Things I love this January.
- No school (yet)
- Target’s candle selection
- Long weekends with A (see photo)
- Sweaters for days
- Books & audiobooks on my Kindle
- Craft blogs
- Sale rack in front of Alexander Book Co.
- Long walks downtown after work
- Cooking low gluten meals
- Avoiding the flu like the plague
- BART people watching
"What I want is to open up. I want to know what’s inside me. I want everybody to open up. I’m like an imbecile with a can opener in his hand, wondering where to begin— to open up the earth. I know that underneath the mess everything is marvelous. I’m sure of it."
Henry Miller
(Source: catherinella, via opticnerves)
(via tylerthecasserole)
i fucking love christmas shopping.
(Source: kellylasserre, via tfiostars)
so i started writing poetry again….
Open
I saw a woman on the train
Quarter to a scratcher card
I buy them at the liquor store
sometimes, not always
Trying to find some luck, just a piece of it
Maybe
My lover relies on bad luck, it’s not karma
He’s undeserving
It’s just a feeling we get that the world is against us, we’re buried
under the branches of things we’re too young for
Things we’re too old for
The inbetween, the cliches
But beyond Top Ramen and jokes about dirty laundry
I can’t see past the fog on the bay bridge––it’s too big
And we feel small when we’re next to big buildings, it’s not funny
A little funny
When we were just 18 and now we know what love is
What it isn’t
Almost
I want to breathe this air for a while, I want to stay here
His cheeks warm my lips instead of vice versa
I’m certain
of not many things
But now, in this room that smells of lemon and last May
I’m honest
I’m a book I have placed on his shelf
Open.
I’m sad.
(via pizza-paradise)
I’ve sort of lost my writing mojo. Things I’d rather be doing right now than Creative Writing homework:
- making pancakes
- sitting outside in the cold
- reading the virgin suicides
- smoking and thinking
- playing music in my headphones too loud
- googling words i don’t know
- walking nowhere in particular
- steaming milk
- sliding around the wood floor in my socks
- kissing andrew’s forehead
- reading my pile of new york magazines
- talking to a stranger on the bus
- anything but this
