small pigeon truths

july 21, one more month in maine

2009-07-21T12:22:00.000-07:00

2009-07-14T20:42:00.000-07:00

2009-07-03T19:23:00.000-07:00

he's just a hero

in a long line of heroes

looking for something attractive to save

goodbye july

2009-07-02T06:20:00.000-07:00

just being smelly in my head smelling confusion and cancers twelve days till this twelve hours till that twelve months till a summer summwhere else? i could tumble over my doodoodoododo into some strange futon land where drapes cover the walls, not the windows, and people have lost track of the methods they're using to keep in touch. or i could drum up some coucoucourage lion heart-style and let you know when i've sunk my teeth into the right thing to say. what can i ask of? what can i give to?

2009-06-18T15:23:00.000-07:00

wait, are you serious? look at that bread.

necessary changes

2009-06-07T15:15:00.000-07:00

i NEED to make this DIY project happen.

2009-06-05T23:37:00.000-07:00

YOUR LIFE CHANGES ARE NOT MORE IMPORTANT THAN MINE JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE OCCURRING IN OR BECAUSE OF A MAJOR METROPOLIS. DO YOU REALLY THINK THAT THINGS MEAN MORE WHEN THEY HAPPEN IN CERTAIN RECOGNIZABLE PLACES?

couldn't be truer

2009-05-24T14:20:00.001-07:00

whatta

2009-05-24T14:14:00.000-07:00

all of us

2009-05-20T21:33:00.000-07:00

we’re all in love or we all want to be in love or we’re all lonely or we’re all afraid or we’re all waiting for our lives to start or we’re all looking at pictures of roses and pretty girls or we’re all writing down the funny things that people around us say or we’re all watching TV shows from our youths or we’re all worrying about money or we’re all worrying about never finding someone or we’re all trying to find the haircuts that work for our faces or we’re all trying to show off or we’re all trying to go faster or we’re all spending all day in bed or we’re all complaining about our jobs or we’re all sad or we’re all at the beach or we’re all turning the lights on or we’re all sitting on benches or we’re all doing our taxes or we’re all reading the newspaper and shaking our heads and thinking “i need to help” or we’re all cutting up t-shirts or we’re all in love or we’re all lonely

just a girl

2009-05-19T14:36:00.000-07:00

This Dries Van Noten look for AW09 just slapped me across the face, in the gentlest and most loving of ways. With the slap, it drove the message home that style doesn't have to be about frills, studs, layers, or any other decoration or over-anything. Sometimes, style is just about being a young girl in a big coat. Do you see the romance in that idea?

leather envy

2009-05-19T12:13:00.000-07:00

shoes via dirtyflaws

2009-05-19T12:03:00.000-07:00

Korea's Loveland

smaller squares

2009-05-17T20:52:00.000-07:00

turn pants inside out write till the windows close on their own and sticky paint means little to none bandanas full of body moisture rags full of tears that didn't make it to the unicorn correcting my words before they come out escape escape es-cah-pay let it swim swim be be let it be be let it fuzzes buzzes nonsense none-sense pillows folding into squares smaller and smaller till everything necessary and un- can fit into this box of a room wings wings alas alas wings alas in flight don't have the patience to don't have the patience to gotta go gotta go will you let me go be? in my own geometry?

back home to new england

2009-05-15T20:01:00.000-07:00

home.

love home,

hate knowing:

i'll be here for three.5 months.

sense boredom.

not excited.

cinco de

2009-05-05T14:01:00.000-07:00

april 26

2009-04-26T17:55:00.000-07:00

two summers past

2009-04-23T11:16:00.000-07:00

sillies and silly's

spring means

2009-04-21T19:58:00.000-07:00

fluorescents and sequins together! harmonious love is made between two of the most fun, rock and roll, carefree fashion elements. get me in on this; it's time for a threesome.

photo from garance dore

four dead

2009-04-21T16:14:00.001-07:00

pale nights storm cries for the dead across the street

i heard knives i heard murder suicide our president told us so

time after time

2009-04-14T17:43:00.000-07:00

(this makes me not worry so much about how long my roots are getting)

chadwick tyler

i'ma slap you upside the face with some images

2009-04-14T14:28:00.000-07:00

let's play penis dress-up after class!

2009-04-13T18:15:00.000-07:00

Wish there were more dudes at my school willing to get undressed for this kind of activity.

found at theboobs

boston brother

2009-04-09T13:32:00.000-07:00

los desastres de la guerra

2009-04-09T13:21:00.000-07:00

francisco de goya

but cobblestones are scary

2009-03-25T18:25:00.000-07:00

I have outfit envy. But the purpose of this post is to lament the fact that I have ankle boots almost identical to these, but I don't wear them for two reasons. 1. I have yet to master the art of navigating rough terrain in stilettos. 2. The only time somewhat appropriate for me to wear those killers is the weekend. And chances are that at those so-called appropriate events, I often find myself in a state which further debilitates my ability to walk in them successfully.

ALAS!

float actively

2009-03-10T08:39:00.000-07:00

jonah samson

finding the smallest spaces large, heavily tapestried and stinking of earths. digging hoe fingers into the rows between planted hairs taking lobes into my most patient of mouths. leaving coffees sitting on the scattered surfaces of a new old home, the smallest of shared spaces. filling in shapes with my own. putting the flowers and pinks where i want them to be. spending the money it takes to get home. scissors the only sure extension of my warm weather hands. hearing the buzz of the bathroom from far down the hall. shouting sneezes through the stairwells. begonias on my window sill. taking songs into my hands. laced up the leg. what will we do, come thursday night? flat heeled on the tile, then raised up on the worn balls of my feet as a wiggledance i create to better fill the space when i brush my teeth. hands feeling through cotton the cold felt by the heat. implied dome. hang a lightbulb from the ceiling; what an idea!

