Not Forever. Just for Now.

writer + reader + cook + barista + critical thinker + southern history and culture enthusiast + Virginian / Floridian + tattooed-lady + bitter college graduate

You love in sin; you can’t live on it.

—Wild Palms by William Faulkner

'You and me sitting here, right now, this is one of the most insidious things poetry has to combat. General education has made it too easy for everybody to have an opinion on it. On everything else, too. The only people who should be allowed to have an opinion on poetry should be poets. But as it is- But then, all artists have to suffer it, though: oblivion and scorn and indignation and, what is worse, adulation of fools'

'And,' added the Semitic man, 'what is still worse: talk.'

—William Faulkner

mpdrolet:

Self-portrait, 1985
Allen Ginsberg

mpdrolet:

Self-portrait, 1985

Allen Ginsberg

Today I

  • visited a grave
  • thought about all the mothers who helped me along the way
  • thought about all the mothers who didn’t help me along the way
  • sat in the sunshine in my apartment and worked
  • watered my plants
  • worked so hard
  • did something nice

TBT

I made this list before I moved back to Staunton three years ago :: 

  • Get an apartment (Range: $200 - $500)
  • Get a job (something that you love- or at least something that allots you time to do what you love).
  • Conserve: time, money, attention, and-most importantly- your heart.
  • Get financially stable (start paying back loans).
  • Spend more time at the library. Read the New Yorker every week.
  • Come up with an Artistic Integrity Plan (come up with a better name for Artistic Integrity Plan).
  • Get involved with people other than the Baja and the coffee shop.
  • Steer clear of the program and the actors- steer clear of Shakespeare in general.
  • Evolve socially.
  • Cut down on visits to the Baja and the coffee shop. No drinking alone unless necessary for writing.
  • Go to more events. Don’t be scared or intimidated. There will always be someone there whom you will have met or whom will go with you.
  • Please keep writing. Let others read it.
  • Old habits do die hard. Bury and forget them.

 Specific Details

  • Late June
  • Finding “love” is not an important part of this plan.
  • Stop fucking up.
  • Don’t be an asshole.
  • Remember.

Today I

  • fixed breakfast 
  • listened to bluesmen named “Junior” 
  • agreed with Junot Diaz
  • thought about the Lynchburg // James River Oil Spill
  • sat warmly in my office 
  • submitted (for publication).

Today I

  • got up at 6:15 to make eight pounds of pimento cheese
  • worked so hard
  • felt underappreciated
  • will drink so many mint juleps
  • worked on my website. 

THIS WEEK I

  • Called You Back
  • participated in a talk about translation at Black Swan Books
  • continued to design my new website (no yet!)
  • dreamed of Jessica Hische's design talents 
  • drank the most beautiful cappuccino at Can Can in Richmond
  • was constantly inspired by Nelly Kate
  • made sauteed fennel / baby greens / green apple / balsamic reduction + baked cauliflower / parmesan cheese + sliver of drunken goat cheese + toast! for my friends
  • lost my job
johndarnielle:

it crests my dashboard and I feel something I can’t name or describe except that it’s awesome and humbling, and I remember the person I wrote the song about; and I think, your story has spoken to so many, in places so far and wide
to survive is to leave a legacy of hope

me, too

johndarnielle:

it crests my dashboard and I feel something I can’t name or describe except that it’s awesome and humbling, and I remember the person I wrote the song about; and I think, your story has spoken to so many, in places so far and wide

to survive is to leave a legacy of hope

me, too

(Source: cheesekills)

#fogged #windows #mint

#fogged #windows #mint

Small

1.

"Sometimes I wish I hadn’t turned away."

"But both of us can’t explode our lives."

1A) 

"I wish you hadn’t turned away."

"But we’ve already exploded our lives so many times."

2. 

I wish it were as hot as it was that day when we ran into the waves of the St. Augustine beach and I slept while you flew your Chinese kite.

3. 

I have forgotten the words in the dust on the windows of the unremembered souvenir shop along that narrow vein of a highway in Florida.

4.

Your knuckles bleed. The boys ran off. We’re left alone in the 3am air- touched only by the asphalt and the spanish moss that gropes for us.