adk

adk

for a solid couple of weeks now, nothing has brought me more joy than this song and video. when he stomps while singing “i want surprises”!!!

I am a melancholy person. I’ve been through some tough shit. So the second that I find myself with nothing to do, all of that comes back. I have been bragging to my friends that since I’ve been in New York, I haven’t cried once—and I am such a crier, always the weeping willow. So I am in awe of how busy I am here. I can be dark and morose, but as long as I stay occupied, I am okay. Work is better than anything else I have tried. I’ve done yoga, and cognitive behavioral therapy, and Risperdal to get my mind to work——and the only thing that works is distraction. The band, and the record label, and the book, and the friendships, and the writing, and the film, and the photography, and the baking, and even silly things like modeling for friends are all the same furious attempt to run faster than the devil. Everything is an attempt to keep the darkness away.
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Meredith Graves’ Race with the Devil - Adult Mag

"Work is better than anything else" — truth.

Thinking every day about the time when, before my first major bakery event, my mom said, “You better make sure everything is perfect or you’re gonna end up in a straitjacket.” 

official album of fall, of adulthood, of feeling another birthday coming coming coming
official album of fall, of adulthood, of feeling another birthday coming coming coming

official album of fall, of adulthood, of feeling another birthday coming coming coming

why do i love music so much if every day music makes me cry because i feel so strongly toward it? if i loved a person like this, would i die?

happy birthday.

Getting myself to a place—mentally, emotionally, ecclesiastically*—where I do justice to the importance of this song, video, album, duo to my life.


*This is a joke reference to Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. 

when you eat ramen with justin, you’ll hear about kant, the sexiness of skull faces, and the possibility of deep-frying spherical  alcohol
when you eat ramen with justin, you’ll hear about kant, the sexiness of skull faces, and the possibility of deep-frying spherical  alcohol

when you eat ramen with justin, you’ll hear about kant, the sexiness of skull faces, and the possibility of deep-frying spherical alcohol

parenthetical programming note

(My shit comes out sounding so solemn over here when, really, all I wanna do is be real but also funny even when I’m being totally crazy and getting into the feelings, but for whatever reason I like pouring my little brain out in this forum because it allows me to see what shit I should be focusing on in the longer, private-r writings—like, where are my preoccupations when I just thought-vom?—but also share, because why not.)

You’ll wake up in a foul mood, in a bed that’s not your own. At the bus stop, wearing leopard pants and giant platforms, you’ll scroll through Instagram. There’s the griddle you picked out at Macy’s a couple of years ago. It has pancakes on it. There’s a pan in which you’ve made food countless times on one of the other burners. You’re in leopard pants at a bus stop on a Sunday morning and there’s the heavy cast-iron cookware that no longer belongs to you, on a stove somewhere on Long Island. Things that belong to you can one day no longer be yours. You started over with no plates, a few bowls, three forks—not good enough for a dinner party, but you can’t have one anyway because you no longer have a table that unfolds for a feast. You found this liberating, knowing you’d one day have plates again, until it caught you while you were in leopard pants at a bus stop on a Sunday morning.

Update: Then your former local Williams-Sonoma calls to invite you to Customer Appreciation Day.