I’m in my prime.
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@imhardlyevenhere
I’m in my prime.
Honestly what if I enjoy the drink. What happens then?
I’d love to hear what you think happens then.
I’ll tell you what happens then: we go play beer pong with your two roommates until I end up back at yours in Murray hill… Yeah, then I have to listen to your roommate have sex with Hilary, or Emily or whatever the girl’s name is, until we fall asleep. And then a year later we’re still playing beer pong in the same bars with your friends except now you feel pressured to get married and have kids because you think that’s what I want. Then in the summers you drive up to the Hamptons to meet his parents wondering the whole ride if they’re going to think you’re pretty enough. Smart. Wondering the whole ride if they’re going to think you’re smart enough. Because no one is and then we have to drink shitty chardonnay. At a shitty garden party. And have shitty conversations. About shitty people. With his shitty mother. Who, let’s face it, doesn’t think you’re smart enough. Pretty. Let’s face it, doesn’t think you’re pretty enough. Because no one is. No one ever will be.
What’s all that shit, I’m just talking about a drink.
Yeah, but it wasn’t just a drink though, was it. It was a marriage proposal.
““…because people who talk about their dreams are actually trying to tell you things about themselves they’d never admit in normal conversation. It’s a way for people to be honest without telling the truth.””
— Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story
My Blueberry Nights (2007)
Directed by Wong Kar-wai Cinematography by Darius Khondji
“It took me nearly a year to get here. It wasn’t so hard to cross that street, after all, it all depends on who’s waiting for you on the other side.”
Je pense a toi - Amadou et Mariam
This is my least favorite life. The one where you fly and I don’t. A kiss holds a million deceits, and a lifetime goes up in smoke…
Amsterdam, 1950s. Photo by Kees Scherer
Fox
©juri
~ Venice, Italy ~