(via organized-clutter)
Hotels and motels have always struck me as incredible arenas of possibility. This has been true, even if I was checking in to one alone. I like the feeling (or the illusion) that I am completely off the grid, anonymous and unfindable, like a fugitive. For a long time the most important quality in a hotel room was, for me, that it was a hotel room…. What every hotel room has in common is the erotics of a blank slate.
- Thomas Beller, from “Love, Hotel Style”
(via organized-clutter)
Spiralling Sunday, an original by me!!!! <3
Check it out yo
Look at my talented friend yo guys
I suspect that the curious personality merging you see in really close young-girl friendships can only be achieved under very particular circumstances. You must be at that point of adolescence where you’re only half-formed, as a person, but you feel fully formed. At twelve, you are so far from who you’re going to be, but in your mind you’re all the way there. Your opinions are intractably strong and you would die for them, but they’ll all be completely different in a month. The entire course of your life can be altered by a movie or a song or a long conversation in the dead of night after you’re supposed to have gone to sleep. Everything you have in common feels magical, as though knowing all the words to “Born to Run” is a sign that your souls are intertwined, instead of a sign that both of your parents came of age in the 1970s. As you begin to sculpt yourself into the person you want to be—the person you believe deep down you have always been, were always destined to be, and have only just now discovered—someone is there to hold your hand. When that happens, there is a part of you that never lets go.
Seven hours to go to an exam which I am wholly unprepared for. This seems to happen at least once every exam season - L and I stay up cramming because we were too busy dicking around all the days before. Today I wrote three paragraphs of a story about a table and felt too tired to go on. Sometimes I think I should have been born a dust mite.
(via fallingover)
