| Lady Windermere: | You needn't be afraid; I never cry. |
| Duchess of Berwick: | That's quite right, dear. Crying is the refuge of plain women, but the ruin of pretty ones. |
Little snippets of what's charming in my world, and working to make your's charmed as well.
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Charming Earth
Charming Earth
My parents had tacos for dinner tonight. As I scooped refried beans, I whispered to myself: “Comida gigante” means never having to say you’re sorry.”
Language relies on craft, correct use, and context. This is what makes it so difficult to master. Well-crafted writings and speeches can sway the heart, poor writings and speeches can hurt the brain. Language is the key to identity, and this key opens to a world where people are judged by what they say, how they say it, and why they say it, rather that on what they do.
Anonymous asked: Is that picture from the Sunken Gardens?
Yes, hence the Sunken Garden tag.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Milonga al sur (al Piazolla)- Silvestre Fonseca/Filipa Andrade- Guitarra Clássica
“The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.”
— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
This is so stupid: I was on TV for literally twenty seconds and I keep re-watching and re-watching and scrutinizing and thinking all of these really stupid insecure thoughts about the way I looked, and the way I sang, and the way I played, and what I said.
The very first shot they broadcasted live as a preview was my face spouting off some nonsense about songwriting, or music, or some other profundity, then a cut to commercials. In the two minute commercial break, I sat, horrified at my awkward puffy face and my perpetually greasy hair in bright cable color and tried to justify why I’d looked so rough and hadn’t reapplied any makeup and looked like I’d risen from a very shallow grave. Sure, it had been a long day, but was it really so long that I couldn’t have tried a little harder to look like I wanted to make a better impression?
As though maybe if I had actually taken the time that day to wear a nicer shirt and if only this weren’t the one day in my life where I was actually wearing jeans rather than dress pants of an albeit ill-fitting skirt and maybe if I hadn’t cracked my way through singing that day because my voice was choppy and sore and maybe if I’d cut my nails I wouldn’t have fumbled over the keys so much and maybe if I hadn’t been so facetious in my comments and treated the whole process as a joke the interviewer would have been able to show me saying some thoughtful statement rather than needing to cut me off mid-sentence.
Which is ridiculous because most of these things are totally irrelevant and I completely realize I’m the only person who will think this way, and the only person who would notice the missteps that led up to the twenty seconds of me on a local news program that probably only me and dad were the only two people to see air live.
You may lose your way, and it may drive you crazy, but don’t let it faze you, no way.
Someday, it’ll all turn around.
fuckyeaharchergifs asked: I love you for that x
I wish I had a bearclaw for every person who said they loved me.
Then I’d have four and a half bearclaws.
I will always remember the seven numbers that correspond to your mobile phone, and the five numbers that correspond to your street address. I will always remember the three numbers that correspond to the day, and the twenty-six numbers that correspond to steps on a staircase where we met in a dark corner.
I will always remember the striped blue shirt, white denim shorts, and white sandals I wore, and I will remember the shiny black rim of your glasses and the sharp crease of your orange, ironed shirt. I always will remember your stupid, sheepish smile when you laughed at my joke, and I will always remember how long and blond my hair was and how it smelled like peroxide and sunshine when you ran your fingers through it.
I will always remember the warmth of May, of your lips, of your hands, and I will remember the cold of the metal bars against my back, of the stares of others, of loneliness in the aftermath.
I will always remember, but who cares? Everyone else has already forgotten.
“I’m a big sinking ship laying on its side and nobody knows what to do with me.”
— Sisterwolf, at godammit
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Chris Zabriskie, “John Stockton Slow Drag”
Thank you Nick for using this artist.
http://www.chriszabriskie.com/
