February 2012
91 posts
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What Lot's Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn't a... →
Do you remember when we met in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless, and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing you, when we were young, and blushed with youth like bruised fruit. Did we care then what our neighbors did in the dark?
When our first daughter was born on the River Jordan, when our second cracked her pink head from my body like a promise, did we worry what our...
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“I don’t necessarily agree with everything that I say.”
– Marshall McLuhan (via misswallflower)
Something I discover very often when I’m delivering a presentation or writing an essay ;_; #litmajorwoes
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writeaboutlove- replied to your post: This guy whom everyone in my college seems to like…
I am glad you commented. It was super offensive and someone needed to call him out
❤ Thank God for friends like you and @braided.
Did you see his reply? I can’t believe he thinks that anyone would buy his ridiculous defense that the picture was taken with the singular purpose of illuminating...
This guy whom everyone in my college seems to like is so fucked up.
So basically he and his lovely clique engaged in a ‘friendly battle’ of sorts on the college’s Facebook page to, I don’t know, let everyone know just how popular they are and he made some really fucking offensive comments. And then he attempted a really feeble and transparent defense, which bothers me...
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I don’t know why I’m always overwhelmed by this feeling of inadequacy and of not being good enough. The 笙 guest player finally came today and my god, he is so fucking good and his vibrato was just so fucking perfect I felt like ripping my diaphragm out and shrinking into myself for that two hours. I feel so disgusted with myself. Why am I always so mediocre at whatever I do?
一无所有的人怎么能体会知足常乐的滋味？
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Daphne Gottlieb, "Why Things Burn" →
My fire-eating career came to an end when I could no longer tell when to spit and when to swallow. Last night in Amsterdam, 1,000 tulips burned to death. I have an alibi. When I walked by your garden, your hand grenades were in bloom. You caught me playing loves me, loves me not, metal pins between my teeth. I forget the difference between seduction and arson, ignition and cognition. I am a girl...
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“In a world of disorder and disaster and fraud, sometimes only beauty can be...”
– Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
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I really can’t picture anyone at all having a crush on me. I can’t picture anyone daydreaming about me. I can’t picture someone thinking about me when they’re lay in bed before they fall asleep. I can’t picture anyone telling their friends about me. I can’t picture anyone getting butterflies because I hugged them, or even just because I made eye contact with them. I can’t picture someone smiling...
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I guess in some ways, you grew up faster and earlier than I did.
Explains why I’m always stranded, huh.
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I feel so alone on a Friday night Can you make it feel like home If I tell you you’re mine It’s like I told you, honey