Yeah, it was pretty sweet - and I love the smell of books.. and beer.Joshua Nguyen on Friday night’s event (via housingworksbookstore)
Virginia Woolf’s Italian manuscript notebook, June 7, 1916. (Smith College.)
I have always tried to live in an ivory tower, but a tide of shit is beating at its wallsFlaubert (via upperwestsidestyleblog)
my man (stage name) dimi dos noise once wrote a note to me “Strange life, strange world, strange big city, me and you and friends.” it was on a white board by our door. it was when we first moved to the south bronx, gritty and “uncivilized,” the poorest neighborhood in america, everyone a junky crackhead alcoholic welfare mom who give their babies soda in their bottles, living together for the first time, and we could already tell that nothing was going right there (didn’t think it would end in a massive fire, but still, wasn’t going right)… he just made it into a song, and i think it’s the best song he’s written: “strange world strange city me and you and friends strange world strange city me and you and friends strange world strange city me and you and friends ah ah ahhhh ahhhhh” sometimes i feel really bad for the weird/shitty/drunk things i used to do and im actually very sorry to a lot of people for them just felt like saying it somewhere
Sometimes I think we live through things only to be able to say that it happened. That it wasn’t to someone else, it was to me. Sometimes we live to beat the odds.
The important thing in life is to believe that while you’re alive, it’s never too late. I promise you…no matter how bad things look, they look better awake than they do asleep. When you die, there’s only one thing you want to happen. You wanna come back.
The Jacket (via becdee)
most of the things i do are to beat the odds. you say i can’t/won’t/will fail? fuck you. no i won’t.
-full of good words
-full of essay writing and revising
-and PLEASE let nothing get in the way accomplishing what i need to accomplish
thats my little prayer for this weekend
Manuscripts don’t burn.even in the bronx
sun is out after snow there are files everywhere in my home in my bag at my work
it’s me i have my perfect new room my little writing oasis and i am so so happy tonight