Father John Misty and The Walkmen at the Vic tonight in Chicago. Listened to Nancy from now on at least 100x and could, will, listen 100 more. The video is spectacular too, I want the jewels on her hand. I also need a haircut. Nothing new there #longhairdontcare.
we are the lovesick. the fearless ones. the never giving up.
the hearts undone. sick with the desire to love. to live so far
beyond the boundaries given to us. we are the fence-hopping
fools who never stopped to read the signs. the ones that left
the world behind. like dreams we’ve drawn in neon light. just
moments in the sea of time. we are the lost ones wandering.
the soon to be smoldering. last to be found. the first to fall and
fail to fly then shatter on the ground. we are the rebels running
wild through a darkness that can swallow us. but we’ve set fire
to our souls. burning brilliant blinding gold. the flames that illuminate
our lonely road. our futures holding fates untold. we are the
ever-refusing to fold. to fade away or worse to lose. the few that
bend and break apart the cages of our rules. born desperate for the
promise of the mystery unknown. we are the lovesick. and just like
the sun we will always rise. hope still shining in our eyes…
– Jason Reeves.
“I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet,
concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree
in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that
Nothing Ever Happened, so don’t worry. It’s all like a dream.
Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don’t know it because of our thinking-minds.
But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright
forever and forever and forever.”
Eleven o’clock had come and gone. I had to find a way to bring this conversation to a successful conclusion and get out of there. But before I could say anything, she suddenly asked me to hold her.
‘Why?’ I asked, caught off guard.
‘To charge my batteries,’ she said.
‘Charge your batteries?’
‘My body has run out of electricity. I haven’t been able to sleep for days now. The minute I get to sleep I wake up, and then I can’t get back to sleep. I can’t think. When I get like that, somebody has to charge my batteries. Otherwise, I can’t go on living. It’s true.’
I peered into her eyes, wondering if she was still drunk, but they were once again her usual cool, intelligent eyes. She was far from drunk.
Did you ever, in that wonderland wilderness of adolesence, quite unexpectedly, see something, a dusk sky, a wild bird, a landscape, so exquisite terror touched you at the bone? And you are afraid, terribly afraid the smallest movement, a leaf, say, turning in the wind, will shatter all? That is, I think, the way love is, or should be: one lives in beautiful terror. -t.capote
the wind was howling at my bedroom windows this morning. trying to tell me something, but it couldn’t translate the words. like talking underwater. muffled. it had a threatening and violent presence- like choking on water, drowning words. it kept me awake. awake with an awful awareness. not half awake but awake and still feeling in a dream. sleep can’t save you from the feeling, you can’t sleep and wake anew. so I listened to it knock and strained my ears to hear what it was telling me. x. – k
“Te amo como se aman ciertas cosa oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.
(I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.)”
once upon a cloudy day. reading poetry, drinking black coffee, working/writing, musing. i’m leaving for colorado tomorrow to visit my family and long-lost best-friends. i need to pack at some point but i’m putting it off until the last minute. crossing my fingers for colorado sunshine. here’s looking at you chicago.
saturday night mayhem- obviously a couple pics of Figs and I taken in the bathroom?… no idea… and a chi girls group photo taken before even leaving the apt. then finally delicious truffle fries at lux bar on sunday afternoon. one of the best sundays yet in chicago- spent with lovely Figs, Whit and recovering b-day babe, Sarah. balcony nesting, ice tea drinking, nail painting, summer daydreaming and much needed/hilarious recapping. x.
— Coco Chanel