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The creator burnout conversation is finally catching up to what disabled and neurodivergent writers have known for years. Slow blogging, honest slowdowns, and sustainable pacing aren’t trends — they’re foundations. #SlowBlogging #NeurodivergentCreatives
🍁 Good morning and Happy Friday! 🍁 It’s Friday, so that means… ✨ Our Little Friday Letter ✨ is now live! 💌 If you're subscribed, you should find this week's newsletter waiting in your inbox right now — maybe with a cuppa in hand ☕ and the scent of autumn in the air 🍂 This week’s letter is full of seasonal goodness from our little house to yours, as we properly settle into September and embrace the cosy rhythms ahead. 🍎🍁🕯️ Here’s what you’ll find inside this week’s Friday Letter: 🍂 A warm September welcome & a peek into what life looks like here lately 🏡 Updates from our little house — from candle-making to autumn decorating 📝 Thoughts on seasonal living — what it really means & how to embrace it 📚 Four lovely new blog posts you might enjoy 🧺 A little section from the archives featuring orange pomanders & dried citrus 📸 This week on Instagram — Slow September prompts, journaling, morning walks & more 🍃 A gentle reminder that slower, simpler days are still worth sharing ✨ If you’re not subscribed but would like to read along, you’ll find the full newsletter at the link in bio → under “Newsletter” or via stories today. You can also find it under the Newsletter tab on the blog. 📬 If you’d like to subscribe, it’s completely free and just one lovely email from me each Friday — no spam, just seasonal stories, blog updates, and a little weekly catch-up. You can sign up over at www.ourlittlehouseinthecountry.com under the Newsletter tab 💛 Let me know if you enjoy this week’s letter — and thank you, as always, for being here. It truly means the world. 🧡 #OurLittleHouseintheCountry #FridayLetter #AutumnFeels #SlowLivingBlog #IntentionalLiving #SimpleJoys #AutumnVibes #SeasonalLiving #IrishLifestyleBlog #CottageLife #CosySeason #SlowAndSeasonal #SlowSeptember #AutumnBlogPosts #BlogNewsletter #CosyRoutines #SlowLivingSeptember #MindfulLiving #AppleSeason #FallVibes 🍎🍁🍂🕯️
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Hi friends!
I'm sorry for disappearing and for my lack of updates. Life has gotten crazy recently and I've barely had any time to stop and breathe.
But! The first thing that will be coming out, when I'm done with it, is part 2 of Astrology and Star signs.
Im still here- but I will definitely be slow for a little while longer.
Thank you to everyone interacting with my work! 🩵
A RE-POST FROM JULY 2017: SLOW BLOGGING
A RE-POST FROM JULY 2017: SLOW BLOGGING
*JAP: SLOW BLOGGING
Today I discovered a new literary blog on WordPress – dolcebellezza thanks to the industrious blogger on bookertalk.wordpress.com who is a marvellous source of info on literary topics. Anyway, when I was reading the About section on dolcebellezza, she made an interesting remark on the topic of Slow Blogging, saying that having reached her 10th Blogging Anniversary (I’m…
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Pourquoi j’ai adopté le slow blogging Ne vous méprenez pas : se convertir au slow blogging ne veut pas dire bloguer en dilettante.
*(JAP) SLOW BLOGGING
Today I discovered a new literary blog on WordPress – dolcebellezza thanks to the industrious blogger on bookertalk.wordpress.com who is a marvellous source of info on literary topics. Anyway, when I was reading the About section on dolcebellezza, she made an interesting remark on the topic of Slow Blogging, saying that having reached her 10th Blogging Anniversary (I’m impressed) she’s…
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l p m w o r l d
Cat Marnell has just released her book, How To Murder Your Life, and in this blog entry, SlutLust discusses his relationship with her.
e x t r a c t / /
Everything in Cat Marnell’s book is true. And as honored as I am to have my mentioned in it I also see it as a Scarlett Letter of sorts. In her book she describes the years in which we hung out with us as the good years, but I read the book and lived that period so I’m conflicted. I remember the apartment, all storage room scattered and filled with tagged up magazine tear sheets and costly beauty products spilling and caking on everything. It was like being inside a drunk socialite’s bird cage. Her fridge was filled with a mountain of empty prescription bottles. Her bathroom was a grimy churched, filled with rosaries and whatever she wore and tore off within the last month. The apartment was always full of people; wanna be party girls negotiating their morals while stealing whatever swag their poorly manicured nails could touch and aerosol scented degenerates feeding their own personal narcissisms with their cries for attention.
And it all felt delightfully glamorous.
I had been here before. My ex – a NYU Chevron fortune heir who had severe drug issues – who I had moved to San Diego to save – was the same damn person minus the literary bug. By then the iron flag (cocaine smoked out of aluminum foil) I was force fed (I’m totally lying I went and brought the foil) by SAME had taken effect, slowing all my motor functions. I needed to leave. I couldn’t tell if I was still in the same solar system from earlier, or if that was all in my head and we were all just after party parasites living off a decaying beauty editor.
Wait, how did I even know she was an editor? Why did it feel like I always knew? Where is my phone?!
And that’s the thing with drugs kiddies.
I don’t even think I said goodbye to my sprawled and rung out friends. The thoughts of my ex and the turbulence in my life before I left my beloved city and flew into the palm tree lined sunset; I wanted to save Cat, put her on a plane and send her somewhere far from the eye of the tornado of over indulgence we were standing in. I was drowning in guilt with just another bump of nose candy and a lukewarm beer filled with cigarette ashes as my buoy.
The sun started to crack through her mostly blacked out windows. I leaned over the convoluting bodies writhing in their mania and whispered to her to walk me out. Cat – like a bleached Bambi prancing through the Disney kingdom – pounced to the door over the entire ego orgy smoking cocaine caked Newports on her couch. The elevator ride was a quick 2 or 3 floors to the exit, but the silence between us lasted an eternity. I didn’t even know her, what could I even possibly have tell her?!
“So wazzup?”, her eyes now glaring at me, sparkling like glitter trapped in headlights.
“Nothing.” I said sheeply. I didn’t see her standing before me anymore, I saw my troubled ex morphing into my broken heart. I saw how dope it was with all the ATM withdrawals for the all those crazy nights and the very high highs and darkest of lows. Cutting dope on the cover of Mein Kampf while dressed in Patricia Field's neon listening to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers on repeat dark... Wasted OJ loved all of this; sober OJ was deep inside me, yanking every single nerve, trying to puppet me into doing the right thing.
I gave her a bear hug like she was leaving me to fight in Iraq, and placed a light, angelic kiss on her forehead.
“Take care…” I said turning away from her – separating the magnets of curiosity that had me trapped in her trap house. I walked away feeling like a coward, in the middle of a bar brawl, he knew he couldn’t win.
Years would go by, and Cat & I would continue to mirror each other in weird ways. I guess she didn't need saving, or maybe we all really did. We had zero time for weakness. You can't buy drugs and booze with that.
source: http://shoplapetitemort.com/blogs/lpm-world
