A letter to Damon Albarn: 29 March 2012
A letter to Damon Albarn: Hi. How are you? I miss you. I miss you and I don’t even know you. I miss you because I saw you only once at your concert in Seattle. I cried the whole time.…
Who cares? 19 March 2012
THINGS: Who cares? About anything? How do you care? Futility. How are we to survive? How can I conquer my own irrationality? Slight changes in my mind – hopelessness/despair, then excitement for the future; feelings of doom and that bad…
the constant stability of sanity: 24 November 2011
I want immortality, perfection, permanence, security, the constant stability of sanity, to keep everything remembered forever, never forgotten…but truly I don’t want any of these things. I’ll get bored and feel trapped, I’m contradicting myself, fucking up the harmony or…
Good vibrations: 10 November 2011
Good vibrations: black-tipped nails, sweatshirts over dresses, almost finishing a book and starting another, secret uninhabited parts of London that aren’t touristy, cloudy gray mornings with coffee and thick socks and braided hair and alone, wearing the same clothes over…
I wonder if you are the clockmaker: 24 October 2011
I need this journal. I need my own words breathless and sparked and nonsensical and hurtful and published and worrisome and anxious and the death urges. My anemic emotional handwriting that may not be my own, alone. No right, no…
Everyone thinks I understand everything: 22 de noviembre de 2014
I think I’m at the point in learning Spanish where everyone thinks I understand everything. Twitchy, distracted, unfocused, breathing hard, absorbing everything. I could feel all my thoughts, all physical movements as positive or negative energy, all shifting and morphing…
I want to smoke cigarettes in outdoor cafes: 02 de mayo de 2014
I want to wear jewelry and paint my nails and smoke cigarettes in outdoor cafes while drinking coffee and writing. I want to eat healthy food, cook healthy food, smoke weed and drink mate with friends and talk about the…
Hablando con mi misma: 31 de agosto de 2015
Estoy hablando con mi misma, como la mayoría de las veces que estoy hablando (de algo que pienso importante). Fumé la resina de mi pipa que había tenido escondida por casi dos años en un libro con el medio sacado,…
That weird pleasure: 03 de agosto de 2015
What’s with that weird pleasure one finds in doing something she knows she shouldn’t do? Like smoking cigarettes or eating a fuck-ton of carbs? Yesterday was Sunday and everyone and her fucking grandmother and dog and 20 kids came to…
The way he walks: 12 de mayo de 2015
We walked around the city last night after smoking paraguayo, which still had an earthy, thick smell of real marihuana, and the whole time all I could think about was the way he walks and what it says about his…