couples fighting

Couples fighting in the subway. I was in the train the other day. The subway cars in Stockholm are quite nice, lots of seats, there are no weird liquids or fluids.
you get seats quite often. My friend says there are weird smells but I can't smell them and I'm pretty sure they're coming from me.
Oh, couples fighting in the Subway, don't you see how lucky you are? You are both blonds and can wear skinny jeans without irony. Nobody else is paying attention to you, Swedes are too respectful/borderline autistic to notice, but I am. I am trying with no success to understand what you are fighting about.
Oh, couples fighting in the subway. Did he kiss someone else? Does she hate his mother? You fight in such a demure manner. And public transportation is the perfect setting, your audience (me) captive with no escape. The best kind of romantic comedy. Displaying your Swedish perfectness, the fact that you have someone to fight with, your bold, yet paradoxically measured, fashion choices. Will you kiss and make up in the end? Will you notice me, spying on you through the crowd and the raindrops dotting my glasses? 

So this happened today. Like two weeks ago I commented on some guy's (apparently holy) Facebook post about Obama and how he "sucks" or whatever. I said something to the effect that I thought commentary like that is not productive, unnecessarily inflammatory, and just lame. Then the "conversation" turned nastier. This guy is part of the #Occupy movement, which I totally not think is a good thing, for reasons and things. Mind you, I have seen this person not many times in my life, but we've been Facebook friends forever, I met him through a dear friend of mine. Last time I met him was over a year ago, under his insistence. He attended a college near mine. He never really bothered me, until he got #started on #occupy. He always posts pseudo political crap, like, the kind of of shit #americans who think they are relevant but aren't think is thought-provoking. Annoyed the living shit out of me. My news feed was flooded by his #occupy stuff, like "Oh I got arrested today, what a tyranny we live under!" Meanwhile, you got arrested for knowingly breaking the law. You're waisting your time, my time, the police's time, the government's time, and, less importantly, money. I do not think that is productive for fucking anyone. So, I hid his newsfeed. But somehow that comment/link about Obama popped up and I was having a shit day RE: patriarchy in general, so I responded. I guess my logic was too much for him to handle so he accused me of "not knowing anything", which is a sound argument anywhere. (I am guilty of using it sometimes, we all make mistakes.) I accused him, in turn, of not actually doing anything productive for anyone who is less fortunate than him, which, to be fair, I don't know if he does or not, but I highly doubt it. He says he #totally does and cited examples which are impossible to fact check.
The only times I have met this guy, he has been loud, obnoxious, and a weird mixture of a reactionary and a #liberal. He mansplains a lot. We hung out at Smith one time and my friends hated him. By how he treated one particular friend who somehow decided it would be a good idea to give him the time of the day, he has some #sexist issues to work through (relationships wise). Which, all tied together, lead me to believe he's full of shit.
Anyway, this complicated rant/prelude is to explain this following conversation that happened today:

He thusly responded just a couple of minutes ago, but I'm too tired to edit the picture or whatever. 

  • "If you really want to troll me on the internet go for it. Be sure to include the part where you, after not saying anything to me for years, felt the need to tell me off on my own Facebook page. Sorry if my existence upsets you, but for someone that is playing the race, sex, gender, card left and right, you certainly seem to be judging your fellow human being pretty Damn fast without asking any questions, and it seems your opinions of my life are based upon mainstream media conceptualizations... Which I would have thought would be something you, a righteous fighter of good, would be working to expose as a biased tool of the patriarchal system we live within. How dare you." (sic sic sic sic)

Apart from the excellent grammar and composition, it is funny that he says that my opinion of his life are based upon mainstream media conceptualizations  whatever he fucking means by that. It's funny because a couple of different things: I do not consume mainstream media, partly because I am not in the States, and it doesn't reach me that much. I actually am not aware of what #conceptualizations the main stream media has of #occupiers. (I also find it hilarious that he tosses around the term "mainstream media" just like the Republicans do. The term itself, what the fuck does it mean? It's one of those bullshit smoke-screen terms that rich people say and, depending of what side of the aisle they sit, the meaning changes) IF I had a conceptualization of him or his #peers influenced by media, it would be by feminist (and I would argue, not mainstream) sites like Jezebel, Autostraddle, or Feministing. These are basically all my news sources for American #happenings. 
Also funny, he seems to forget that I do know him, and I have talked to him extensively not that long ago. He is so righteous in his beliefs that he actually does not see his own privilege, yet insists all the time that he does. I wish you could see this dude, hear him speak, he is so aggressive, talks over people. As a friend said, he is an "obvious candidate for this cognitive dissonance". And not only obvious, but oblivious as well. I apparently need to engage in a war against this mainstream media thing because it's a "biased tool". How quaint! How reductive! How #black&white #americafuckyeah! The media is to blame? Oh shit, I can quit now, then. Setting aside the fact that I am a film student and I am very interested in how media works, where knowledge comes from, and the hierarchy of power that knowledge produces, I am not interested in debunking Fox News or CNN or #anyMajorNewspaper. Or whatever. Jon Stewart is my homie, but he is not the Messiah and I rather be making films. 
The dude has since unfriended me on Facebook. Like, 20 minutes ago. 



