Go after her.
Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.
The Age of Internet Innocence
I found this unpublished blog entry that was intended for the startup website I used to work for while sifting through my old files.
It’s hard to pinpoint the precise event that sparked my love affair with the internet. I’ve never been adept at recounting history—even, or perhaps especially, when it’s my own. If I were to make an attempt at zeroing in on the clearest, earliest recollection I have of my encounters with the online world, I would trace it back to sometime in high school.
Fear not.
There are betrayals in war that are childlike compared with our human betrayals during peace. The new lover enters the habit of the other. Things are smashed, revealed in new light. This is done with nervous and tender sentences, although the heart is an organ of fire.
A love story is not about those who lose their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing—not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.
“At Constant Speed” by Gemma Hayes
A lonely burden rests gently
This is harder than I thought
Your face is distant and paler now
“Some Boys” by Death Cab For Cutie
Some boys are sleeping, some boys are sleeping alone
Cause there’s no one that’s keeping them warm through evening
They know that they’re on their own
Some boys don’t know how to love
Future boyfriend peg.
“This is a song about a feeling that lasts about as long as the song does.”
This beautifully executed advocacy video got me all teary-eyed. Visit their website here.
“I Never Knew” by Sarah Blasko
Oh hey head, here’s a nail.
- Head: Just throw those out.
- Heart: I can't.
- Head: You don't need them anymore.
- Heart: I'll throw them out when I'm really ready to.
- Head: Just do it. There's no point in keeping them anymore.
- Heart: Fuck you.
Found relics and wishful thinking.
I now realize why I put off sorting through the pile of junk beside my bed all these months.
*sigh*
Filled with