Missy Dunaway
For a while this month I slept on a mattress on the floor, the room bare, the pieces of my new apartment still unassembled. A few weeks later, I still lack most basic furniture, but the point is: I have enough pots and pans to cook a big pasta dinner with roasted tomatoes for my friends, who will gamely set up beach chairs in the living room and drink Trader Joe's wine and come running when I set something on fire. The walls are bare and the cabinets are mostly vacant but slowly I'm filling the space with my books and plants and hangers. I bought a chair that I love. I'm reading again (picking up with Dorothy Allison's gritty, poetic Trash). I'm settling into the rhythms of my job. There's a story I'm working on that I love. I sweep the floors.
The point is some kind of permanence. The point is there's no rush at all.
Lately:
Kurt Vonnegut writes to his daughter: "You’re learning now that you do not inhabit a solid, reliable, social structure – that the older you get people around you are worried, moody, goofy human beings who themselves were little kids only a few days ago. So home can fall apart and schools can fall apart, usually for childish reasons, and what have you got? A space wanderer named Nan."
Disney for the sad.
"When you live alone, the droop of plant leaves, a black sock pocking out of my blue dresser, or an avocado that ripened overnight, all this stuff provides a rare, brief harmony: the consolidation of my things, all mine, in a space befit for staring off as I skirmish with a sentence on my screen or wait for water to boil. The only person who might interrupt my thoughts is me."
The best cooking advice ever! is really pretty good.
The loose threads, the strange dreams, the forgettings and misrememberings.
Little things: Neon Chinatown / Soppy / A story is not like a road to follow / Tim Gunn's Sunday routine / Illustrated ladies / One day in rural Florida / Sports goth in an old Nike ad / Photos from Kruger National Park / Great journalism / Good tweet / Sweetcakes, God said / Landscapes / A gamechanging bra company / Nine years of painting in a sketchbook.
Matthew Weiner on Mad Men's many elevator scenes. I've been spending late nights rewatching some choice old episodes.
Good journalism: Marathon / Are you man enough for the men's rights movement? / Mary Cain is growing up fast / Fury entered here / The pale glow of a brighter day / Human props stay in luxury homes but live like ghosts.
"We need to stop labeling our sadness and anxiety as uncomfortable symptoms, and to appreciate them as a healthy, adaptive part of our biology." Medicating women's feelings.
Apartments, one and two.
Females are strong as hell.
The death of the American newsroom, in pictures.
Expensive, exhausting and deeply unsexy: babymaking while queer.
"I hope you all find yourselves sleeping with someone you love, maybe not all of the time, but a lot of the time. The touch of a foot in the night is sincere. I hope you like your work, I hope there’s mystery and poetry in your life — not even poems, but patterns. I hope you can see them. Often those patterns will wake you up, and you will know that you are alive, again and again." -- Eileen Myles, The Importance of Being Iceland
The point is some kind of permanence. The point is there's no rush at all.
Lately:
Kurt Vonnegut writes to his daughter: "You’re learning now that you do not inhabit a solid, reliable, social structure – that the older you get people around you are worried, moody, goofy human beings who themselves were little kids only a few days ago. So home can fall apart and schools can fall apart, usually for childish reasons, and what have you got? A space wanderer named Nan."
Disney for the sad.
"When you live alone, the droop of plant leaves, a black sock pocking out of my blue dresser, or an avocado that ripened overnight, all this stuff provides a rare, brief harmony: the consolidation of my things, all mine, in a space befit for staring off as I skirmish with a sentence on my screen or wait for water to boil. The only person who might interrupt my thoughts is me."
The best cooking advice ever! is really pretty good.
The loose threads, the strange dreams, the forgettings and misrememberings.
Little things: Neon Chinatown / Soppy / A story is not like a road to follow / Tim Gunn's Sunday routine / Illustrated ladies / One day in rural Florida / Sports goth in an old Nike ad / Photos from Kruger National Park / Great journalism / Good tweet / Sweetcakes, God said / Landscapes / A gamechanging bra company / Nine years of painting in a sketchbook.
Matthew Weiner on Mad Men's many elevator scenes. I've been spending late nights rewatching some choice old episodes.
Good journalism: Marathon / Are you man enough for the men's rights movement? / Mary Cain is growing up fast / Fury entered here / The pale glow of a brighter day / Human props stay in luxury homes but live like ghosts.
"We need to stop labeling our sadness and anxiety as uncomfortable symptoms, and to appreciate them as a healthy, adaptive part of our biology." Medicating women's feelings.
Apartments, one and two.
Females are strong as hell.
The death of the American newsroom, in pictures.
Expensive, exhausting and deeply unsexy: babymaking while queer.
"I hope you all find yourselves sleeping with someone you love, maybe not all of the time, but a lot of the time. The touch of a foot in the night is sincere. I hope you like your work, I hope there’s mystery and poetry in your life — not even poems, but patterns. I hope you can see them. Often those patterns will wake you up, and you will know that you are alive, again and again." -- Eileen Myles, The Importance of Being Iceland
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