Spending my Friday night writing postcards. (And drinking)
Lena Dunham’s tweets are just regurgitated titles of Feministing articles that are soon to rewritten on xoJane by some asshole wearing an etsy romper with kool-aid colored hair.
Mercy x Kanye West x Big Sean x Pusha T x 2 Chainz
Tryna get my mind right so I’m listening to this on repeat.
I am drenched from head to toe after getting caught in a torrential downpour, but the good news is I can finally add “the upstairs bathroom at the library on 81st St” on my list of “Places I Have Cried In Public.”
I just attempted to write a thing and I couldn’t figure out how to get my point across, which made me extremely annoyed and frustrated with myself. Instead of just sleeping on it, I am going to stay up and think about how it feels to be a fraud. (Only for a little while though because self-contempt is exhausting as hell.)
I guess this is just a seriously maddening lull in playwriting and writing in general, but when this happens I know that I need to read more. For whatever reason I haven’t been reading much of anything since school ended. This has damn near tranquilized any talent for writing I have in me. So, what was the last book or long form piece that you really loved? Please recommend something to your girl.
Harvey Milk: SUPERvisor
“If a bullet should enter my brain, let that bullet destroy every closet door.”
(via bbook)
I won’t straighten my hair again until September.
(Source: stronzilli-blog)
