I didn’t have class today so instead of being productive and studying for exams I set up my new pop filter, stared proudly at the gold lion I painted on my wall, took selfies with my tongue out cuz im so Miley, watched Madagascar (for science), and now I’m gonna do what I do best (drink wine) so that I don’t feel like I wasted my day.

2 plays Back Out On The Road Holy Shemp

Sounds like summer

This. This is what I’m talking about. Write poetry about this ^

A little rock n roll

Pleasant Pear Poetry

I just sliced up a pear the way I would normally slice up an apple. I don’t know why eating a pear this way would seem any different, but I promise it felt like a new experience to me. Eating this sliced up pear feels uncharacteristically elegant and romantic. Someone should write poetry about this.


Another one of me to love you better than I ever will

The sky is on fire tonight (at Somewhere)

East coast sunsets are better. #nyc bound. ✈️

Showin off my baller status #thuglife ;P

Après-ski

Going skiing at Smuggs feels like coming home. #eastcoastbeastcoast

Making Friends

So happy to be back in a place where the weather matches the season ❄️⛄️ #vtlovin #coldweatherworkouts

Madness and Illumination

We human beings do this thing inside our brains while we’re sleeping; a sort of mad firing-off of synapses. Controlled insanity. While we’re asleep, the part of our brain that records sight and sound, it’s firing off every hour or two. Even when all the sights and sounds are complete random nonsense, our brains just keep on trying to assemble it into something sensible. We try to make stories out of it. It’s complete random nonsense with no correlation to the real world, and yet we turn it into these crazy stories, and then we forget them. All that work coming up with these stories and when we wake up, we forget almost all of them. But when we do remember, then we try to make stories about those crazy stories, trying to fit them into our real lives. It’s madness. Thousand of competing, contradictory, impossible visions that make no sense at all because they can’t all fit together. But they do fit together. We make them fit together. This way today, that way tomorrow, as they’re needed. As if we can make a new idea-machine inside our heads for every new problem we face. As if we conceive of a new universe to live in. Every hour a new one, often hopelessly wrong and we end up making mistakes and bad judgements, but sometimes so perfectly right that it opens things up like a miracle, and we look through our eyes and see the world this new way and it changes everything. Madness and then illumination.

Winter’s Tale

A great city is nothing more than a portrait of itself, and yet when all is said and done, its arsenals of scenes and images are part of a deeply moving plan. As a book in which to read this plan, New York is unsurpassed. For the whole world has poured its heart into the city by the Palisades, and made it far better than it ever had any right to be.