we drove in silence across pont champlain.
blurbs.
Marianne: (n.) perpetually frenetic
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October 10, 2014
My goodness, how I loved that bright yellow tent.

My goodness, how I loved that bright yellow tent.

(Source: boite-de-pandore)

September 8, 2014
Today was rough. Time to get lost in these pages.

Today was rough. Time to get lost in these pages.

August 10, 2014
thebunnymachine:

Done today in one session! I love my customers.

thebunnymachine:

Done today in one session! I love my customers.

(via ionizeandatomize)

July 23, 2014
hitrecord:

“Steam”

hitrecord:

Steam

(Source: theriverjordyn, via emilycee)

July 19, 2014
A great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading.
William Styron (via observando)

(via bookshelves)

Last night, we found a DeLorean and an epic sunset found us.

Last night, we found a DeLorean and an epic sunset found us.

July 16, 2014
🎂🍀👌

🎂🍀👌

July 11, 2014
July 4, 2014
the echo.

He mentioned the fact that there’s always more than one way to write something and now I’m paralyzed by that thought. Write and revise. Reminds me of the Sylvia Plath quote that mentions the tendency to overexaggerate or downplay parts of a story to the point where it’s no longer the truth. The past is just a story we tell ourselves.

I began this post with the intention of penning a story that starred his two old friends, Denis and Mary. The color with how he painted this couple was nothing short of magic. As the music and smoke from the patrons’ cigarettes danced around us, an overwhelming heartache overtook me. His story came to a close and I buried my face in his chest and cried, it was so beautiful. The fact that their love story touched him enough to memorialize it on his body as a tattoo speaks volumes about his heart. I want to keep the details of their story to myself. I suppose it can be seen as selfish, especially since I waxed poetic about writing to preserve memories, but it’s not my story to share. It was a beautiful and tender moment and I want to keep it forever.

buffoonery:

kadrey:

Haruki Murakami Bingo

"Urban Ennui"

buffoonery:

kadrey:

Haruki Murakami Bingo

"Urban Ennui"

(via songswithoutamelody)

July 3, 2014
found novelty.

Once in a while, I find myself perusing this old account. Blog buddies of mine from back in the day have deactivated their accounts for one reason or another, perhaps from something so simple as growing older and seeing their mundane lives as not being blog-worthy. I don’t know.

I will never delete this. I’m a Memory Hoarder and a freakin’ sap. If I am unable to one day remember all these adventures, I would be more than thrilled to live vicariously through my words by reading this.

I’ve challenged myself to a stream-of-consciousness challenge. One ditty a day for however long it takes for me to feel like I have a good grasp of my voice once more. I will never classify myself as a Writer. To do so would imply that I know what I’m doing, a sort of pompous attitude that I would never attribute to myself. I write for the simple joy and release of putting Pen to Paper. It will never get old, despite my occassional absence. What can I say? It’s the Twins in me. My Gemini quality of tackling every creative project at the same time and never finishing. Abandoning for the sake of boredom. But I always come back. It’s a curse, really.

June 12, 2013

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate…