She saw the day.
A bird looked at her straight in the eyes. “I am alone,” she whispered.
“I am alive.” She entered the room. The mirror too is a window.
If I jump from it I will fall into my arms.” —Yannis Ritsos, Morning. trans. Nikos Strangos (via grammatolatry)
- I left work at midnight. I was thirsty.
- The cashier at CVS told me my 6 pack of limonata was ringing up as $1000 dollars. He found this “crazy.” It took at least 15 minutes for him to figure it out. I did some passive aggressive sighing, but not loudly.
- I waited on the hot platform for 40 minutes before my train arrived. There was a broken track at 59th st. Trains were rerouted.
- Creepy old guy on the subway was creepy and kept giggling maniacally so that I couldn’t concentrate on my book.
- A lady on the subway was rude to me. I stood up on principle, despite my tired feet, because I didn’t want to sit beside her.
- When I got home, I had to murder a very giant bug. I was depressed.
- Now I am drinking wine and googling things like “jalapeno margarita nyc” and “how old is Ted Danson” instead of GOING TO BED like I really fucking should
With what or whom? I need details, anonymous!
Thank you so much! I love you, too. Also, I take a strange delight in having my writing characterized as morose.
Everyone should read Chelsea’s blog, and if you’re not convinced just look at this right here.
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.” —Dorianne Laux, Antilamentation (via grammatolatry)
(I shudder to think how easily I could create the content for an entire blog with this title.)
Gull Wing Dress from Anthropologie
Sorbet cups and spoons from Crate and Barrel
This Kate Spade dress in black (which the internet does not seem to have a picture of), via their recent sample sale.
This Don Draper quote print from JustinVG.
Popsicle molds from Crate and Barrel.
Blood is the New Black Metal Bears Tank Top from Urban Outfitters.
It’s starting to be that kind of sticky hot that makes my hands feel dirty even right after I’ve washed them. My body feels like the opposite of the word lithe. I keep losing things. I am wide and unwieldy and full of mistakes. I don’t know what to do with my body that wears my clothes like the sturdy trunk of a tree wears its branches.
The other night I walked home barefoot from the subway, heels in hand. It felt good and not even disgusting. It wasn’t that my shoes were hurting that much, but that I couldn’t bear to move so slowly anymore. I felt nine years old again for a block and a half. I felt hot and almost free, except for my dress, which was too short and too tight with falling down straps. Dear god, what a relief to be naked and alone at last.
These days I feel unlovely, and staircases look daunting. I cringe at the thought of putting on another pair of black tights for work. They seem disrespectful to the sunshine. A slap in summer’s face. I’ve been scowling at mirrors and into refrigerators and at the phone.
I’ve really got to get an air conditioner. What happened to spring and where are all of these bruises coming from?
That’s ok. Maybe you just haven’t needed all of yourself yet.
This comment was in response to this post. (I’ve been awful at keeping up with my ask box lately.)
I think waiting for something better or more in line with your (changing) interests is important. Patience is important. But it’s also important to nourish that discontent to a healthy glow. Being discontent, and recognizing it, is sometimes the push you need to make changes in your life.
One of these days, we’ll figure it out.
Hi, Jessica! I lived in Fayetteville, NY, a small town outside of Syracuse.
Thanks for your nice comments on the blog!
Thanks. I think a lot of people share this struggle to make sense out of their lives. We are taught from such an early age that we can and will be anything we want to be. It can be daunting to compare what we are with what we once thought we wanted.
I had to google this quote. It’s from Wuthering Heights. I’m not sure why someone sent it to me anonymously, but I think it’s kind of awesome that they did.
Thank you, supercon!
Awesome! Thanks for the tip. I will still probably end up buying them because every craft I make looks like the misshapen artwork of a four year old child.
Thanks! Obviously, I’m going to need it.
I haven’t, but I’m posting this so I’ll remember to look it up on Amazon. Thanks for the recommendation!