josephine.

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Q: How many 2.5-kilometer laps do you have to run (on cyclist legs) ... in order to outrun the feeling that a part of your stomach has gone irrevocably missing?

A: An infinite number. This is not actually possible.

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Wait

Wait, for now. Distrust everything, if you have to. But trust the hours. Haven't they carried you everywhere, up to now? Personal events will become interesting again. Hair will become interesting. Pain will become interesting. Buds that open out of season will become lovely again. Second-hand gloves will become lovely again, their memories are what give them the need for other hands. And the desolation of lovers is the same: that enormous emptiness carved out of such tiny beings as we are asks to be filled; the need for the new love is faithfulness to the old. Wait. Don't go too early. You're tired. But everyone's tired. But no one is tired enough. Only wait a while and listen. Music of hair, Music of pain, music of looms weaving all our loves again. Be there to hear it, it will be the only time, most of all to hear, the flute of your whole existence, rehearsed by the sorrows, play itself into total exhaustion. 

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always, always, always match your cookies. 

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important things to remember

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all of my money is tied up in physical therapy, or activities that lead me back to physical therapy. 

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my summer, summarized. 

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“Before the race, people told me I was “gold-medal capable.” I guided such platitudes in one ear and out the other. I never truly absorbed my potential, that it could be me. I’ve actually raced at this level for years, but my self-concept apparently had a junk mail filter on “best in the world.” The morning of the race, I was still bleating at Dean: “Is this actually possible?” and then ignoring him every time he said yes. I never believed it until the split second between when I saw the 300 meters-to-go banner and when I looked under my arm to see the winning sprint fly past.

The reality is—and this is the global lesson part, so pay attention: I was always that good. Wins are never assured, but I always had that potential. I just never let myself enjoy it, and that is a regret.”

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AZ: One last question, a cliché, but really pertinent to us. What would be your advice to young writers—just anything at all, if you can leave us with one sentiment that you think is important for us, what would it be?

LB: Oh, the most important—because this is one I didn’t follow. I let myself be discouraged by other people’s opinions at one point. I would say, Take what you can of criticism, but stick with your own gut feelings. That’s really, really important. I was discouraged for a long time before I came to that point, where I realized, “Hey, I’m writing for me,” and I didn’t care about [the rest]. I think that’s the most important—especially with all these workshops and all these people telling you different things about your work and what you should do. Sometimes I feel really sorry for students in workshop because everyone has a different take. Just keep on writing and take what you can get, but when you feel good about a piece, keep that and remember that. Don’t let anybody take it away. That’s the most important thing, and the one I’ve seen people go down under. They didn’t stick it out through one more rejection. That little cleaning lady story got 13 rejections, and somehow… I love that story, and I let myself feel good about it. And just that fact kept me writing more stories.

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It's like you took a dark situation and said fuck you universe, I control the darkness.

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there's no complaining about ALMOST dying in cycling.

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my bartape was kind of uninspiring.

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It is not so incomprehensible as you pretend, sweet pea. Love is the feeling we have for those we care deeply about and hold in high regard. It can be light as the hug we give a friend or heavy as the sacrifices we make for our children. It can be romantic, platonic, familial, fleeting, everlasting, conditional, unconditional, imbued with sorrow, stoked by sex, sullied by abuse, amplified by kindness, twisted by betrayal, deepened by time, darkened by difficulty, leavened by generosity, nourished by humor, and ‘loaded with promises and commitments’ that we may or may not want to keep. The best thing you can do with your life is to tackle the motherfucking shit out of love. And, Johnny, on this front, I think you have some work to do.

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Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly, a fit emblem of the human soul, for those whose cast of mind leads them to seek such emblems. No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.

Pat Barker, Regeneration (via smelsea)

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