Okay so yeah. I am sorry for not writing sooner. But you know, things and reasons. I have no idea how to start a post of everything that's happened in the past five weeks, so I'm just gonna go with it and hope the narrative takes a shape on its own.
Week 1. On August 13th I left for Paris. I cried a whole lot in the airport and the day before as well. I was sick and had a fever (why not!). The people doing security check always seem so jaded by crying people. They must see that shit every day. I got to Paris the next day, and I took the train from CDG to Jess' house in Bastille. I had to change trains twice and go up and down, no exaggeration, 7 billion flights of stairs. When I got to wifey's house, I have rarely felt so happy.
I spent 10 days in Paris with Jess, going to parks, taking pictures, and eating ice-cream. We went to many clubs and I met a lot of cool people. Paris is awesome in August; there's barely anyone there and you don't bump into dumb tourists in the streets. I met a couple of high school friends. Jess and I watched a lot of Buffy (duh duhd uhd).

The second day of my stay in Paris, Jess and I went to a friend's apartment and there was a girl there from Bolivia. This chick was strange, I thought. I said something to her in Spanish and she wouldn't answer me back. She asked me what I was doing in Paris about 5 times in 15 minutes, while relentlessly sipping on her white wine and littering the floor with cigarette ashes, much to the home owner's chagrin. Huh. The apartment had a nice mix of people from all over, 70% native English speakers, I would say. Bolivian girl, who I later found out was 34 or some shit, kept being loud and asking everybody the same questions, tuning out the answers, I guess. At one point, as we were all having the best time ever ever, she decides to start speaking (awful) French (two people there spoke no French at all) and insisting we all do the same because we were “in Paris to learn the culture.” Wow, I had no idea! I thought I was there to hang with my bros and smoke mad weed, but whatever. We tried to ignore her, but bitch was so insistent (to not say ANNOYING AS FUCK) that she actually drove everybody out. I can now honestly say that I have met the most annoying person on the planet. Then I decided that I will never again let anybody ruin my buzz ever again because life is short and buzzes are expensive.

Well, maybe not all of them.

Jess and I had many yummy foods and made fun of people. She gave me good advice and I cried when I left. After a ridiculously hard trip to the airport, I got in my plane to Stockholm.
I got here August 26th, which was a Saturday. My friend Mattias picked me up from the bus station. With a car. Instant win. He took me to a rave in a park. I was in a rave within one and a half hours of my landing in Stockholm.
Week 2. We went home later and he told me all about Sweden. 1. Don't talk about drugs. 2. Swedes are hard to get to know. 3. Jobs are hard to find (no shit!). He drove me to school the next day and I moved into my dorm room. It's not quite a dorm, I have my own bathroom, but I do share a (gross) kitchen and (sad) living room area with like 11 other people. The kitchen always smells weird and the jury is out on my hall mates. Tonight there's a party in my building but I am lame and I have watched 9 episodes of Louie and ate old McDonald's.

The first week was orientation and that was nice. Didn't do anything. Went to a strange party with all international students in which the music legitimately sucked all the hairy balls. Euro-trashy-housy-Ibizaypop. UGGGGHHHH. I meet some cool people and stared at all the girls with green hair.
Week 3. I started one class which is sort of boring but okay. It's a lecture type, hardly any input from the class, and our professor kind of just reminisces about all the important people he's met in the film business. It's hard to keep awake (and by hard, I mean impossible, I have fallen asleep a couple of times). But it's cool because we get to watch old movies in an actual, comfortable, movie theatre most of the time. My classes are held in Filmhuset, which is this huge 70s'Architecture ugly-ass building that has its own cinemas, Sweden's only film-oriented library, classrooms, offices, and also the Swedish Film Institute is housed there. NBD.

