Sick of my hair, sick of myself, sick of being too chicken to take my new prescription, sick of my tattoo looking shitty while it heals, sick of working somewhere where people yammer on about their diets and are way too fucking loud, sick of not believing in myself or anyone else.
Today I want to shave my head. Gonna listen to Liz Phair instead.
Food still seems a bit Much but I’m keeping it down! And burping instead of vomiting!
Spent most of last night throwing up? I haven’t been stomach sick in almost a decade. I forgot how weird and terrible it feels. I feel much, much better now, just a little achey and skin-sore. But I can keep down water! Which is really all I want right now.
I guess I’m just super grateful to all my theatre peeps for checking in on me and offering to drive me home and bringing me bottles of water and not resenting me for having to abandon my usher post. I have found an enclave of really good folks in Frederick. I am very lucky, in spite of feeling gross.
Also a shout out to my awesome dad who drive to Frederick at midnight to pick me up and kept me company while I threw up over the side of a guardrail on the highway! Best dad award.
& she’ll heal quite nicely.
Today is going to be wonderful.
I can feel it.
“I reached that odd point when you are no longer young, and yet you’re still not old. You become a kind of centaur: half the person you used to be, half somebody else; that point when there is more you do not care about and less and less you do - you are in no man’s land; you keep moving, but not because you will get anywhere.”
—Benjamin Prado from Not Only Fire (via gravellyrun)
NYT: What books are you embarrassed not to have read yet?
TEJU COLE: I have not read most of the big 19th — century novels that people consider “essential,” nor most of the 20th-century ones for that matter. But this does not embarrass me. There are many films to see, many friends to visit, many walks to take, many playlists to assemble and many favorite books to reread. Life’s too short for anxious score-keeping. Also, my grandmother is illiterate, and she’s one of the best people I know. Reading is a deep personal consolation for me, but other things console, too.”
I just wrote a really impassioned and articulate cover letter that turned into an essay and it probably won’t get me hired but it was important for me to write anyway.
“I want this one moment. It’s what I want in a relationship, which might explain why I’m single now. It’s kind of hard to- It’s that thing when you’re with someone and you love them and they know it, and they love you and you know it- But it’s a party! And you’re both talking to other people, and you’re laughing and shining, and you look across the room and catch each other’s eyes. But not because you’re possessive or it’s precisely sexual, but because that is your person in this life. And it’s funny and sad but only because this life will end. And it’s this secret world that exists right there, in public, unnoticed that no one knows about. It’s sort of like how they say that other dimensions exist all around us but we don’t have the ability to perceive them? That’s what I want out of a relationship or just life, I guess.”
—Frances Ha (via saintofsass)
I miss wearing an alb and sweating anxiously as I carry the cross and reading Scripture and lighting candles and helping to distribute ashes and singing hymns. I miss Cristina talking me through things and tying my alb for me. She was endlessly compassionate when I deserved anything but. I miss the Sunday school kiddos and Zachary from the day school and tutoring the Govans kids.
Sitting in the car, humming Royals and Let It Go interchangeably, over and over, a mouth blanket. Bag of literal worms on the floor. I’m going to name my daughters Flannery and Tig. Thinking about hair, tarot, stage managing, tattoos, over and over, a loop. I need to write with my hands. I need to make a list of the things rattling around inside of my head.