and at the end of the night, he tiptoed his confidence into the corner booth. 

đź‘€ (at Saltie)

đź‘€ (at Saltie)

identity crisis scribbles

identity crisis scribbles


as you unzip your trousers
i want to cry.


in the lonely woods:
our fingers intertwined,
the twigs clasped
our flesh.

even in nature’s
derelicts moments
i shifted my hip
and leaned on you.

Being born a woman is an awful tragedy. Yes, my consuming desire to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, bar room regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yet, God, I want to talk to everybody I can as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.
I love this.

I love this.

A country where flowers are priced so as to make them a luxury has yet to learn the first principles of civilization.
— Chinese Proverb (via missfolly)


  1. Nicholas Sanbor: It’s a bummer of a song. But eventually redemptive.
  2. Amelia Randall Meath: You fall in love for the first time… it’s like coming up for air. And all of a sudden you’re like, “Oh my god! Life is like this!” Then you totally fuck that one up. And then you fall in love again… and it’s the same exact feeling again. You’re like, “I feel euphoric, but I know this feeling of euphoria.”
  3. NS: The idea that the specialness…
  4. ARM: … Isn’t special.
  5. NS: It’s replicable. You know, when you first feel that, that’s a really upsetting thing to realize. But then, that actually is a beautiful loop to be in. That we can make this happen over and over again — that our lives are this emotional loop in progression.
  6. ARM: And then you understand that you can keep on working on making a perfect loop.

You don’t know anyone at the party, so you don’t want to go. You don’t like cottage cheese, so you haven’t eaten it in years. This is your choice, of course, but don’t kid yourself: it’s also the flinch.

Your personality is not set in stone. You may think a morning coffee is the most enjoyable thing in the world, but it’s really just a habit. Thirty days without it, and you would be fine. You think you have a soul mate, but in fact you could have had any number of spouses. You would have evolved differently, but been just as happy.

You can change what you want about yourself at any time. You see yourself as someone who can’t write or play an instrument, who gives in to temptation or makes bad decisions, but that’s really not you. It’s not ingrained. It’s not your personality. Your personality is something else, something deeper than just preferences, and these details on the surface, you can change anytime you like.

If it is useful to do so, you must abandon your identity and start again. Sometimes, it’s the only way.

Set fire to your old self. It’s not needed here. It’s too busy shopping, gossiping about others, and watching days go by and asking why you haven’t gotten as far as you’d like. This old self will die and be forgotten by all but family, and replaced by someone who makes a difference.

Your new self is not like that. Your new self is the Great Chicago Fire—overwhelming, overpowering, and destroying everything that isn’t necessary.

— Julien Smith (via hellojudithc)

after the night was over,
the next morning
at dawn, we held each other.

the room smelled like butter.

Each stage of life greatly pleases us, but unfortunately not while we are in it. The young are eager to be adults, adults look forward to being retired, the retired envy youth. Daters crave marital stability, the married miss the thrill of dating. College students and graduates would swap places. We possess the pieces of a happy life, too bad we cherish them out of sequence.
Brian Jay Stanley, We Love Our Life in the Wrong Order (via missfolly)
Diana Vreeland reminds me entirely of my Grandmother. Or Vice Versa.

I’m convinced they were the same person. In sartorial clairvoyance, and in boisterous personality.