Bam, motherfuckers. This is where I learn shit. (That entrance way is gonna be a problem in the winter. It's a 100-meter slope)

Week 4. Money is running low and I want to get a job. I have already applied for a few, but gotten no responses (this pattern continues until today). I actually don't remember many specifics. I went to a bunch of government offices just to be told I cannot get residency here without a health insurance card issued by Italy (because I am here with an Italian passport). I cannot get this card from the Italian embassy, so I am fucked. Until I get a job, I was told, I will not be able to declare residency, and, without this, I will not be able to open a bank account, obtain a cellphone contract, or any of that cool shit.

Week 5 or 6 or whatever. It was my birthday on Monday and it was actually quite shitty. I cried a lot because I have no money and no job. I have neglecting the SHIT out of my classes. I am supposed to read ALL OF THE ARTICLES EVER, but I haven't really. I feel a bit better now, although today was a waste of a day and I am a waste of a human being.
I got some presents though, for my birthday. My friends here (who are all German for some reason) gave me a tumbler coffee mug, a BIG cup for soup/coffee, a scented candle, a Kumbia Queers bag, and many kisses which I appreciate endlessly.
Okay, so my status right now is: useless, poor, and jobless. Hopefully this will change soon. But you know what won't change? My bad case of UGLY.

JK this is gorge

Coupled with the fact that I am apparently suffering from a late adolescence in my face, the women of Sweden are just incredibly fucking beautiful. Everyone says it, but it's actually stunning how ridiculous-looking everyone here is. Perfect skin, perfect hair, and, most of all, FLAWLESS FASHION SENSE. Ugh I feel like a deformed mutant who can only afford to shop in Salvation Army in some backwoods county 7 years ago. Also, I lost my iPod, so I have to suffer my self-deprecating thoughts super loudly when I'm in the subway looking at these superhuman models go to class in high-heeled ankle boots, tight black jeans, and the most expensive-looking sheer peach blouse ever, army green coat, with their iPhones, texting something insightful and funny to their perfect fucking friends. I cry in my head at least 3 times a day from lack of self-confidence.

Most of the people I have met or am friends with are foreigners. Swedes are strange and eccentric. I might be too weird for them. Or they are too individualistic for me. It's strange living in a country where everyone minds their own fucking business. I am involved in NO drama for the first time in my life, and it's legitimately weird and I have no idea how to behave or meet people.
Anyway, this post is weird, not funny, and mainly a mass update. I am scared, very very scared, that I might have to leave, because I can't find a job. I have almost no money left and I have to like, pay rent and eat food. I haven't been eating well, or regularly. It's like I trick my stomach for most of the day and then just have one big meal at dinner.

I miss you

But I like it here, a lot, even though it's fucking cold as fuck. The Internet is fast (I downloaded a movie in EIGHT SECONDS TODAY. EIGHT) and the people and buildings are nice to look at. Yup.



I'm not really sure what's happening but I think I'm tripping balls. I took some acid last night and like, it's still going on. I think. I'm not sure. I mean I spent like half an hour investigating my nipple piercing. That usually only takes five minutes. I seem to be fascinated by my lamp (?), and I
I really wanted to write something but I can't remember what it was.

Being polite.

If you are at a party that's in your house and you have asked a girl to play music from her ipod, that's cool because her music is better than yours anyway, but if you tell her that now your friend from Brazil will take over the ipod because she wants to see “what's in there” and something “less hip hoppy” or whatever, don't be surprised when it doesn't happen.
If you are at a bar and you are drunk and somehow we are discussing politics because it's cold and there's nothing else to do when someone tells you they don't vote or they are fascists, respect their democratic right to be those things, if you love your democracy so much, even though we all know that democracy is a lie and the captain of the ship has been killed by the unwashed crew.
Don't tease your american friends too much. They can't take it like uruguayans can. Specially males. Specially males performing masculinity and making you just a nudge uncomfortable with the way they talk about women and women's bodies while you sit there wishing you could pinpoint what is it that is making you uncomfortable even though you're supposed to be “cool” cause you're “gay”.
Expect drugs for free and demand them. Internally label anyone who doesn't have them or won't give them to you as an asshole/bitch who doesn't know how to have fun.

