Only a few hours’ sleep. Early morning flight. Destination reached mid-morning. Coffee. Talking. Crying. More crying. Breakdown. Epic breakdown. Schedule tattoo. Shopping. Coffee. Talking. Dinner. Wine. Friends. Tattoo later tonight.
My favorite girl. More dear friends as the days progress. A veritable crucible of personal discovery and delight. I can’t keep up with the amount of fodder for tumbling. And I haven’t even taken off my pants yet!
I’m dreading going home.
Me: How are you doing?
Her: Pretty good! How are you?
Her: It’s OK. I read your tumblr.
Love ya, lavendermilkshake.
WOMEN. Heed our needs.
I need girl loving. I need girl lips on me. Tongue on my nipples and down further. I need soft hands slapping my ass and grabbing me as we kiss.
Who wants to oblige?
The morning after traumatic events, like car wrecks or deaths of family members, I wake up to a pleasant few seconds of bliss before the stark and harsh memories flood back into my consciousness. They punch me in the stomach before sinking down to the center of my awareness. I hate that feeling.
I’d rather experience that feeling everyday than the long, drawn out agony of uncertainty and suspicion in which I currently live. At least that punch resolves into acceptance.
I almost always have high standards for my spelling and grammar. A few typos sneak in, but I’m pretty meticulous about my writing. I also try to make the content relevant and interesting to at least a few people I think might read it. I tend to present even very emotional thoughts in a cold, almost clinical manner. There is order to my writing, and when combined with intermittent application of humor and cynicism, it seems to make sense to folks. Even when I’m freaking out, there’s a calm constraint to the chaos.
I resent people for being open about wanting the same things that I want but feel that I don’t deserve.
- Courtney Martin (via creatingaquietmind)
I love this.
I wonder what it’s like to look back at actions you’ve made in the past and realize you’re a huge fucking asshole.
Last week fucking sucked. Lots of other people apparently had similar experiences around the same time, but I was so closed off in my own head I had no idea. My brain took a little swim in the metaphorical deep end and scared the shit out of me. I isolated myself for a few days to recuperate. It wasn’t the method I’d prefer for a hard reboot of my brain, but I did obtain the desired effect.
Her: You can get slushies there. Blue or red.
Me: I like when colors are flavors. They don’t really approximate fruit.
Her: Yeah, me too, except cola. That’s a flavor.
Him: Cola’s a nut, but not really a nut. Kind of like a nut.
Her: I made couscous today and it was really delicious.
Him: There was a creepy man at the door back there, just staring inside.
Her: He must’ve been a zombie.
Me: Zombies always wear suits.
Yup, that’s about how the whole conversation went. It made sense sometimes.
The highlight of my day so far (in addition to the video I just posted) was plucking three inchworms off my pants after lunch, dumping them in the toilet, and pissing on them. Don’t worry, I flushed.
We ate lunch outside under some oak trees, and those damn inch worms dive bombed us the whole time. The oak catkins kept dropping on us, too. That’s in addition to the pine pollen which coats every surface in a sickly yellow-green fuzz. Nature hates me right now.
Dear 28-year-old Liri,
Seems like you’ve forgotten a few things. Let me remind you.
You don’t have to do everything perfectly. Remember how you use to mess stuff up all the time? It always worked out. You can still make mistakes.
Your family is there to help you. Please let them.
Good and bad things happen to everyone. They tend to even each other out, but sometimes you have to look pretty hard to find the good stuff.
Oh, and nice tits!
Rainer Maria Rilke
I develop pretty strong mental associations between people and places/TV shows/feelings/etc. So often after relationships end, I find these things reminding me of people and triggering unpleasant memories or profound sadness. Sometimes these associations fade with time, and sometimes I purposely go about reclaiming those things as my own, by developing positive associations.
Here are some things I’ve reclaimed:
- Marge Piercy
- Star Trek: Enterprise
- one of the local bars I often patronize
- Cool Water
- my right to express myself on twitter and tumblr
- my sexuality
Here are some things I have yet to fully reclaim. Consider them “works in progress.”
- Game of Thrones
- Doctor Who
- The Walking Dead
- my right to feel emotion
- the ability to ask my friends for help and support
I like that it’s a lot harder to think of things I still need to reclaim than things I’ve already made my own again.
I tweeted yesterday that some people should come with warning labels. This is not a new sentiment in the twitter world or even the world at large, and I’m sure I’ve read it before. It was a preamble for some thoughts on what warning labels I’d most like to see on people. In my mind, you have to pull down someone’s pants to find the label, or peek at the sole of their foot.
- For external use only.
- Extended exposure may cause burns.
- Do not spray in eyes.
- Do not use orally.
- May cause drowsiness.
- Objects in mirror are smaller than they appear.
- Fragile. Do not drop.