Saturday, September 28, 2013

Nothing tells memories from ordinary moments; only afterward do they claim remembrance, on account of their scars.
Chris Marker, La Jetée.

Friday, September 6, 2013


I detest objectification but desire having my picture taken.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

A cage filled with light...


Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Hello [Darkness My] Old Friend

This isn't my preferred style of music at all but the lyrics and the video are so whimsical that they inspired my mind with such magical imagery that despite being sick and bed-bound I just want to create. I have all of these enchanting spaces and film reels looping through my head but I never know through which medium to free them. I think this has always been the first requirement I hold for any potential career--that to some extent it lets me dream for a living. I feel like a life of continual inspiration and immersion in fantasy might be the trick to sustaining the child inside.

Friday, March 15, 2013

you loved ugly so much it became you

Friday, February 22, 2013


Got my heart-shaped necklace after all--now for grounds to wear my heart in the open.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

There is a reason the letters for hope lurk in the word misanthrope. Obscured in part, perhaps a little frightened, but they are there.


People will often hate you because they cannot understand you. The people for me are those who try. No person can truly understand another. That is the great beauty and tragedy of existence, that everything is a translation. Every word, every expression, every glance, every effort, every creation is an attempt to make something intangible tangible. It is a noble attempt that can never succeed—something is always lost in the translation. The only difference between people that matters is while many become angry at the inability to understand, others make the attempt.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

keeper of my soul

"No one who went to an Alexander McQueen catwalk show could ever again have believed that fashion is merely superficial." 
"Even when he became the toast of Paris, surrounded by the trappings of wealth and fame, he could never stop himself from obsessing over the dark side of beauty, like a little boy turning over a ladybird to examine the black and wriggling legs underneath." 
"He was a Brothers Grimm of fashion, enchanting and captivating the ­audience with the most incredibly ­beautiful clothes, only to make their stomachs lurch with the underlying menace that shot through his work."  
"To wear McQueen is to be dressed in hourglass armour. When I interviewed him a few years ago, he told me: 'I grew up with three older sisters, and I saw them go through a lot of shit, I always wanted to be able to protect them.' He did this the best way he knew how. 'They would call me up to their room and I'd help them pick out clothes for work. Just, you know, what skirt with what cardigan, but I was always trying to make them look strong and sheltered.'"
"He loved to describe himself as an anarchist, but when he received his CBE he told his parents that he locked eyes with the Queen and that it was like falling in love." 
"The genius of his clothes lay in his ability to keep the joy and hope symbolised by beauty and perfection in a tantalising equilibrium with the darkness which rumbled beneath."
-Jess Cartner-Morley

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Stockholm Syndrome

I tell anyone that will listen that this cold is good to me. Come home and my hands bleed from cracks I hid in pockets.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

negative space

The space between is exquisite. Ask any typographer--the space between letters is often more important than the letters. The space between lines in a body of text is more telling than the lines of text. The space between limb and torso is what gives the body its curve. The space between fingers is designed to fit another's. Space is invisible, but not hollow.
She liked how blue everything was.

“Everything was blue,” She wrote in her notebook. Upon lifting the ballpoint, she frowned. Blotting the page were sharp slants and bulbous vowels. She scratched out the line and shut the notebook. Hours passed as she sat motionless, fingers pressed to her mouth. Occasionally her lips would part to let out a sigh.

When everything blue turned black she rose and walked through the corridor without turning on the light.

Friday, February 1, 2013

cupid baby, ive been an angel all year

It must have started with Love Actually and the
I don't want something I need. I want something I want - something pretty.
because now one heart is not enough to warm my chest... craving a heart necklace like the one Harry got for Mia. As always, Betsey knows.

source: Betsey Johnson
source: Betsey Johnson

Wednesday, January 30, 2013


To wear my fear on my sleeve
A gown woven from a web
Spun by a spider

wind tunnels

wind tunnels through my hair; leaves levitate.
Morrissey murmers murder in my ears; no one else hears but i hear no one else.
is anything more beautiful? i don't know i just breathe in the sound

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

"Most of our childhood is stored not in photos, but in certain biscuits, lights of day, smells, textures of carpet. "
-Alain de Botton

Monday, January 21, 2013

There are only two ways I desire to know people…intimately, or not at all.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

a poem called winter

no one can break my heart the way bukowski can
above, the spectrum ranges from moody and stormy to opaque and cloudless to coquettish to simmering to playful to sad to weeping yet we never shun the sky. the range of emotion in the human experience is a mirror image of the sky but never garners the same acceptance

Drawn again to the bone coloring of winter--statue and marble and brick and shrub drained of color--everywhere the same bleakness, but look how with a touch of violet from the sky it stirs.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Night is purer than day; it is better for thinking and loving and dreaming. At night everything is more intense, more true. The echo of words that have been spoken during the day takes on a new and deeper meaning. 
-Elie Wiesel

Friday, January 11, 2013

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I want to be a quote that someone cherishes.
I want to like the ephemeral, because it sounds pretty, but words will break your heart because they aren't always what they seem. 

For isn't ephemeral a euphemism for death? But life is ephemeral, and life is beautiful. If life is both beautiful and ephemeral, than is the ephemerality too not beautiful? The fleetingness of life is a characteristic of life. Life and death are not separate, death is simply the end of  life--inextricable from the thing. 
I want you to tell me what, so I can ask you why--because the what is curious but the why is breathtaking.

is passion really just rainwater?

I never feel more love than when soaked in rain
I never feel more loved than when soaked by rain

"I loved you
like a man loves a woman he never touches, only
writes to, keeps little photographs of."
-Charles Bukowski
"In the room the women come and go/Talking of Michelangelo."