tagged quoted
i’m a bug
is my breakfast
along with tea yeah
i’m a bug
i got a stinger
so do you, baby
let’s wing it.
interviewer: do you ever get bored?
werner herzog: no, never. the word is not even in my vocabulary. i seem to scare and astonish my wife by being capable of standing staring out of the window for days at a time, even when there is nothing happening out there. i may look catatonic, but not so inside. there might be storms raging inside. i think it was wittgenstein who talked about being inside a house and seeing a figure outside strangely flailing about. from inside you cannot see what storms are raging out there, so you find the figure funny.
some people make us feel more human and some people make us feel less human and that is a fact as much as gravity is a fact and maybe there are ways to prove it, but the proof of it matters less that the existence of it—how a stranger can show up and look at you and make you make more sense to yourself and the world, even if that sense is extremely fragile and only comes around occasionally and is prone to wander or fade—what matters is that sometimes sense is made between two people and i don’t know if it’s random or there is any kind of order to it, what combinations of people work the best and why and how do we find these people and how do we keep these people around, and i don’t know if it’s chaos or not chaos but it feels like chaos to me so i suppose it is.
miserable, darling, as usual.
hello, pre-holiday short week.
bracing myself for the vvv busy.
hoping some answers will follow.
drinking coffee at mcdonald’s
out of a paper cup
is almost more victory than we can
nov. 15, 1971: “it’s that time of year, when ethnic society, homesick for its native accents, gets together to whoop it up,” reported the times … “pepe, as he is called, not only produced a sumptuous buffet, but he also emerged as a superb flamenco dancer. at 2 o’clock in the morning, after having served a breakfast of churros (ropes of cruller-like fried dough) and hot chocolate, pepe danced to the guitars and mandolins, losing his white chef’s toque as he whirled.
may we all lose a toque as we whirl.
“more and more i really believe that doing our best isn’t about loving unconditionally but about just saying something truthful. and letting the other person have the rare advantage of knowing what we’re feeling uncloaked, even if it doesn’t make sense, even if the feelings are confused, even if there are conditions. because making things seem uncomplex, making love seem easy and unconditional is just another deception we sweet-talk ourselves into, with all the should-ing that never lasts.
so there i was on the subway, picking feverish fights in my head with some stranger’s self-help book. and feeling like we’re all missing a better point here. a point not about love or conditions but about something simpler. about trying to be good and kind and patient with each other and knowing that there are always conditions, that we’ve all got our knots and bends in our brains, and holes in our hearts.”
these two paragraphs,
especially that last part
on being kind, having knots.
that’s where i’m keeping things.
for a while.
there’s only one rule
that i know of, babies –
“god damn it,
you’ve got to be kind.”
ps – did you get your tickets? to the cloud show?
would be a choice twitter bio.
u feel, moody ghost?
how i think about you,
how i hope you think about me.
sometimes i can’t crack my own code.
bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
but to be young was very heaven.
let me give you some advice:
try to approach things
without preconceived ideas,
without supposing you already know
everything there is to know about them.
get that trick down and you’ll be surprised
at what’s really all around you.
your iphone pocket-called me the other day.
you were walking.
i could hear your legs moving.
i was in your pants, after all, with the phone.
swip swip. swip swip. swip swip.
very rhythmic. soothing.
i listened in for a while.
i was hoping for a scrap of inappropriate conversation.
i like to overhear things that hurt me.
i got nothing.
you were just going somewhere.
we are all frazzled and unruly, you and me. we are desperate and wistful and restless and funny and frayed at the edges. we can worry that we’re doing it all wrong, we can long for central air or true love or a view of the ocean, and that’s just part of the fucking clown show. we can be ingrates and role models, we can be flinchy and heroic, we can be courageous and also melancholy. there is nothing wrong with feeling unsafe and uncertain. there is nothing wrong with addled, misguided parenting, or self-involved rambling. i give you permission, my friend, to continue on this twisted, sweet path of suffering and satisfaction and distraction. i give you my blessing, my partner in failing at everything. i am witness to your grace and your faltering. i give you my undying love, as you struggle and stutter and the sun falls from the sky.
when the earth stops spinning, we will panic. there is no avoiding it. we’ll be crying and shaking, just like that woman at the side of the road, wondering if we did it the right way. we’ll wonder if we failed ourselves, or failed each other, if we were a big disappointment, in the end.
please remember, we were not a disappointment. not at all, not even close. we were gorgeous and strong, you and me. we were terrible and troubled and utterly divine.
(1) in october, i bought a block of 20 classes which cost exactly one million dollars. now i go like three times a week. over a year this works out to all the money i can imagine in my brain in one go.
(2) some clothes have a skull on them. it looks like badassery that roller derby girls would be hyped on. and everybody knows roller derby girls are depressing as fuck.
(3) nothing beats soulcycle for dumbing all the way out or re-calibrating a mood in less than an hour which is reassuring since i typically wake up in a panic that’s candy-coated with a low-grade rage.
(4) they also sell you water for $2 but i bring my own because they can fuck themselves straight to hell if they think they’re draining any more goddamned money from me.
(5) most of the instructors are pretty good but i avoid all the ones who like mashups because they’re disgusting monsters who need to pull it together.
(6) you will suck really hard the first five times you go and then you get better. between time one and three you get a lot better while remaining in the suck category … mostly, it’s hard to follow along while you want to barf out of your eye ducts.
(7) soulcycle feels gross, is gross and i’m grateful to have found it.
“ … get up, walk to a plant store, and pick out a plant you really like. take it home and set it by the window, and water it every single morning while you’re waiting for your coffee to be done. you are a regular pretty lady living a regular life, and this is the very beginning of your story. stay open to the world around you. pay attention to people who aren’t bullet-proof brands. give some time to those who make you work a little harder to see them clearly, to let them in. you are raw potential, but you’ll only stay golden if you give up on glory and show the world your true goofy, unwashed, brutal, brilliant, opinionated, vulnerable self. make them work harder for it. and if they’re not offering you the deal you want, be prepared to walk.”
how many times
we let them go,
they come back.
the words that matter