double r.

vantage point commentary on my reality.

[rubyrosalee]

[rubyrosalee]

kanyewest.com

[rubyrosalee]

heredity

my momma taught me how to drink my pain away. 

my momma taught me how to leave somebody. 

my momma taught me how to smoke my load & go. 

my momma told me i don't need nobody. 

so one time for the caged bird... 

[rubyrosalee]

i worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies, i'll tell you my sins & you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death, good god, let me give you my life.

[rubyrosalee]

happy belated. chaz french.

#CCCLXVIII

[rubyrosalee]

lover/collaborator

[rubyrosalee]

ease on down the road

[rubyrosalee]

[rubyrosalee]

3

[rubyrosalee]

kanye west at fat beats aug 1996

[rubyrosalee]

lessons.

1. make your bed - you will lie in it.

2. do everything with excellence, the way we do the small things is the way we do the big things.

3. no matter how you feel on the inside, dress up and do your hair.

4. own yourself, own your power and be respectful - but if someone crosses a line that you've drawn, throw down.

5. accessories make the outfit.

[rubyrosalee]

it's late at night as i lie in bed in the blue glow of the television set. i have the clicker in my hand, the remote control, and i go from 1 to 97, scrolling through the channels. i find nothing that warrants my attention, nothing that amuses me, so i scroll up again, channel by channel, from bottom to top. but i've already given it the honor of going from 1 to 97, and already i've found nothing. this vast, sophisticated technology and... nothing. it's given me not one smidgen of pleasure. it's informed me of nothing beyond my own ignorance and my own frailties. 

but then i have the audacity to go up again! and what do i find? nothing, of course. so at last, filled with loathing and self-disgust, i punch the damn tv off and throw the clicker across the room, muttering to myself, "what am i doing with my time?"

it's not as if i'm without other resources or material comforts, you follow? i've been very fortunate in my life, and as i lie in my bed, i'm surrounded by beautiful things. treasured books and art objects, photographs and mementos, lovely gardens on the balcony. i have a rich network of friends, some only a few steps away, dozens of others whom i could reach on the phone within seconds. 

so what am i doing with my time?

steeped in this foul, self-critical mood i lie back and close my eyes, trying to empty my head of all thought. it's late, time to sleep, so i determine to focus on that empty space in my consciousness and try to drift off. but images begin to come to me, infiltrating that darkness. soft, sensuous images of a time very early in my life when things were so much simpler, when my options for entertainment couldn't be counted on a scale from 1 to 97.

[rubyrosalee]

the ecology of love.

[rubyrosalee]

there are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. they will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.

they are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. they won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. they’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. they won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. they’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. they won’t know you get migraines. they won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. they’ll love it because it feels real to them. they’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. tou might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.

they will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. they won’t ever consider you strong.

when the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. they’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. those things are not to be shown. be at your best so I can love you. i would love you more if only you never show me those things.

and you do not marry those people. you do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. you leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.

— unknown

[rubyrosalee]

that's God's work... i don't want to do God's work. i want to do my work... my work is to release. release & breathe.

[rubyrosalee]

zane lowe meets.... (the godfather) rick rubin.

[rubyrosalee]

thankful for palm trees & gangster rap (...& you)