I just got yelled at for trying to take a picture of a picture of my niece at the picture place. I’m annoyed mostly because I had to use the word picture that many times and also because the lady was kind of an asshole.
My friend has been telling me not to blow it but I’m constantly over thinking everything that’s happened and now I can’t stop thinking about how I probably already blew it and fuck, someone tell me how to get out of my head.
Guys, it’s hard to explain the awkwardness of last night without getting into real details but let me just say that I was at the bar hanging out with my best friend and the guy that I’ve been on some dates with recently, when this other dude that I met over a month ago (and never hung out with, btw) comes up to us SUPER drunk trying to talk and saying how Bonnie and I were hanging out with some good looking guys and that was cool then he walked away, and later when we were leaving in a cute “let’s walk out together” kind of way, drunk dude yelled, “Allie! You’re leaving just like that?” and all I could do was walk as quickly as possible past him and shrug my shoulders because what is my life even? These things don’t happen to me.
“I think it’s great for two people to be together. That is a good number. I think, that to keep it alive though, you can’t spend every day together. It wears out the magic, Love means nothing to me if it’s not fortified with fierce, painful longing, brief explosive instances of furious passion and intimacy and then a sad parting for a time. In that way, you can give your life to it and still have a life of your own. I think some couples spend too much time together. They flatten out the potential for experience by constant closeness. Passion builds over time like steam. Let it rage until it’s exhausted and then leave it alone to let it build up again. Why can’t love be insane and distorted? How can it be vital if it has the same threshold as normal day-to-day experience? Why can’t you write burning letters and let your nocturnal self smolder with desire for one who is not there? Why not let the days before you see her be excruciating and ferment in your mind so on the day you go to the airport to pick her up, you’re nearly sick with anticipation? And then when desire shows the first sign of contentment, throw it back it its cage and let it slowly build itself back into a state of starved fury. Then when you are together, it all matters. So that when you look into her eyes, you lose your balance, so that when she touches you, it feels like you have never been touched before. When she says your name, you think it was she who named you. When she has gone, you bury your face in the pillow to smell her hair and you lie awake at night remembering your face in her neck, her breathing and the amazing smell of her skin. Your eyes go wet because you want her so bad and miss her so much. Now that is worth the miles and the time. That matches the inferno of life. Otherwise you poison each other with your presence day after day as you drag each other through the inevitable mundane aspects of your lives. That is the slow death that I see slapped on faces everywhere I go. It’s part of the world’s sadness that’s more empty than cold, poorly lit rooms in cities of the American night.”—Henry Rollins (via actioncityzoolife)
Currently, my bed is up against the window in my room and I don’t like to open it because I’m afraid Oliver will fall out. So, at 10pm I decided it was a good time to move my bed and my nightstand (which doesn’t sound bad, but there is an endless amount of shit underneath my bed, it’s awful) and try a new layout. But obviously it made my room feel too small and in order to make it really work I’ll have to move EVERYTHING around. Since that’s really not something I need to be getting into at 11pm, I had to move my bed and nightstand back to where they were originally and UGH at me for doing things.
I sometimes feel as though the very best people in this world were long ago scattered far and wide, as if some cosmic challenge was issued for them to wade through a lifetime of bullshit in order to find one another.