fall makes me FEEL FEELINGS. leaves falling and cosy sweaters and knitting and baking and warm coffee while looking through fogging windows and writing at my desk with my beta fish mark wahlberg (because he is fighty - get it) inspires a sense of both independence and a longing for companionship. i love doing these things - i am happy doing these things - but i love them so much i would like to...
one of my favorite artists. this song is haunting. best of wistful canadiana.
Loneliness adds beauty to life. It puts a special burn on sunsets and makes...– Henry Rollins (via ikilledjackjohnson)
Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.– Allen Ginsberg (via rivulet)
the decemberists - january hymn →
right click to download this song is either hindering or helping. it’s been weaving in and out of my thoughts all summer, breathing snowflakes into sunlight, and now that fall is really here it preoccupies me wholly with still nights, woodsmoke, the huff of breath into cold air as heavy snow goes flying. anyway. even if you’re not feeling the damp,...
on this grey-eyed morning i am dreaming loneliness away.
rain is running from underneath the brim of my hat on nights with clear skies. loving you is like biking in stilettos, i am always catching my heels — skidding my wheels. i am running backwards on train tracks, hiding from moonlight. loving you is harder than picking blooms at midnight. just, nothing’s open.
Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via modernhepburn)
Words matter. They are our primary means of negotiating the space between...– Daren Rosenwasser and Jill Stephens
leaving the ferry terminal
her: hey, do you remember when we sat here for, like, six hours on the way to soundwave? me: yeah, and you put pink dreadlocks in my hair and i made you an abalone tiara? … our friendship is magical.
i am returning from a weekend at a cabin on keats island, drinking bad coffee on the ferry while nursing a scalding sunburn and reading sex at dawn. my two days were packed with dark, rocky beaches drenched in salt water and sun, breasts bare under the blue sky while beers sweated their way to warmth in my picnic basket. long, dry grass slipped underfoot at hawk’s nest, the island’s...
when you are biking and the sunset curves far, both away and toward you at the same time, world dim through your sunglasses and wind ribboning your hair, and you think: just this.