“Comparison steals our joy. We dwell in urban places where self-consciousness reigns and assessment runs high. The only place we’re completely removed from under (or behind) the microscope is when we immerse ourselves in nature and leave the mirror of society behind. I can’t recall when I’ve looked at a sycamore in autumn and wondered why the leaves weren’t more orange, or why the foliage wasn’t just a bit slimmer. Lumpy clouds are just as welcome as wispy ones, and though I curse the raccoon as he’s rummaging through my trash, I don’t question why his eyes are so close together or berudge him for his slender wrists.”
— Julie Pointer, Natural Judgment
7:38 pm • 29 September 2014 • 1 note
“A black sheep toughens up. Survival means learning to love what others deride. We may seem game and self-confident, but it’s resilency won from rejection, from being the weirdos always picked last for kickball, the ones who talked too loudly, quoted Charles Bukowski, read Dorothy Allison, clowned for the spotlight or shriveled up when called on in class. Looking back now, we can see how those who took the safe path often envy us, the risk-takers. So let’s raise a toast to creativity and quirks, to weirdness and bliss, to all the sheep of so many colors for carving out corners of beautiful oddity.”
— Stephanie Rosenbaum Klassen, Going Against the Grain for Kinfolk Magazine
5:27 pm • 29 September 2014 • 3 notes
||Your Snapchats are very avant garde.
||I don't know about that.
||What does that mean again?
||They look a bit experimental.
||That's my style.
4:24 pm • 29 September 2014 • 2 notes
Love Notes by Mia Nguyen
Hey guys! I’m starting a Tiny Letter with rambles, pictures, and quotes. I will try to send one to your inbox at least once a week. Please subscribe if you feel so inclined.
4:10 pm • 29 September 2014 • 2 notes
“The greatest art seems secreted, not constructed.”
— Susan Sontag
3:42 pm • 29 September 2014 • 2 notes
The past is done now. (at The Last Bookstore)
9:05 pm • 24 September 2014
Getting Married Is Easy by Elizabeth Wurtzel.
12:20 pm • 24 September 2014 • 1 note
“You believed you could transcend the body as you aged, she tells herself. You believed you could rise above it, to a serene, nonphysical realm. But it’s only through ecstasy you can do that, and ecstasy is achieved through the body itself. Without the bone and sinew of wings, no flight. Without that ecstasy you can only be dragged further down by the body, into its machinery. Its rusting, creaking, vengeful, brute machinery.”
— Margaret Atwood
1:12 am • 24 September 2014 • 7 notes