Here are some things I have learned about myself in the last two weeks:
I am extraordinarily, disgustingly jealous.
I love emojis.
The only way I can calm down enough to sleep at night is by thinking about the dogs I saw during the day and making up short stories about their lives.
“I finished ______ and I started ______ but I think I might need to read something not about murder.”
“WHAT ISN’T ABOUT MURDER THOUGH.”
Should I start putting stuff here again y/n?
MY EARTHQUAKE NARRATIVE
A freshwater fish tank fell into my bed. The water woke me up, and I wondered for a brief second if I’d had some kind of accident (I had not). I heard my father, whose bedroom was separated from mine by the living room, screaming my name in a way I’d never heard before and sincerely hope never to hear again.
To get to each other, we had to cross through the path of another fish tank (to the question of “what the fuck were you thinking with all those goddamned fish?” I have still not received a satisfactory answer), this one filled with saltwater. It had shattered and getting cut was inevitable—my tiny eight-year-old feet and shins didn’t register the actual slicing of flesh, just the sting of salt and a new sticky sensation I didn’t know at the time was my own blood.
We made it, somehow, to the doorway (“get to a doorframe” was something we smugly recited when our third-grade teacher quizzed us on earthquake safety at the beginning of the school year).
what I mostly remember is dead fish. Slimy, smelly dead fish. Clown fish, mostly, but also guppies, angel fish, beta fish, maybe—oh, God—an eel? They were in all the bedsheets. Between the couch cushions. Every time I thought I’d identified a safe section of carpet, I’d feel one between my toes. There was an outbreak of something the news called “Valley fever”, something related to toxic dust in the air.
I was more afraid of the fish than the fever.
Hambone is hot stuff! #threecorgis #corgi #cute #love
This is the most important video I have ever seen.
The only things I want to keep from 2013 are Spring Breakers and The Wolf of Wall Street.
"I wondered the other day what feminists of the second wave might have done with Farrah. Would they have pointed to her, to the video, as proof of why pornography is not, cannot be good for women? For in addition to seeing her give birth, we also saw another side of Farrah’s life on MTV. In her episode of “16 & Pregnant,” her mother slaps her, hard. Between the first and second seasons of “Teen Mom,” police were called to the Abraham’s Iowa home when Farrah’s mother threatened her with a pair of kitchen knives. During a visit to a counselor, we see Farrah admit that physical and emotional abuse was not a recent development but instead something she’d been dealing with her whole life. If Farrah Superstar doesn’t prove Andrea Dworkin’s thesis that pornography exploits already vulnerable young women, what does? It’s not hard to imagine Dworkin and her comrades turning Farrah into a modern-day Linda Lovelace, making the talk show rounds and leading protests outside Vivid’s headquarters.”
I wrote about Farrah Superstar: Backdoor Teen Mom for the Awl’s 2013 retrospective.