No Great Illusion

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My writing here.

Send me a letter: nogreatillusion [at] gmail [dot] com

“If you’re feeling small today I dare you to sit up straighter, look someone who scares you directly in the eye, take up room at the dinner table, make yourself bigger, when ‘sorry’ laps at the back of your tongue, tries to pick up after you, remind yourself that your existence doesn’t demand an apology, that you are allowed to make mess and take up space, do not be afraid to expand. Every single goddamn minute. Expand, expand, expand”

—   Femme Fatale (x)

(Source: excercisebook, via colporteur)

the-exercist:

Watermelon Mint Salad from Katie Fresca:


1 head romaine
2 cups watermelon cubed
1 bunch mint
1/2 avocado
1 tbsp tahini
2 tbsp fresh squeezed lime
pinch sea salt

Chop romaine and place in a bowl. Cube watermelon and chiffonade the mint, set aside. 

Blend 1/4 avocado, tahini, lime juice, sea salt and add water as needed to create a creamy dressing. 

Combine the dressing with romaine and toss well. Add remaining ingredients and toss. Top with the other 1/4 avocado and sprinkle with sesame seeds. 

the-exercist:

Watermelon Mint Salad from Katie Fresca:

  • 1 head romaine
  • 2 cups watermelon cubed
  • 1 bunch mint
  • 1/2 avocado
  • 1 tbsp tahini
  • 2 tbsp fresh squeezed lime
  • pinch sea salt
Chop romaine and place in a bowl. Cube watermelon and chiffonade the mint, set aside. 
Blend 1/4 avocado, tahini, lime juice, sea salt and add water as needed to create a creamy dressing. 
Combine the dressing with romaine and toss well. Add remaining ingredients and toss. Top with the other 1/4 avocado and sprinkle with sesame seeds. 

(via sigh-twombly)

“Often a man wishes to be alone and a girl wishes to be alone too and if they love each other they are jealous of that in each other, but I can truly say we never felt that. We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others. It has only happened to me like that once.”

—   Ernest Hemingway, from A Farewell To Arms (via violentwavesofemotion)
csebastian:

L’Officiel Turkey, July 2014 (+) photographer: Olgaç Bozalp Ava Smith

csebastian:

L’Officiel Turkey, July 2014 (+)
photographer: Olgaç Bozalp
Ava Smith

“I’ve got a
lot of good
ideas but not
one that
will get me
through
August.”

—   Eileen Myles (via wordsfirst)

(via kdecember)

birdasaurus:

Tomato Jam

“I think living in New York City is an endless cycle of feeling like it’s defeated you, like you’re nothing, and feeling like you’ve made it, you’ve triumphed. And you can’t feel either for too long before the other comes back again.”

—   Mal of America:  
calm-mysoul:

(via An Eclectic & Cool South Austin Bachelor Bungalow — House Tour | Apartment Therapy)

“For God’s sake, don’t think about it, don’t dwell on it, don’t allow yourself to fully know how terribly out of control your life is.”

—   Rufi Thorpe, The Girls from Corona del Mar (via mar-see-ah)
foodffs:

Boozy Margarita Lime Cake

“The thing I love most about reading poetry and also writing it is that there’s this sense that maybe there is an answer and yet we know on some level that the answer is our own, that we project and inject those secrets and mysteries and answers in any text. Like religion. Like life. Poetry is ours and not ours.”

—   Lisa Marie Basile, interviewed by Amelia Shroyer for Huffington Post (via bostonpoetryslam)
Coral sundress/lilac bra strap look.
azurea:

Chestnut tree in blossom (c.1887) by Vincent van Gogh.

azurea:

Chestnut tree in blossom (c.1887) by Vincent van Gogh.

(via lightsunderdoorways)

“You are not free until you have no need to impress anybody.”

—   Joyce Meyer (via maddierose)

(Source: onlinecounsellingcollege, via maddierose)

Ben and I mop the floor, using the bathtub for a bucket. We fill it a few inches high, stirring in the Murphy Oil Soap. I play Billy Joel on the portable speaker and my heart aches, a deep nostalgic ache. The nostalgia is for my childhood, Billy Joel playing over my dad’s big old speakers, Mom shooing us out of the piney-clean kitchen, and also a sort of nostalgia in advance for this life we have right now - these are the days to hold onto, ‘cause we won’t although we’ll want to - as I imagine myself in the next phase of my life, whatever that will be, trying to remember this time. 

I don’t want to forget this, Ben and me, slow dancing, teasing, the way I run my hands over his freshly trimmed beard and tell him it’s the perfect length, don’t grow another centimeter, stay like this, like this. I nap on top of the duvet, comforted knowing he’s nearby in the living room, cheering aloud over a soccer game, while here in the bedroom, soft piano music plinks out a lullaby like rain on a lake.

Next weekend we are going on a short hiking and camping trip with my dad. I already have the packing list. I can’t wait to show him how the woods unfurls itself for you as you climb deep into its belly, how at the end of a long day it swaddles you in quiet. We will make a fire, the 3 of us, and cook hotdogs and crack jokes. I have never invited another boy into my life like this. Growing up, hiking trips were almost a sacred thing between my dad and me. But there was no part of me that hesitated in inviting Ben.  No need for pause at all.

I love him. I want to show him everything that means something to me.