you know how you will have an album for years and kinda listen to it occasionally and be all enh about it, and then you listen to it again after a year, when you've grown and changed and omg it's actually really good and you listen to it on repeat for a while ( Read more... )

1. Take a cucumber or two. Peel it (them). Slice it lengthwise in half, and then halve the halves. Slice these into one-inch chunks ( Read more... )

If I hear about another "Ugly Sweater slash Christmas" party I think my head might explode from the sheer retardedness of it all ( Read more... )

I lose the people I care about the most.

My first quasi-non-bland meal in two weeks: fresh angel hair pasta tossed with browned butter with toasted garlic, drizzled with citron olive oil and sprinkled with fleur de sel and mizithra, with sliced tomatoes and balsamic vinegar.

Let it be said that if this meal kills me, then it is because I love balsamic vinegar more than life itself.

livin la vida anorexia!

listen to a song over and over until it is so familiar you don't hear the words. it becomes a feeling. it becomes a feeling and you can sketch it out with crumbling crayons and burnish it to a shine with candy wrappers and lacquer. a grotesque parody ( Read more... )

When I'm not pensive, I find myself narrating everything I do or see happening. I start to form descriptive narrative of people I study on the bus or the escalator. I can't stop myself from reading text if my eyes come in contact with it. My life is textual. I need to learn more about semiotics, I think, because I read the world ( Read more... )

It feels like it should bother me somehow, make me feel some way, when I realize that most of the time I don't feel much at all. My doctor switched up my birth control for a month and I went from my usual background hum of emptiness to a roller-coaster ride from hell. Now I'm back down again, off the estrogen (terrible stuff), and it's just... ( Read more... )

Went back and started reading the LJ of a friend who died a few years ago. Wish you were here. I'd mail you a postcard, but I don't know the address.

Life never stops breaking your heart, does it?