ADAM STANLEY, WRITER @iamadamstanley - Tumblr Blog

7:50 pm. Ten minutes. He might bring candy or a stuffed animal or something. That would be thoughtful, she mused, as she sat down on the yellow, velvet sofa—no, papaya the salesgirl had called it. Purple walls. Orange chair, mid-century modern. She figured if her life were going to be drab, at least the place where she spent most of her time these days would be bright and bemusing as a Matisse painting. One corner of the room was populated by plants of various colors and species: geraniums, whose flowing leaves of green, slightly edged in pink, swayed in the faint breeze of the ceiling-fan like pretty dresses on a clothesline in summer. An array of orchids lined the window-seal which overlooked the tops of lush poplars and skyscrapers in the distance. Pale-blue, ivory-white, night-sky black, their silken petals were peculiar and mysterious as sex organs, as by day they worshiped the sunlight, and by night they settled into their diminutive, Orchidoideae dreams; though they often stirred in the night, silently, like insomniacs reaching for faraway starlight.

__Adam Stanley

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A few weeks after the Halloween party, I saw her at the County Fair, standing in line for the Gravitron. She was eating pastel blue cotton candy. It had been a hot Fall. It was just beginning to get cool as the sun went down. She waved to me. “The elf? Right?” Leigh asked. “Robin Hood.” “Oh yeah. Sorry. You never came over to skate the ramp.” she said. There was an older guy with her. He had black hair, except for his bangs, which were bleached white and hung down across one side of his face. He brushed his bangs away and put his hand on her shoulder. “This is Jared,” she said, as he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her on the cheek. “Hi,” I replied. “So you’re gonna come over?” she asked. “I’d like to.” “Then do. This weekend if you want.” “OK,” I said. She wrote down her number with an eyeliner pencil on the back of a candy bar wrapper. When she handed it to me, her fingers slightly touched the back of my hand. “Really, come by. See you,” she said, as they entered the ride. I watched as the doors closed. “Man, she’s hot. That guy’s a dick, I heard,” Cameron said. I didn’t say anything. He smiled. “No. You like her?” “Sort of,” I said. “Well, I just think she’s hot, so I guess I could lay off if you really like her.” “I do. I walked around the rest of the night in a haze. The air was thick and noxious from the diesel smell of the rides, and sharp with the pungent odor of the livestock exhibits and rotting food in trash cans made from barrels, but it all mixed with the sweet scent of candied apples, cotton candy and popcorn, creating the wonderful smell of childhood nights spent at this same fairground, when the glowing, spinning lights of the giant Ferris Wheel were scary, yet exhilarating. That smell, sometimes so strong it was impossible not turn away and almost gag, that at other times was sugary and so sweet that you could almost taste it, was the setting for a parable that I could not have yet understood. An allegory of the bittersweet nature of our lives.

~~Adam Stanley All My Sins Remembered

iamadamstanley

“She had not forgotten the truth. It was always there, and she could feel it, waiting for her, the way a summer dress, or a winter coat patiently hangs in the closet, waiting for the proper season to be worn.”

— Adam Stanley

iamadamstanley

“Everyone is dreaming at 2am–the lucky ones are asleep.”

— Adam Stanley

iamadamstanley

“Love does not become–love is.”

— Adam Stanley (via iamadamstanley)

iamadamstanley

Love does not become–love is.

Adam Stanley (via iamadamstanley)

iamadamstanley

I took a big gulp of wine. I swallowed it , and I could feel the warmth as it spread throughout my body like someone else’s blood. Whatever emptiness there was inside of me, it always seemed to fill it, as if the liquid had solidified into a substance that was unbreakable, transforming any weakness I may have felt on the inside, into a false sense of strength. This is the reason I drink. I never stop longing for that warm feeling that sometimes, if only for the first few sips, feels like true love.

adam stanley (via iamadamstanley)