This year, spring was more than just a handy metaphor. Everything (internal / external) is changing, and it feels good to be in motion. I’ve been quietly working on some things that I’m excited to show you all. I’ve got some ideas tucked away, you know, some secrets up my sleeves. I hope things are well where you are and you’re creating, living, finding solace in the way that the seasons have a grand, sweeping way of making every new bloom feel like the earth’s going out of its way to applaud loudly. Some sort of strange standing ovation just for you.
Anonymous asked: How would you get over someone you have dated for 7 months?
How would I?
I’d probably be inconsolable for a little while, you know? My roommate would probably have to order me pizza and I’d cry and watch Eternal Sunshine and like, Elizabethtown too many times and write bad poetry and gaze sadly out windows and “I NEEEEED YOU SO MUCH CLOOOSEEEEER” would blare out of my speakers and everyone would hate me for a little while.
But then, on day eight (or maybe nine, or ten (no more than that though, or else you’re probably over-doing it)) I’d listen to Tigers Jaw really stinking loud and maybe smile at a handsome boy on the train and I’d wear cute dresses or cut offs and read nice things and try to remember that c’est la vie~!
As much as our feeble little hearts want to hold onto things, sometimes a change is much needed. And regardless of what the situation is, it’s hard to move from something comfortable into something unknown. But you’ve just got to surround yourself with good people and maybe have a lot of wine-drunk singalongs and read books and remind yourself that your existence is not dependent on anyone else’s (no matter how much you did or do love them).
TL;DR, the answer is just mostly pizza.
The nights I sleep on my side have grown exponentially since we met. Like a seizure might happen at any moment, I am terrified of swallowing my own tongue (not like it would be the first goddamn time). Slept like a log just in case you didn’t want to touch me. I could spare myself being pushed away and stay on my own side by choice.
Wouldn’t be such a problem these days if it weren’t for those echoes we tempt ourselves with—some sad, slow memories of how things were and how we’ll never get them back again. You’re the Grand Canyon, the pyramids I climbed in Mexico as a child with the dirt in my hands.
You’re billboard big to me.
A year ago today I was hanging out with one of my absolute best friends in the world. It’s so insane to me how much everything in my life, and yours, has changed. We’re adults now (we try to be, or I think we feel like we have to be) and we work our blurry 9 to 5 shifts in places we don’t call home (in places I don’t call home), and somehow I found myself spiraling and crashing drunk into what this is and what I am and it’s all so mind-blowing, how we got here. You’re my bestie! My best! The soft parts, the past-y. (currently sharing) You my breaux! I may be speaking for myself, I think. And i’m drunk, I know. But it’s really the best privilege to have somehow found you, J, and to have actually met you. I hold on to the few days we spent riding in the back of cars, eating weird food and my chasing you around Ashi’s kitchen… even with my clothes somewhere unknown….
The point is this: Happy Birthday, J! I love you, obvi, and am so very glad that I know you, have met you, and continue to have you in my life! Even though I suck so much… Like a lot sometimes… and even though so much has changed, and so much will continue to shift and find it’s place, I know you’re my d00 and i’ma steady mobb with you by my side.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, J! ;>
(sorry this is drunk and probably so awkward!) <3
(no i wont proof-read this.)
Best drunk dude in the whole universe, and that is all. A year ago was weird and rad and I miss everything always, including B windmilling us into danger and fireflies and watching Let’s Make A Deal in the morning. And life shifts in strange ways, but we’re always cool. Always falling back on each other for things we were made for. We did it. We made it through twenty alive, steady goddamn mobbin’. ;)
Sunset views from the rooftop of my new building, and feeling really great.
rings of flowers ‘round your eyes and I love you.
You’re my favorite time in the morning, sleepy voice and hands. I hear you. It’s the sheets rustling loud and another time zone waking. You’re the best secret I’ve ever kept, coffee eyes. Stories shifting from foot to foot like they were nervous to be outed. Like they didn’t trust me. May has been wakeful, building tension. Telling me how if we were just careful enough, later on we could tiptoe around the floorboards into the backyard to watch the night fall around us like the slickest of thieves. You jump on ahead to the good parts.
I haven’t found a rooftop to climb in a long time but I’ve been scouting city skylines with my eyes ready to meet you up there. I want to show you how that muddy watercolor water just meant I had a lot of different streams running through me at the same time. How they all bled together and bled me dry. But we’re going to pull each color out, one by one, watch them unravel themselves right back into being something vibrant and recognizable again.
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Lately I’ve been trying to document things using anything other than words because sometimes moments are worth more than that. Sometimes I just want to pay attention to the minuteness of things—details, movements, sounds. And I’m working on things. Figuring out how to be happy again. Figuring out how to balance my time and energies—trying to be good and be better.
Anyways, this is just a little clip from the Coldplay show I ended up going to a while back. They’re not a band I would probably go out of my way to purchase tickets to see, but my future roommate (in a week!) has some sweet connections. Sometimes old songs that have died out in your memory find a way to chill your skin and find a way back in. You know, a lot of things feel that way right now. Some sort of weird, churning mixture of the nostalgic and the new. I hope spring, thus far, has been the same for you too.
Totally in awe of music / art / people who are vulnerable and wonderful and brave and bare their souls even when they have an audience of watching eyes. Tom Gabel wrote this song in 2007. It wasn’t a metaphor and it was just honest and there and I’m a lot speechless.
“If I could have chosen, I would have been born a woman
My mother once told me she would have named me Laura
I would grow up to be strong and beautiful like her”
day one hundred and seventy five.
We were lights off and laughing like the last time. It was probably the first, but things double back on themselves like spines bent and stumbling. The way that some things become full circle when you’ve got your back turned. I could feel it all flickering, always have. The red glow and all of those stars burned on the backs of our eyes. It’s become nine to fives, and late nights. Curling up inside of all of it, fragments and bodies too tired to dream.
I could feel it all flickering. Always have.
In those days, though, the spring always came finally
but it was frightening that it had nearly failed.
hemingway
