June 2012
1 post
April 2012
5 posts
this room and everything in it: Sleight of Hand →
rabbit-light:
My first time with Houdini, he kept finding things within me I never knew were there: a dime inside my ear, a trembling butterfly in my hair, a rainbow string of handkerchiefs erupting from my dress, all these ecstasies of color I hadn’t felt against my skin. He knew just where I’d hidden …
“One of the mixed blessings of being twenty and twenty-one and even twenty-three...”
– Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem (via hoodablah)
March 2012
4 posts
February 2012
5 posts
January 2012
14 posts
this room and everything in it: The Loneliest Job... →
rabbit-light:
As soon as you begin to ask the question, Who loves me? you are completely screwed, because the next question is How Much? and then it is hundreds of hours later, and you are still hunched over your flowcharts and abacus, trying to decide if you have gotten enough. This is the loneliest job…
“I rent my apartment in Brooklyn, but I don’t have a home. My parents are still...”
– Jonathan Ames (via swedesinstockholm)
“When you wrote your letter it was April,
And you were glad that it was spring...”
– Response by Mary Ursula Bethell (with thanks to ahuntersheart)
December 2011
1 post
November 2011
5 posts
“When my son was six he said, “We don’t know how many years we have for our...”
– http://therumpus.net/2011/07/dear-sugar-the-rumpus-advice-column-78-the-obliterated-place/
October 2011
1 post
“Give me a report on the condition of my soul.
Give me a complete statement of...”
– Anne Sexton
September 2011
7 posts
“Your battles inspired me - not the obvious material battles but those that were...”
– James Joyce (via absea)
2 tags
1 tag
WatchI’m ready to party!
1 tag
August 2011
5 posts
“It all comes back. Perhaps it is difficult to see the value in having one’s self...”
– Joan Didion, “On Keeping a Notebook”
Though she would have preferred long ago to have died, fled, gotten it all over with, the body — Jesus, how the body! — took its time. It possessed its own wishes and nostalgias. You could not just turn neatly into light and slip out the window. You couldn’t go like that. Within one’s own departing but stubborn flesh, there was only the long, sentimental, piecemeal...
“No matter where I was, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it...”
– Janet Fitch
July 2011
4 posts
if i can't go to heaven
jiachi:
let me go to L.A.
YACHT _ Shangri-La