On the internet.

When invited to a facebook event, consider the “decline” button as decoration. The person who invited you gets a notification every time someone declines an invitation. It is considered good form to have a bunch of unanswered events hanging out on your side bar thingy.
Conversely, when you do accept to go to an event and mad people are posting on its wall, don't write a post on the thing's wall, complaining about so many notifications because of the posts on the wall because it's weirdly circular logic somehow.
Don't make rape jokes, but if you do, they better be actually funny. People really hate unfunny rape jokes. Because “unfunny” and “joke” cancel each other out. You cannot have an unfunny joke. So we're left with: “People really hate rape”, which is... yes. But whatever you do, don't defend the douche bag who just made the unfunny joke, even though he is your comedian white bro, because like, defending an unfunny offensive joke is impossible and makes you look part of the machine you are rebelling against.

Over text message.
It sucks that you'd rather hang out with them than with me. I am clearly better.
Don't let an obvious mass text ever be sent to your best friend. Ever. Write a separate text for them.
Don't assume someone wants to date you because they want to make out with you publicly. There are people whose egos need to be shattered, and you are sometimes a means to an end. I hope you enjoy the video I sent you, which is pretty much how I think you sound.

Remember this fucking movie?

I'm still really high. Radiohead is nice.


the food issue

Trigger warning, ya'll: This is NOT a thinspiration post, this is NOT a pro-ana post. If you have issues with food, this might fuck you up. Read on at your own risk. 

For a while now I haven't been eating right. It started a long time ago, in December, maybe. Sleeping too much/not enough, at weird hours, in weird places. Falling asleep on the bus, at work,  reading, at the movies. During that time, I also started feeling less and less hungry, filling up faster, feeling full all the time. I had blood work done to see if I had something like mono or a... face parasite, I don't know. Nope, I was fine. In fact, my blood values showed no signs of me being malnourished. o.O

Anyway, things got worse, and it got to a point where I am now actually disgusted by food. I don't want to weigh myself because I look scary. I have no idea what my BMI is, but I know it has to be lower than 15 (normal is 19 to 25). 

The food issue passed through a stage where this shit was actually suicidal. I thought, even consciously, well, I can't kill myself any other way, maybe if I starve myself I'll die and it won't be my fault. I'm pretty over that now, but food, and depriving myself of food became a kind of punishment/reward thing. I love to punish myself for things when I'm depressed and this was one of the ways. I would go hungry on purpose, until food became gross to me. I would be hungry and eating, and at the same time, trying not to puke from the horrible nausea the feeling of food in my mouth gave me. 

I overcame (somewhat) my depression, but the food thing persists. Because I made my body turn into survival mode, living off the bare minimum. Hence, I shut down all the time, and sleep. Forever. You burn less calories when you're dead asleep. 

I went to the doctor yesterday, it became too much, to stand up from my chair and grabbing on to the walls so as to not faint. Every time. I am now eating those things babies and old people eat so they won't die (yet, can I tell you a secret? It is now 6:37 PM and I've only eaten some pasta and a small salad). 

I am sure this food thing is directly responsible for my weird sleeping patterns and my fucked up skin lately. It's incredible, huh? Eating is the easiest thing in the world, right? I used to LOVE eating. Now, it's a paralyzing, incredibly difficult guilt-struggle with a piece of lettuce. Nevermind the carbs. How could I train my body to do this to me? Or my brain, I'm not sure which. And what's worse, the way I look makes me super self-conscious, and I just keep feeling worse. I can't eat, I can't gain weight, I'm ugly. My face looks hollow, my legs like twigs, and my breasts are non-existent. 

At the same time, this is just the way my body looks now. A lot of body-positive sites and people make sure to only affirm those fuller bodies. What about me? I feel like the pale man in Pan's Labyrinth. I feel so ugly and hated and judged at the same time. A lot of people would kill to have this problem. A lot of people DO kill themselves to have this problem. A lot of people die to look like this bullshit: 


Shit's sad, we're all crazy.



i'm pretty high on my sleeping pills right now. i wrote some tweets that are great because you can read them from top to bottom and from bottom, up. 

goodnight, sarah


can i just ask you a question, miss?

In my never-ending devotion to VICE mag and their questions to random people on the street, I decided to answer their questions myself, because I am unoriginal and boring. But remember when I was in Paris and I used to write every single day? I think I want to do that again. 


