March 2012
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She sends me messages while I’m at work with the express purpose of distracting me. She writes about knitting in bed, wearing that cheap flowered dress I love. No underwear.
Yea, you do try. You’re going to keep that on until I say otherwise. I want another memory.
Carry on.
February 2012
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“‘Everything you’ve done is commendable,’ he says. ‘You did the right thing to go...”
– Fly me to the moon - from Ann Beattie’s “The Burning House” (via fictionz)
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"She was worth a stare. She was trouble.": I wish... →
californoir:
I wish you could put down the bottle and the pipe, because I miss you. You gave up on everyone and they walked away, but I stayed. Even when you thought I was the problem and hurt my feelings when I was so excited to see you. I read what you wrote and don’t understand, but you do what you want…
I sometimes think about this obvious fear regarding my attachment to people. It...
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I like it when you put your pale sea shell of a...
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“The idea of games without story makes me fear that this industry will rush down...”
– Sort of a debate about story and narrative in games, except anyone who argues that video games are not a story-telling medium is unclear on the definition of story.
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I’ve condensed more legit* writing into the period from January to now than at any previous time in the last five years and did you know it’s exhausting? It’s more of a drain on the mind than one might think, particularly when one wants to work. It’s driven by that distinct desire to be better than what is now, to improve and grow beyond current capabilities. I’ve...
“I’ve asked every girl I know and while it may be easier to Facebook, text, or...”
– From Hana: Polyamory and Erotica in New York City. (via quickienewyork)
It isn’t so much about a show of balls as an impatience for anything short of seeing what she’s wearing for myself.
(Alternatively: ‘who the fuck tweets at a girl?’).
Kara VanderBijl: opposite things →
cityography:
…
Most Icelanders try their hand at three or four careers in a lifetime. It’s not what they manage to accomplish; it is about what they experience. This seems like an exceptional way of life.
…
My spirit belongs in Iceland.
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“I don’t want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic! I try to give that to...”
– Blanche in A Streetcar Named Desire (via heylabodega)
I haven’t watched—or read—A Streetcar Named Desire because I know exactly how I’ll react to it.
Which means I ought to get to it soon and leverage the aggression.
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Pondering you, I think only of what I’m certain was the most wonderful cunt. The kind I will have spent hours enjoying to my mouth’s—and cock’s—delight. Would be nice to think of you with a soft and inviting bush, however. I can’t shake the thought of a clean shaven body and all the misguided effort it speaks of. Actions speak louder, do they not?
This is all...
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She has these chairs that look dusty as fuck and I tell her, “These are filthy,” to which she replies, “They’re my favorite chairs,” after which I propose buying new chairs and receive an eye stabbing the likes of which I haven’t received from a woman in a long, long time. I join her on the mattress with the dip in the middle and apologize for making fun of her...
How I Stopped Multitasking →
tetw:
by A.J. Jacobs
One man’s quest to go from manic multitasker to Zen unitasker in one month flat.
‘If I start to absentmindedly multitask, I’ll be the first to know. No secrets from myself. It has other benefits, too. It forces me to live a mindful life and help balance my emotions. For example, the other day I found myself saying, “I’m walking through Central Park. I’m in the...
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joandefers replied to your post: I’ve spent the last month investigating things…
Does “investigating things about” mean “internet stalking?”
Naturally.
I’m pretty good at it.
I’ve spent the last month investigating things about the girl who sparked the recent changes in my being. Every revelation has led me further down the obsessive rabbit hole of lies and somber truths about psychoses, manipulation, trust, freedom to choose, and my own unhealthy behavior. I’m torn between wanting to know everything and trying to let sleeping dogs lie. How does one reconcile the...
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“It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.”
– E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web
I was describing Charlotte to the girl-child and maybe started crying while doing so. (via amywhipple)
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Season of weak oranges and terrible plums.
The weight of mentorship is heaviest when the future is at stake. It stands to reason, then, that consideration of the future is the flaw, and one should focus on the present.
I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I want.
The obvious response is to be here now. I am proven, I might add, and leave it at that. Where do you go during a storm, after all? To shelter, and shelter is...
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blankpagesandinvisibleink replied to your photo: vicemag: All Tied Up In Love - A Richard Kern…
photoshop.
Mine won’t be.
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“Burnout isn’t as simple as extreme exhaustion. When you’re truly burnt out,...”
– burnout is real - Lifehacker (via nathanielstuart)
I’m at high risk. Here’s hoping a cooldown period keeps things flowing.
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The modern concept of career is strange, particularly the notion of spending years—decades—in the same place. How does one advance in the same company, with the same people, doing the same work over such a long period of time? At some point there has to be a wall of diminishing returns, and thus a reason to explore elsewhere. I’m sure some employers advance along with their...
I used to want to write stories for people. A gift, I thought. Something meaningful. The most honest expression I have besides the ‘I care’s and ‘I love you’s. Something that took effort, and required me to use my time for someone other than myself. The purity of creation for someone else.
Now I can’t bring myself to bother. I snapped in that sense and had to start...
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Ladybug, ladybug. I imagined you sitting up in bed. You felt more than you communicated. I thought more than I talked. I’d been talking all day, I’m done with it. The compromise was you come over tonight and suck my cock the way I’ve been dreaming about, then fall asleep with me. We’ll shower and warm the place up, I said. Kiss your shoulders, more than like. I had a moment...
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“Stop being holy, forget being prudent,
it’ll be a hundred times better for...”
– Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching - “Raw Silk & Uncut Wood” (via cityography)
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I’ll be working on the same game as the dude who she’s seeing now. It’s a small industry, but come the fuck on, universe. How many more intersections will you introduce? Another random fucker who messages me about her? Her photo crossing my path as I scroll through my dashboard?
I’d say it could be worse. He could be a local as opposed to a few thousand miles away. Thing...
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I started to write about our first night and the disappointment I felt when she turned me down for a walk home, then the second time I met with her and the extraordinary weekend that followed. I wrote specific details, bits of our conversation as dialogue, the way she took my personal problems with seeing women in stride…
But, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to deal with this...
lovaboxa asked: Are you feeling better? The post this morning was the sweetest one you've written since I've been following you. From the heart, I think.
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I got light-headed in the shower this morning. It felt like when I spent too much time in a sauna. My head ached from overwork and a continued bout of some common illness. I could still see the scrapings of her claws on my left bicep. They intersected the faded stretch marks. I could count to twelve by them. I felt nauseous for a moment and got out to press my forehead to the wall. I dripped for a...
