January 2012
43 posts
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“…because it was impossible to know her and not fall in love with her…”
deciding to write my 15 page research paper on...
so that i have an excuse to watch the movie and read the book over and over for the next seven weeks :)
writing a paper
this does not even begin to make sense.
fuckyouambiguity
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Look at a day when you are supremely satisfied at the end. It’s not a day when you lounge around doing nothing; it’s when you’ve had everything to do, and you’ve done it.
i just want to go to london and walk in the snow and go to the opera and the ballet and the theatre and get dressed up and drink champagne
that’s all
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“He rested his attention on the ethereal lady who, bending slightly like a flower in spring, brought her white little hand with its half-transparent fingers to her brow. The smile on his face broadened still more when he saw under her hat a rounded chin of a bright whiteness and part of a cheek glowing with the color of the first spring rose.”
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who AM i
all i do is write poetry.
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audition audition i have an audition.
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four hours of distraction
thank you gone with the wind.
not that it completely worked.
it kind of worked.
vivien leigh is a goddess. i’ve said it before. i’ll keep saying it.
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A shudder ran through his veins: before him lay a beauty such as there had never been on earth. It seemed that facial features had never before been assembled into such sharp yet harmonious beauty. She lay as if alive. Her brow, beautiful, tender, like snow, like silver, seemed thoughtful; her eyebrows- night amid a sunny day, thin, regular- rose proudly over her closed eyes, and her eyelashes,...
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In the meantime the more exceptional couple and the boy still lingered in the pavilion of flowers- an enchanted palace to their appreciative taste- Sue’s usually pale cheeks reflecting the pink of the tinted roses at which she gazed; for the gay sights, the air, the music, and the excitement of a day’s outing with Jude had quickened her blood and made her eyes sparkle with vivacity.
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closing night
someone please tell me how this came so quickly
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“I have been too weak, I think!” she jerked out as she pranced on, shaking down tear-drops now and then. “It was burning, like a lover’s- oh, it was! And I won’t write to him any more, or at least for a long time, to impress him with my dignity! And I hope it will hurt him very much- expecting a letter to-morrow morning, and the next, and the next, and no letter...
“The beauty of things must be that they end.”
– Jack Kerouac, Tristessa (via honeyforthehomeless)
that awkward moment when everything in your life...
when you realize that you have created a being with the art you selfishly call yours, a human who has never been actualized to humanity before,
when you have taken a name and a series of words that have been typed onto a packet of white computer paper and breathed life, but more importantly, truth into her
when you can step outside of yourself and into her just by sitting in a darkened dressing...
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but as the days, and still more particularly the lonely evenings, dragged along, he found himself, to his moral consternation, to be thinking more of her instead of thinking less of her, and experiencing a fearful bliss in doing what was erratic, informal, and unexpected. surrounded by her influence all day, walking past the spots she frequented, he was always thinking of her, and was obliged to...
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listening to the pride and prejudice soundtrack
reading pride and prejudice
alone in my dorm room
here’s the deal: NO ONE. no one. [NOT EVEN YOU] is ruining my day. sorry.
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drunk.
also: http://www.youtube.com/user/RamsHeadStanford?feature=watch
what even WAS tonight?!
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“Art always says “and yet!” to life.”
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uh oh
losing it losing it losingitlosingit
also- i have to read the bible for my humanities class?
whiskey business.
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