Pyramid Song (download - right click, save)

Also, maybe, Hurt by either Johnny Cash or NIN (this last video is a really bizarre choice of images for this song).

Yes, somewhere not in the face or spine. I really really want to be famous. 
The Fresh Prince. 
If murdered: I would like to be hung to death and make it look like a suicide. But then my friend or lover would not believe the police and would have to gather clues as to what really happened to me. 
Otherwise, I would like to die in the cold, cold snow. 
I am trying to think if I have slept with someone *not* working class... But yeah, poor people fuck better. 
Usually a coke and a cigarette, but if possible, a Bloody Mary will take all your problems away. 
Ham + Parmesan cheese + bacon + avocados + mustard + lettuce + tomato + lemon juice + salt.
Because they gave me a bunch of money there so I could know things. Because it is the birth place of many many people I love dearly. Because it has pretty mountains and pretty deserts and nice architecture. Because great musicians sometimes come from there. Because New York City, San Francisco, and Seattle. 

I guess another reason is that pretty slutty girls come from there?

Probably everyone. Probably me. But mostly all those people who perform female genital mutilations are on top of my list. 
Mostly men. And some women. But they usually get bored very fast. 
Probably not... because if the devil exists, then god must as well. And so must heaven and hell. If I make a deal with the devil, I will go to hell after I die. But if I meet the devil, it is direct evidence that heaven exists, and, sorry, but I don't want to suffer for ALL of eternity. If I was ever offered a deal by the devil, it would turn me into a devout christian. Talk about irony!
Not great, people tend to go overboard. 
Yes. We would have done a shit ton of drugs together. 
The really real world.
I've felt them before, and I have seen them in my dreams. 
A *male* lion, because they get to sleep all fucking day. Do I see some drool there?


Heath Ledger + Julia Stiles
People who rape children. People who mutilate women. Fred Phelps. Robert Mugabe. AhmadiNejad. The People Running Fox News. 
I don't use them, I just flirt relentlessly. But my favorite one was from my friend who said: "Hey Lau, that outfit is very becoming on you. If I was on you, I'd be coming on you, too." It was gross but hilarious. 
Judging from the other day's post, crappy white female mcs. 
I don't know why, but he's so unattractive to me, he makes my skin crawl. 


Mashed potatoes at a "restaurant" in Aguas Dulces, Rocha, Uruguay. It was potato-y water. Also, anything I find someone else's hair in. 
I... don't know. 
Yes. It makes ME evil. 

Mulan, fucking with gender roles and what not. 
These two bad bitches, too.


A lot of people from my high school. Bad people, sexist people, racist people, homophobic people.
Cry for days, in all honesty. 
I would like it to be someone like Emma Stone, but, realistically, Tilda Swinton. 
Get laid, it's not a big deal. Do drugs. Do more art, write more. You have potential. Don't go to high school in the States so early. Visit your father's grave. 
Physically? When I got all these teeth pulled out. They were all fucked up and they wouldn't come out, so they had to break them before pulling the pieces out. 
I wasn't. It's part of the problem. My father once slapped me because I was being annoying. My mother didn't do anything about it. 
From the X files. 
Horrible horrible things I don't want to own up to. But everyone laughs at Mexicans jokes, right?



Pica (play /ˈpkə/ py-kə) is characterized by an appetite for substances largely non-nutritive (such as clay or chalk).[1] For these actions to be considered pica, they must persist for more than one month at an age where eating such objects is considered developmentally inappropriate. There are different variations of pica, as it can be from a cultural tradition, acquired taste or a neurological mechanism such as an iron deficiency, or chemical imbalance. (source: wiki)


A light lunch, a salad of mixed Swedish words,
blue paper chunks, peppered with tobacco.
Glossy nail polish juice, garnished
with a thousand fine pieces of hot pink glitter.
A fresh palette cleanser, flower petal
and grey wool ice cream, ideal even in winter.
The kisses of blue-eyed young girls,
dialogue from TV shows dealing with the supernatural,
and transfeminist post-pornographic blog posts,
-the slam poetry of NYC kids pretending to be Egon Schiele-
wash it down with sweet blackberry fountain pen ink.
The crusty mustard pages of old books and black leather jackets.
For dinner, the memories of rough pillows melting in your mouth,
literal finger-licking goodness late-night snack. 

