20-year-old Sylvia Plath in 1953 (source).
Billie Holiday, photographed by William Gottlieb, between 1946 and 1948 (source).
"Me and my sister at angels knoll in downtown Los Angeles" (source).
Some days are bittersweet, but hope can be a magical thing. I look forward to days that are almost two months away. I don't have very much money to my name at all. I've been writing secretly about old sad days, hoping to give up the memories, hoping to scrub them away as if with a coarse sponge. I'm nearing the end of reading the Harry Potter series for the first time and I know I'll feel slightly empty inside once it's over. I'm loving the openness of my future while simultaneously fearing it. I'm loving my friends and the people I hope to meet one day. I love, and sometimes retreat from, the enthusiasm of others. Blue skies and grey skies are equally appreciated. I will always be mystified by and half-in-love-with PJ Harvey.
- The thoughtfulness and care shown by a friend who made me dinner last week.
- Packing. I love packing. The organization of it makes me feel at ease.
- Drinking enough water.
- Listening to my old CD copy of the Gilmore girls soundtrack.
- The Red Brigade.
- The sweet potato hand pies I made from Pie in the Sky.
- Sirus Black a.k.a. Padfoot.
- Carrie Brownstein's new American Express commercial. Dreamy. Also: the fact that she was on the SNL series finale!
- This BRILLIANT tea calendar.
- The Shawn Carter Foundation.
- Falling asleep and waking up early.
- Planting flowers. Getting dirt under your fingernails.
- Big breakfasts, always. Homemade veggie burgers, always.
- Being purge-free for the greater part of the last year and a half.
- My wife's fight with breast cancer (BEWARE: it's tear-inducing).
- Drinking hot tea on the front porch with the cool morning air.