assuming our energies are sufficient, love is interminable.
jim harrison, the road home
RYAN (HEAD-BUTT), 1999
“That’s not my blood. I was making out with my main squeeze on a stoop in the East Village and some macho jock dickhead walked by and called us fags. I don’t think he expected me to get up in his face. We scrapped a bit and then I head-butted him and could feel his nose break on my forehead. We ran for blocks, laughing at the top of our lungs, and then jumped into bed, where my boyfriend took this picture of me.”
(via fuckyeahryanmcginley)
all adventurous women do, girls 1x03
the only person standing in your way is you
(look at her reflection in the mirror)
"the hazards of a changing outlook, of having a mind that could become as old as his, seemed very far away."
the best of everything, rona jaffe
i recognize
i was standing in front of this white board i have up in my bedroom, where i write stuff out when i’m in the pre-writing stages of whatever i’m working on. and this afternoon i took a step back, trying to rethink something. i glanced to my left where my desk is, and where it has become the temporary display case for my grandmother’s painting. it’s a take on picasso’s leaning harlequin, painted when she was in college.
it was in the garage, when i visited florida a few weeks ago, for my grandfather’s funeral—in the same exact place i always remember seeing it—on a shelf near the right corner. i’ve seen that painting resting in the same place since i was a little kid. before i left, i asked my grandmother if i could have it. the look on her face made me forget i had come in the first place for a sad occasion.
before i left, early in the morning in the kitchen, i had a glass of water. standing near the phone and all my grandmother’s little notes, in her handwriting, i read over the names on her speed dial. the little scratches, in pencil ink—she always uses pencil. i came to her calendar, which she had just turned to april the other day. the quote on the page was, “enjoy the rainbows that come after the rain.”
i’d be lying to you if i said i didn’t have goosebumps, or that i didn’t think about how that was something i’d have to remember to write about. those moments just don’t happen, you think, in retrospect, until they do.
i looked at this painting, right before my eyes at this very moment, and i’d also be lying if i said i didn’t feel young all over again.
