April 2011
64 posts
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Problem #283:
I only seem to fall in love with strangers.
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Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us...
– Ira GlassĀ (via thatkindofwoman)
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writing
i want to be a good writer; i want to write well. i want my writing to be emotional, but not hokey. i want it to be witty, but not condescending or self-aggrandizing. lyrical, but not flowery. effortless, not showy.
i want my prose to read strong and clear and sure. i want to build something beautiful, to assemble words upon words, bolstered by a scaffolding of em-dashes and semicolons and...
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inevitably, i will break or ruin everything that is good for me.
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All my life, my heart has sought a thing I cannot name.
– Remembered line from a long-forgotten poem, Hunter S. Thompson
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waiting
there are so many books left to read, so many stories left to write, so many photographs left to take, so many naps left to have, so many trails left to run, so many pancakes left to flip, so many hands left to hold, so many jokes left to laugh at, so many rainy days left to spend in bed, so many coffees left to drink, so many four-leaf clovers left to find, so many movies left to watch, so many...
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the storm
the storm was just a passing rain, really, that forced everyone inside, claiming the outdoors as its own and leaving behind angry greenish skies and the smell of wet earth.
gazing outside onto the now-empty patio, i notice a dyed red carnation sitting in a plastic cup of water in the center of one of the metal tables, abandoned. the petals are kissed by residual raindrops and i spend about 3...
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the horizon is tilted..
and i’m having trouble breathing and i’m too tired to sleep and i’m lost and it feels like my brain might explode and also, everything reminds me of you.