(Source: visual-poetry, via visual-poetry)
(Source: palavre, via reila-time)
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“By the north window was a bookcase painted a pale blue and filled with literature—Henry James, Melville, Shakespeare—the spines neatly aligned. (Later, Sendak told me, “Even my loneliness is organized.”)” — “Not Nice,” Cynthia Zarin with Maurice Sendak
(Source: newyorker.com)
You have a poetic sensibility and an ability to see beyond the day to day. You often seem to be living in a higher realm, or to be not-of-this-earth. Occasionally you imagine interior lives for friends and associates that are near-complete fabrications based on your fears or hopes for the future. You are often not aware of your own feelings. You have a strong sense of right and wrong, and because of this are often disappointed. Despite what can sometimes be a destructive inward-turning anger, you are very gentle. You are sometimes a bit out of touch with the ebb and flow of modern life. If your behavior is out of synch with your moral values, a severe psychic disturbance can result. Because connectivity is so important to you, you can become quiet and sulky if you feel that others around do not understand your point of view.
(Source: hypnoid.com)
by Fiona Helmsley
The slip is Christian Dior. I could never afford such finery. I got it at a thrift store while I was living at a Women’s Halfway House. Most of my housemates did their shopping at the thrift store, but for my roommate, it was the first time in her life that she had ever even been in one. She viewed shopping there as another benchmark for how far she had fallen. I heard her crying in the dressing room as she tried on a pair of pants.
I wore the slip the first time I had sex with the only man I ever really planned to marry. I say really because in most serious relationships before the age of twenty-five, the idea of marriage is floated. You’re young and naïve and don’t understand how hard it is to sustain a relationship.
I was feeling shy, and paired the slip with a fur coat that had been my great-grandmother’s. I used to justify wearing the fur by saying that the animal would have been dead by now anyway. Whenever I wore it outside, I was always afraid that someone was going to step from the shadows and splatter me with paint.
That night, I looked like a lost Beale. With his preppy good looks and weakness for cocaine, he reminded me of a bad-assed Kennedy. He had a large, circular scar in the middle of his forehead from a drunk driving accident. I loved the scar, and when I didn’t, I said I thought it made his head look like a dented can.
It took me ten years to tap out to drugs. I give up, you win, and I’m not playing against you anymore. My fiancé used to compare himself to Fat Elvis who only sees Thin Elvis when he looks in the mirror. Fat Elvis who has yet to notice that the venues are getting smaller, that the seats are no longer being filled. In an interview once, Courtney Love said, “I’m not going to be Judy Garland and die in front of a thousand clowns.” The quote makes me think of my fiancé, the 1,000 clowns his own reflection in a funhouse mirror.
We never made it to the wedding. We were mismatched in all ways except for drugs. But rereading this now, maybe we weren’t.
(Source: wornstories.com)
“I suppose we wear our traumas the way the guillotine wears gravity.” — “Prism,” Andrea Gibson
Ralph Lauren Fall/Winter 2012
(via earlyfrost)
(Source: amyfaye11)
(via wishflowers)