This one time on a ski trip to Bristol Mountain in New York in grade seven a girl broke her leg on the last day, and one of our teachers had to hand over their credit card to get it checked and splinted at the hospital. Then the girl rode on the long seat in the back of the Greyhound on our way…
Brb, moving to Canada. See you all when I’m a ghost.
Very true. Although it’s equally as true that when I read an account of a life in which everyone is inexplicably mean to a faultless narrator, I start to wonder about how well the narrator actually perceives the world about them…
True dat, both things. Also: you’ve been warned.
(Source: mmmmilk, via theashleyclements)
Sculptures by Francesco Albano
Francesco Albano was born in Oppido Mamertina, Italy on November 19, 1976. He lives and works in Istanbul and graduated from the sculpture department of Accademia di Belle Arti di Carrara in 2000. In 2005 he won the National Prize of Arts-MIUR for sculpture. In 2008 he had his first solo exhibition “Everyday Bestiary” curated by Flavio Arensi and Stefano Castelli at the Castle of San Giorgio di Legnano(MI). Dovevaccadere-SALe (space art legnano). The same year, Turkish director Cansin Sağesen made a short movie inspired by his works. In September 2009, he had his second solo exhibition “Five Easy Pieces” at Ex- Marmi Gallery in Pietrasanta. In June 2011 he had two sculptures in in the 54th International Art Exhibition in Venice Biennale at the Arsenale in the exhibition”Lo Stato dell’ Arte”. In December 2011 his sculptures series P.I.E.T.A.S. were exhibited at the gallery Studio 9 in Istanbul.
I’m going to have some really weird dreams tonight.
Told myself I was going to get some tasty thai food tonight, since it’s Friday, since I’m working tomorrow, since I ate up all the rest of the leftovers today. But I’m not hungry.
'Tis a conundrum.
A while ago, I penned a fairly angry response to something circulating on the internet – the 21 Habits of Happy People. It pissed me off beyond belief, that there was an inference that if you weren’t Happy, you simply weren’t doing the right things.
I’ve had depression for as long as I can…
Apparently I gave this a little red heart some time ago—not sure when. Someone on Facebook just re-posted it (possibly the same person as before, who knows) and it still fits. Actually, it fits more. I think when I first came across this I “hearted” it so that I would have it somewhere to look at (clearly I hadn’t yet figured out that eventually you just don’t look for something in your thousands upon thousands of “liked” posts), or something in the back of my mind wanted to file it away in case I would ever need it.
I’m glad that this is circulating. I didn’t remember a thing about it when I felt my shittiest, but that fact that it’s still floating around means that there are plenty of other things floating around, and the general sentiments are part of what helped me through. And now that I know what it’s like to eat something totally bad for you, but not worrying about it because at least it means you’re eating, or to be so hungry and tired that you feel like you’ll fall down, or to sneak away multiple times in a day to find a place where no one will see you cry, I’m even more glad that we’re talking about things like this.
It’s December and I have left my heat turned off since Sunday (at least—possibly Saturday).
Literary Coffee by Gianluca Biscalchin
I was going to suggest that this was made just so that the Hemingway booze joke could be made, but when I got to the Beckett coffee I laughed out loud. I’m still laughing. Trying not to as its work—not because it’s inappropriate, but because if I laugh louder, I’ll end up having to explain it and it’s no fun if you have to try to explain a Beckett joke to someone who has never read or seen Beckett.
Chatty co-worker has inspired me to become a person who speaks only when it is ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NECESSARY.
I think I need a huge mustache, gun collection and stash of buried gold.
Today I’m having a terrible time letting it all go again. It all came back over break and I don’t know why. It may as well have just happened. I wish I could switch time around today, do therapy now and then work.
I still feel like I’m being punished for something I did that I don’t get to know about. Things were weird an I wanted to fix them. Then this terrible thing happened and I thought we were all in it together, but then I was effectively cast out. I am now unwelcome because someone else was too afraid to tell the truth, and I don’t get a say about it—about the way things happened, about him, about myself as concerns everyone else. I don’t know why it matters so much to me. I wish it would stop. I think it was never what I thought. I think he told me lies. I think I was out before the terrible thing happened, and there was a three-week lull while he waited for it to be more socially appropriate. Telling me all the while that he was in love with me.
Part of me is still trying to fix it: wanting to apologize, wanting to scream, wanting to defend myself, set things straight. I know empirically that I can’t, but my head is still trying to.
Methought I was…methought I had…
But man is a patched fool if he is to say what methought I had.