TINY PANCAKES

that would be something, to have a life so beautiful.

[mythologyofblue]

at the bottom of the ocean

is a layer of water that has

never moved

-Anne Carson, red doc>

[peretzele]

deep dive through the photo archive tonight reintroduced me to Anna in August 2009. she was 18, a busser at the best little restaurant in great barrington, and like any rogovoy worth their salt, she was rocking a fedora.

[nevver]

Closer, IG : itsPeteski

[peretzele]

All is forgiven Alright, you are forgiven If there's one thing I fear There's one thing I fear It's knowing you're around So close but not here So close Oh, but not with me here So close But not with me here All is forgotten All is forgotten I've made up my mind I've made up my mind I've wasted my time Making up my mind I don't know anything I don't know anything I don't know anything But I love you Yes, I do Yes, I do Will you ever forgive me A thousand times through For loving you? For loving you? For loving you?

[peretzele]

Like Kerosene Yes, it’s daily that we move into each other—but this morning I was separate even from myself— my hands were shovels, I had mosquito netting for hair, and the insect beating against the night was my heart. My name was hallow and the sky was made of shale when I walked into a part of morning I’ve never seen: the sky still heavy, still smoldering with the nightmares of others, the drunkenness and sorrow rising like dew, like fog, like smoke back into the clouds. Suddenly, my face was wet with it. I wanted to lie down with it. To rest against the almost exhausted night. Uncertain of what to do there I started dividing the layers, the sediment, thinking: Usually I sleep through his sadness. And the morning asking: Why do you keep track of the middle of the day when you should be waxing the moon? How can these young fragile branches be left out in the darkness, and who set that darkness wandering inside your heart? Who can your love ignite, like this, like kerosene? And then the sky lit the morning. And then I went in to set my own house on fire. And then I lay down next to you: a body filling with feathers or with snow asking: and who are you that my love can light like this, like kerosene. Olena Kalytiak Davis

[peretzele]

been a while but i'm here for this

[nevver]

Remember

[peretzele]

OHAD NAHARIN: WHY I CHOREOGRAPH

“I like the byproduct of choreographic effort that can oppose conventional and conservative politics and theories that block new solutions and free thinking.

I love to choreograph since it’s where I can put my skills, passion, and imagination into one pot, and it also makes me feel sexy. I sleep better during the process of choreographing.”

- Dance Magazine

[nevver]

Where’s your head @itsPeteski

[peretzele]

me in my dorm room, 2013, bennington college homes I've had in NYC - a beautiful one-bedroom in prospect heights shared with a sometimes-friend sometimes-enemy for seven weeks, winter 2010/2011 - a two-bedroom in bushwick shared with a bf and a really great dancer for several months, winter 2011/2012 to summer 2012 - the secret bedroom in the office of chez bushwick for one month, summer 2012 - a beautiful three-bedroom in prospect lefferts gardens shared with a friend from school and a problematic dude for one year, fall 2013 to fall 2014 - a fourth floor walkup two-bedroom in prospect lefferts gardens shared first with one beloved friend and now another, three years and counting, fall 2014 to present

[nevver]

Hater

[nevver]

What you do @itsPeteski

[peretzele]

My god I love being mansplained to By a teenage boy About writing about rape Especially because I am a 26 year old woman With a literature degree from a prestigious college Who has been raped And written about it

[peretzele]

Me: wow I have none dollars how did this happen Also me: *buys a vintage Balenciaga sweatshirt* Additionally me: guys come on

[peretzele]

Today I am wearing a sundress that I bought at uniqlo last year for $20 and three different men have told me I look amazing. I am never paying real money for a garment again.

[nevver]

Ella Frances Sanders

[peretzele]

remembering how heavily this rested with me last June

[peretzele]

found a bunch of poems from senior year bennington and some of them are good here is one The War If I say that there is salt in one arm and raise it above my head, then we must conclude that the salt will flow through the body into the other arm. It will change sides. You can’t see the salt but if you trace a fingertip from my shoulder to my wrist, the crystals will nick you. I lower both arms and fold my knees¬–salt is so many rocks. If you take my arms, the fight is over.