please don’t stop.
don’t stop until you’re drained,
until you feel like fruit in the sun
until the you in me is significant by volume
words
“And the weather was so damn sick of being predictable; I heard it began snowing in the Sahara and I wanted to tell you that I’ve changed.” – Lang Leav
“I still owe money to the money to the money I owe
I never thought about love when I thought about home
I still owe money to the money to the money I owe
The floors are falling out from everybody I know.”
(Made out in bed to this song recently with Ace. And, ugh, yes. It’s just one of those songs that always does it for me. It’s evocative – I tried to explain to her, though I didn’t really have the words – of this weird sort of present nostalgia. Like, this feeling that these are these particular moments, these particular days that I’ll remember with that sort of warmth. And the music just feels like bedsheets and soft light. It feels like drowning in another person. But also that feeling of looking around a room and realizing this is your life, these are your people, this is all your suffering and your energy and your joy. Of being young and broke and stupid. It feels like thrill and cockiness and bravery and the weird way things can feel casual and intense all at once when they’re new or when they’re ending, like they’re nothing and everything.)
The first time, in the hotel, your skin still smelled of chlorine. We wouldn’t let ourselves kiss. I couldn’t breathe all day.
The next time, in the guest room, you had to go and dare me. We slept exactly one hour at the bottom of the stairs.
The third time, in our friend’s bed, while she slept or showered. As quiet as we could be. I’m not as quick as you.
The last time is the last time. I don’t waste time on hoping. I don’t care what we promise. I just care what comes true.
Current status.
Or, attempting to make it my current status.
But being a grownup is haaaard.
Could you handle being defined
by a little science experiment in which
we throw a million ideas at the wall
and take note of which ones stick?
This. Right now.
Except, not really in terms of looking at other people. More in terms of looking at myself, just myself, and thinking fuck it, I’d like to fall back in love with myself. I’m a goddess. Laurels and all.
Just click through and read it.
Some things.
StandardI apologize for my relative inactivity as of late, some things have cropped up lately that have kept me busy. Nothing bad and nothing major and I’ll eventually tackle the messages that have been accumulating in my inbox. I promise.
But, in the meanwhile…
- Don’t try ice play in the winter. Just don’t. Not unless wherever you are is well-heated. Otherwise, it’s a summer sport.
- A follower who requested to remain anonymous told me about something awesome and kinky that happened to her and called it an “Ivy moment”. So, uh, this is partially a call for you guys with vanilla tumblrs who don’t have places that you think you can talk about this stuff to go ahead and contact me. Because, listen, sometimes you just want to brag about something cool you did in private or you’ve got questions. Basically, I receive messages from vanilla tumblrs sometimes with this stuff (and always a request to answer privately) and I just wanted to let you guys know you’re safe here.
- Also, teehee, Ivy moments.
- On a more serious note, my prayers go out to the friends, family and Liege of a tumblr I really enjoyed reading, be-pleasing-always. Thank you for allowing us this look into your life and your relationship.
“The feeling of one who is in need and help comes, one who is happy not because he is saved – he is not saved – but rather because new, young people come, confident, ready to take up the struggle, ignorant, of course, of what stands before them, yet in an ignorance which does not cause the observer to lose hope but rather fills him with awe, with joy, with tears.” – Theodor W. Adorno, recalling Kafka in Prisms.
That guy from my frat actually just asked me if I’ve ever heard of Feminist Ryan Gosling. Seriously?
So, I had no issue bullying him a little. Because I think it’s been too long since I bullied him. And because I think he deserves it.