me thinks that quarter to five is definitely not too early to start drinking wine. by myself.
nope. not too early at all :)
1 month ago ⋅ 13 notes
me thinks that quarter to five is definitely not too early to start drinking wine. by myself.
nope. not too early at all :)
I should make a journal of the days. A journal of not what the days are like, but what they feel like. And maybe I would be able to find the pattern, looking at them all, strung up on a string of pages, one after the other, like pearls. A pattern of what it is to go from one day to the other. A puzzle. A cipher. A code.
This is a day for making cheap jewelry out of plastic beads. This is a day to stare at the ceiling and eat beans out of a can. This is a day for imaginary walks along the Thames. This is a day where I shouldn’t talk. This is a day of ambulances’ sirens. This is a day for picnics in the living room. This is a day where the world feels too small. This is a day for broken promises. This is a day for making love all afternoon.
It doesn’t matter if all these things actually happen. They’re just what the air feels like in the morning and what the mind settles on after the haze of sleep has gone. My mind.
If I were to make that maybe…maybe I would know. Know better.
(we used to go to the beach most summers. One week or two. On the coast of Maine. I have fond memories of it. And I miss the ocean)
golden-hazed memories.
⋅ Misc 50s and 60s 41 plays |
Leader of the Pack - Shangris-Las
planning to make a mix…
having a weird day where I feel like listening to 90’s female singer-songwriters and make tattoo designs so I can cover all of my arms and shoulders with them.
I might just read a romance novel instead.
The Panther made fast to the Floe in Melville Bay, between the Icebergs and Field Ice (1869)
