Oct 28, 2024
Related Recs
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I'll say it once, and I'll continue saying it over and over. This book is amazing.
Oct 26, 2024
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ill say it once and ill say it again, its one of the best books ive ever read.
May 2, 2024
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Werner Herzog's Memoir. One of the most perniciously fantastic combination of story, philosophy, and ecstatic truth I have ever read. If you know nothing of this madman, consider reading just to become enamored of the ways in which life presents deep mystery and intrigue.
Apr 17, 2024
Top Recs from @magdalena2
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My boyfriend did not die in 1991. I told a lie and it turned into a fact, forever repeated in my official biography. He died on Christmas Day, 1990, when his family disconnected the mechanical breathing machine. He was a composer in the school of music. We were working on a piece for voice and strings. I liked writing the words under the whole notes, hyphenating them to make them last. I liked sitting on the bed in his apartment, writing on the sheet music—bigger paper, thicker, how it sounded when it fell to the floor when we got tired. It was winter break, friends in town, we hopped from party to party, catching up but separately. It was late, the night was clear, the roads were empty. The four of them were sober, the driver in the other car was not. I was a few miles away, in a bar, waiting. When the bar closed, I left him an angry message for standing me up. A few hours later, a friend called and told me. He suggested I break into the apartment and start removing things before the family arrived. For several minutes I didn’t understand, then—evidence. He hadn’t told his family and it didn’t seem right to tell them now, to suggest that they didn’t really know him. I drove in the darkness between the accident and dawn. I climbed through the window. I couldn’t figure which things looked suspicious and which things would be missed. I was sloppy, rushed. I grabbed the wrong sheet music. It was a piece that had already been performed. A few days after Christmas there was a memorial. I sat in the back. As part of his speech, his father mentioned the missing music and made an appeal for its return. I couldn’t give it back. On New Year’s Eve, in a black velvet jacket, at a party in the lobby of a downtown hotel, with a drink in each hand—one for him, one for me—I kept asking where he was, if anyone had seen him. I had his passport in my back pocket. I shouldn’t have taken that either. It was the only picture of him I could find.
Oct 28, 2024
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i am from the prospect park splash pad, from annie (1982) and kit kittredge. i am from see you in the morning and wemberly worried and the kissing hand. from bob dylan sung by my grandad, to patches sewn dedicated and delicately on stuffed animals, short films, and bathrooms. from too much too young too soon too loud too much. from fevers and america. i am from cancer and i am from the dinner table. Born to teachers and authors and music, out of love and out of the sperm bank. annie's mac and cheese, and tuesday playdates, and the act of being over dramatic. i am from the way that i see my grandma's face in mine as i put half of my hair in a claw clip, and from good luck charlie, and from everyone that i have ever met.
Oct 28, 2024
My favorite perfume of all time, perfect amount of sweet & warm & comforting
Oct 28, 2024