In defense of anger, solitude, burning jealousy
Evil grin, yellow clouds, whiskey, sunshine, smoke
Artwork by Nina Vels
You make me balk with your pretentiousness. The best ones, the ones who eventually create the stuff you pretend to have opinions on, are earnest, embarrassing, embarrassed, creating in basements and messy rooms, dragging plastic ghosts through their brains, running things in circles, sweating, meditating, talking to their gods. Getting over things too late
The sexiest people in the world don’t erase anything and have the vocabulary for everything
Not the first or the last to be written about it, but it is true that something grows between the becoming and the having become. It is so precious and tiny that I forget it matters
That was the summer I was spending a lot of time at the grocery store. I was trying to be brave more often than I was actually brave
Think Drake, Russ, Divine, Halsey. Think the first season of Killing Eve, the Sia cover of “Satisfied” from Hamilton, Diane from Bojack Horseman, the Midnights 3am tracks, “Nothing New” ft Phoebe Bridgers
When you choose the good things, you win in ways they can’t see yet. Compounding is so real
All the fallow periods, it helps to have a question. Eventually you set fire and start again. Sow and burn, sow and burn
You leave the jerks behind, the motherfuckers and assholes. You let them crumble in their ordinary, devastating lives. Cause of death: mediocrity
I am finally the unlikeable narrator, sue me. I am not liked because I am angry and alone and burning in jealousy
Humor me: you work hard, and sweat your body, and get sexier. Yes, I smell the smoke and I am still burning. But I work hard and sweat my body and write earnest words, not worrying if they turn good later
There is no such thing as the other woman. It all is what it is, all alive, all love and desperation. There is no third woman. She always was just a woman
To breathe deep now. To smell the mandarin and strawberry mists and eat paneer pepper sandwiches and black grapes and rage coffee and type furiously
Love wins over indifference. Always.
My day job tickles and stretches my brain and voice. My night job sets things on fire. I like them both
People leave. Try not to take it personally
I play with my hair, you play with yours. Come over, won’t you? Not him, you