July 2009
MASH is the greatest.
I adore this show. I wish it was still being made. I wish it was an endless show. It makes me cry all the time.
It better stop pouring rain in ten minutes,...
Inspiration
2 tags
I wish I had been on Tumblr when Obama won the...
Just sayin’.
And I still can't fucking write.
Here’s the sad truth about life: we dream and dream and dream and dream, waiting for something spectacular to happen. We have plans for the way we want our lives (or summers or hours or even the next minute) to play out. We have a picture in our head that just seems so idyllic, so perfect.
But it never happens that way.
We think it will—we’re excited and so ready for it. But it just doesn’t....
This summer, I wanted to be getting drunk with my...
I want a library so big you need a ladder to reach...
I woke up the next morning to a beautiful, but unseasonably cool, day—the wind blew with a chill through the gauzy white curtains covering my window, and I was thankful to still be buried under my blankets. The cat lying on the sill of the window didn’t seem very bothered by the coolness—I was convinced that somewhere deep down, beyond all of her domestic calmness and trained compliance, she...
Every face is a history.
The dream clenched me tightly, and I felt my body twitching and spinning uncomfortably in my bed. Felt it, but did not care for it—the dream held on too hard. The faces had their heads turned away—if only I could see the features, I would remember who they were. I knew I had to remember. They were beckoning me to them, these ghosts from the past, the ones I could barely...
This was, quite honestly, one of the most fucked...
I haven't written anything meaningful for seven...
This is so depressing.
The wind blows high and cool in the place where I come from. In the summertime a golden sun shines over everything, and peace is around, almost tangible in the air. The sun flares in our eyes. Long wheat grows first green, then brown in the endless fields. The forests that keep our air so clear are tall and proud. The streams that feed the scattered villages are full of crystal water and never...
Prologue
The current prologue to my currently-in-process novel:
The darkness has its place.
During the night, when all is quiet—more quiet than the infinitely silent days—there is a new life that emerges; new mysteries that appear. In the darkness, when sight is impaired and whispers have millennia of meaning, we become new people. New people in a new Earth. A New World Order.
One with few humans.
...
