summertime in the city.

why is the city so much better in the summer?
exploring markets and festivals.
walking everywhere, even the ttc is more bearable.
explore your city while you still can.

world peace duh.

So like, right now for example. The Haitians need to come to America. But some people are all, "What about the strain on our resources?" Well it's like when I had this garden party for my father's birthday, right? I put R.S.V.P. 'cause it was a sit-down dinner. But some people came that like did not R.S.V.P. I was like totally buggin'. I had to haul ass to the kitchen, redistribute the food, and squish in extra place settings. But by the end of the day it was, like, the more the merrier. And so if the government could just get to the kitchen, rearrange some things, we could certainly party with the Haitians. And in conclusion may I please remind you it does not say R.S.V.P. on the Statue of Liberty. Thank you very much. 
cher, clueless

tgif.

blue valentine.

are.

I'M DRAWN TO A TOUCH OF ELEGANCE, LIGHTNESS, AND YOUTHFULNESS. PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT JUST PRESENTING AN IMAGE, BUT A REPUTATION AS WELL. PEOPLE WHO LIVE NONCHALANTLY, IN BOTH LARGE CITIES AND IN SMALL TOWNS; PEOPLE WHO FOCUS ON QUALITY OF SOLID TRADITIONS THEY’VE TURNED INTO GUIDELINES FOR CONTEMPORARY LIFE; PEOPLE FAMILIAR WITH THAT KIND OF WELL-EDUCATED LUXURY THAT MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE, YET NEVER FLAUNTING IT; PEOPLE WHO ALSO KNOW HOW TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT ALL AND CAN JUST RELAX, HAVE FUN, AND JOKE WITH FRIENDS. SPECIAL, “COMPLETE,” RESPECTABLE PEOPLE, PEOPLE WHO REALLY HAVE NO NEED TO “APPEAR,” INSOFAR AS THEY ALREADY “ARE."

Donatella SARTORIO 

old bones over here.

friday night. my feet hurt. all I want to do is curl up with a glass of wine and read game of thrones.
maybe some skypsie nine if things get crazy.

it was never you.

if there is one thing i can stress, it is that he or she is not for you. those break ups, those fights, those sleepless nights, they all mean something. you are wasting your time. yes, love is hard and love is strange but, no matter what songs say, love is not something you work for. it's there at the end of a hard day. it's there after you hear bad news. they are there and no distance, no aggravation, no problem will change that as long as you love each other.

commited.

tgif.

leaning on glass.

fall fashion.

those things.

those tiny things. those tiny simply amazing things. when you get the cold side of a pillow. when your meal comes faster than expected. when you fall asleep before they turn around to get comfortable. having your heart fill with the sensation of happiness because of your amazing friends, a good book, a cup of tea, a glass of wine. when they make your heart melt with the simplicity of just knowing they care. it's those things.

sea glass.

Let's put all our treasures together
 the clocks, plates, cups cracked by the cold
into a sack and carry them
to the sea
and let our possessions sink
into one alarming breaker
that sounds like a river.
May whatever breaks
be reconstructed by the sea
with the long labor of its tides.
So many useless things
which nobody broke
but which got broken anyway.

Ode to broken things by Pablo Neruda

ariana.

game of thrones.

read the series. watch the show. you will not be disappointed. magically medieval.

without complexities or pride.

such a bore.

making coffee, grocery shopping, errands, watering the plants, doing work at home wearing glasses, and setting the table. I miss doing all these things with you.

wrestling with an octopus.

I'm wrestling with an octopus

and faring less than well,

one peek at my predicament

should be enough to tell.

It held me in a hammerlock,

then swept me off my feet,

I'm getting the impression

that I simply can't compete.

I'd hoped that I could hold my own,

but after just a while,

I ascertained I couldn't match

an octopus's style.

It flipped me by a shoulder,

and it latched onto a hip,

essentially that octopus

has got me in its grip.

I tried assorted armlocks,

but invariably missed,

and now I'm in a headlock,

and it's clinging to my wrist.

It's wound around my ankles,

and it's wrapped around my chest—

when grappling with an octopus,

I come out second best.

Jack Prelutsky

Artist: Catherine Howe