This is the poem I had been working on. I wrote it on paper, which I rarely do. I am much much better now. But for a while there, it was like involuntary anorexia nervosa, man. Ta.


john waters is probably a female mc

You know when you are not with a person and you think about the universe and god but actually the longest distance in the world is between your fingers because they're not touching? And you probably won't touch them again? And you can daydream about fucking them while you ride the bus home from work, maybe and how good his dick felt inside of you and the new one just isn't quite cutting it the smell of nice cologne on his prickly neck or running into his friends who pretend to not recognize you or involuntarily fantasizing* about running into him while you look like shit with no make-up on but fuck it! Do you know how easy it is to get a new dick? Do you know how easy it was?

I pretty much spent the weekend looking at gifs (did you know they are pronounced “jifs”??!?!?! blew my fucking mind) and videos today. I saw a terrible movie I found funny. I thought about boys and girls and the weather. I read all the articles on VICE and saw all the DOs and DONTs too. 

ugghghaghghghghghghg the synchronized back pattern is killing me (via.)

I made tiny lists in my head I forgot promptly. I got mad at my students for now knowing their shit. Now that I am a teacher, I am NEVER going into class unprepared, or miss class unless I am actually on fucking fire. It's rude and shitty and ungrateful. I thought about sexism a bunch and well-meaning dudes and how they never seem to get it, that horrible dread when you forgot you were a woman, you thought you were a human being, and then someone objectifies you, and then you just become a collection of holes with maybe nice hair. And they take pictures of you and maybe rate you on a scale from one to ten and you laugh and maybe participate but really you want to cry with all the rage while slowly choking the literal shit out of every man that's ever been alive. Except for John Waters.


Did you know that John Waters is hitchhiking across America? He's, you know, mature, and just like, not giving any fucks, and getting rides from strangers.

It is never not okay to post a John Waters gif. Also, read THIS article. Speaking of VICE...

I've been a bad friend. I haven't returned some emails I should have. It's because sometimes I feel like recreating the stigmata with fucking nail scissors because I miss my friends so much, and telling them about my trivial shit seems not real and my face scrunches up but no real tears come out. Nobody wins.

I have a bunch of posts actually coming up. One is a poem I wrote about not eating food. Another is a list, because I love lists. Another is another post about men I'd like to fuck, but that's like a sore subject today, so let's leave it. Another is a post about how fucking insane my mother is and how every day I am turning younger vis-à-vis my relationship with her.

Dudes, I searched the tags on tumblr for "mother" and all I got was REALLY disturbing porn and pictures of Lady Gaga, so here's Joan Crawford, who is nothing like my mother. I'm more Joan Crawford in our relationship, if anything.

I downloaded 136 songs worth of hip-hop yesterday and spent 6 hours organizing my music library by genre. I tried to even google every missing album name (with its accompanying image) but that got old real fast.

I woke up sick today, bleeding, itching, my forehead is full of water and misspelled words
I made a circle around my bed with used tissues and old underwear
I listened to This Song 32 times in 3 days.
Wishing for Sleeping Beauty Disorder, just a bit under two months, is it? Today?
Jag äter mat, jag äter mat fucking inte. Jag äter aldrig? Gotta Practice.
Fake pearl necklaces and tight shirt collars
Some Things i Became Obsessed With Over The Weekend:

Iggy Azalea ft. T.I. - Murda Bizness
L$D - Don't Smoke My Blunt Bitch
Confesión Feat Eli Almic & DJRC by Eli Almic. I went to the best hip-hop show in Uruguay that I have ever been to. This girl, Eli Almic, was MCing. Straight crushin'.
Faye CU
Everything on rookiemag.com (again), specially this photo shoot with fucking with gender. I wish I was still a teenager so I could write for Tavi.
Pretty Little Liars. Yes, I watch the shit out of this show. Shut up.
Brassaï, Two Acrobats, Cirque Medrano, 1932-33
Brassaï, Paris from Notre-Dame Cathedral, 1933
All of Brassaï's photographs, specially these three. That french dyke couple (1932) is power. (via)

And, lastly, white cabbage salads at six in the morning, heavy on the vinegar.

*is there a word for this? You know, when maybe you lie in bed and you start thinking about the worst possible outcome, the scenario in which you would be the most embarrassed and hurt? Is this something only I do? Involuntarily fantasize? It's like day-nightmaring. Something.  

<3's back