January 2011
http://hoarderseed.tumblr.com/
a blog that will be dedicated to my writing and artwork and who knows what
it’s for a class
hmmmm
30 day challenge was a no-go
internet access denied
who knows
oh hi i’m in chicago drinking beer life is a-okay
day 2 - where you'd like to be in 10 years
uh this is late
this is a weird question. i don’t really care if this does or doesn’t happen. it’s a fantasy. 10 years is far in the future. i’ll probably change a lot. you will too. ahhhh.
in 10 years i’d like to living in austin, texas or any other predominately liberal city that does not have winter. i’d like to have one graduate degree in literature and to be working on a second graduate degree in creative writing. i’d like to own a used bookstore, drink coffee every morning after my run, have copious amounts of sex with my boyfriend/husband and, if i’m single, not really care about the sex i’m missing and masturbate as much as possible.
i would also like to have a dog named asparagus and a turtle named henry. i will finally own ‘blonde on blonde’ on vinyl. i will have friends and be okay with my life and be okay with death and be accepting of everything i don’t know and all that stuff.
yeah.
I think you are a absolutely beautiful person inside and out. Your blog is incredible and I hope you have a wonderful day! I understand I must sound the like biggest creeper in history.
But I just thought I'd pop this in your ask anyway
oh goodness, not a creeper at all! this is very, very sweet and you are an absolute doll. thank you so much.
pc load letter
“Next to me, Cecil Rector leaned over and plucked at blades of grass. I thought of the Adirondacks, chill lakes of inverted timber, sash of blue snow across the mountains, the whispering presence of the things that filled my room. Far beyond the canvas blinds, on the top floor of the women’s dormitory, a figure stood by an open window. I thought of women. I thought of women in snow and rain, on mountains and in forests, at the end of long galleries immersed in the brave light of Rembrandts.”
—Don DeLillo, End Zone
“History is guilt,” he said. “It’s also the placement of bodies. What men say is relevant only to the point at which language moves masses of people or a few momentous objects into significant juxtaposition. After that is becomes almost mathematical. The placements take over. It becomes some sort of historical calculus. What you and I say this evening won’t add up to much. We’ll remember only where we sat, which way our feet pointed, at which angle our realities met. Whatever importance this evening might have is based on placements, relative positions, things like that. A million pilgrims face Mecca. Think of the power behind that fact. All turning now. And bending. And praying. History is the angle at which realities meet.”
—Don DeLillo, End Zone