HOT FUCK

2009-03-04T19:23:00.000-08:00

photo from jak & jil

Dear Nicholas Kirkwood,

I don't have a foot fetish.

I don't have a shoe fetish.

But the shoes that you create make me wish that I did.

xoxo, Sarah

looking forward to:

2009-02-26T14:06:00.000-08:00

matt & kim, baltimore, tonight, february 26

new york city, saturday, february 28

st. patrick's day, boston, march 17

home, march 18-22

no doubt, boston, june 20

MY LIFE IS FULL OF JOY.

semi-precious sentiments

2009-02-25T07:27:00.000-08:00

no chance of me becoming jaded

somewhat recent history, in reverse alphabetical order

2009-02-24T17:39:00.001-08:00

recently:

2009-02-24T13:53:00.000-08:00

listening to radiohead, lily allen, and no doubt (always)

sketching metal forms, square faces, and tattoo ideas

taking vitamins, my time, and things too seriously

dressing up, androgynously, and for height

cutting photos out of books, my hair, and protein from my diet (unintentionally)

grey

2009-02-24T08:26:00.000-08:00

happiness is finding a pencil

2009-02-23T21:41:00.001-08:00

(forgotten source for photo)

two kinds of ice cream, telling the time....

Yes, Charlie Brown, happiness is all of those things. It is also these:

pulling things off

being prepared

knowing my own patterns

sunshine after lots of grey

alternative spellings

masculine hats

silliness

card games

dry feet in piles of snow

family

homes

quilts

scarves

reading a sentence over and over, not because I'm falling asleep reading an assignment, but because that sentence strikes me

importance

irrelevance

the rare occasions when yellow is flattering

being taller

pulling a fantastic espresso shot

drawing on my arms

Sparkles

being an aesthetic person

cleanliness

sloppiness

managing to live in adverse conditions

support among a group of people

people

being entertained by the littlest things

a rattling solar plexus

knowing

brown paper

skinny inky black pens

productivity

getting it done

clothes out of the dryer

folding together

the good pillow

a white tee-shirt

the right lyrics

shared chocolate

caring

warmth

feeling physically strong

the insides of artists' studios

notebooks

chalk

the things we did in Fun Club

positive nostalgia

power

comfort

thrills

collecting images

drawing the right conclusions

positive feedback

positivity

things that make me feel okay

fleecy blankets

something warm in a mug in the morning

solid people

moisturized skin

the future in my mind

a change for us all

making connections

making things good

positivity positivity positivity

social cats

when pictures come out well

a bag full of paper and pencils over my shoulder

getting out

an organized desk

space

positivity

sandpaper

tangles of bangles

writing the right things down at the right times

re-reading old journals

sleeping next to the heater

stumbling upon the most incredible and inspiring of things

WHAT THE WORLD HAS TO OFFER

(attempts at therapeutic blog entries don't make the list.)

a means to an end

2009-02-16T21:20:00.001-08:00

Yo bitties, I hope you're hungry because check out these (fiberful) ENDS & PIECES from Trader Joe's! Did you eat fruit leather when you were a kid? Did you fucking love it? Do you maybe wanna poop on a more regular schedule (isn't that what fiber does?), like between the hours of when you wake up and when you go to sleep? THEN JUMP ON IT. Shit's delicious. Ha.

And no, my sporadic blogging is not endorsed by the Towson Trader Joe's. But I did just eat a whole bunch of these and am digging on them pretty hardcore.

props

2009-02-16T21:06:00.000-08:00

image from the Sartorialist

I love how this guy wear classic pieces in proportions that are slightly "off." I think it takes a sense of humor and a strong personality to carry it off well, and he seems to be doing just fine.

I'd Hook Up With// Sean Biggerstaff

2009-02-12T16:58:00.000-08:00

I'm fairly certain that seventh grade will never cease to haunt me. The spindly girl wearing ballet skirts tied over ill-fitting jeans and crushing on every boy in her Spanish class will always be there, stewing in her awkwardness, deep down inside me. Perhaps not so deep. And yeah, seventh grade was the year that I became fully aware of the fact that girls are fucking bitches, and sometimes there's nothing better to do than homework. But, seventh grade was also the year of Sean Biggerstaff. Oliver Wood. Master of Sex. A hunk by any other name will still look as bangin'.

Harry Potter Mania may have been a little out of control. Maybe it still is, although I'm a tad bit more removed from it now, seeing as I only read the seventh book once and can't remember enough from the final two tomes to engage in any sort of obsessive book club-style conversation about them. But in 2002, the year that Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets brought lines around the blocks from movie theaters, I was best friends with a certified Potter-freak. She and I must have gone to see that shit four times. It sickens me how much of my money wound up in the hands of Warner Brothers, but what else does a seventh grader spend money on? Lip gloss? Yeah, that's about it. In any case, Sean Biggerstaff = Gryffindor Quidditch captain = hot. His sexiness was underrepresented in the film, so I had to turn to other avenues to get my fix. The now-defunct totallyseanbiggerstaff.com (no joke) was where I'd spend my valuable computer time, flicking through an extensive gallery of movie stills and promoshoot pics and listening to hilarious scenes from some other movie he was in in which he shouted, "It's burnin' it's burnin'! Mah penis is on fi-ah!" Mmmmm, puppy love. What delicious innocence.

Time passed. I forgot about Sean. How could I have forgotten?

My last relationship consisted almost entirely of buying burritos and renting movies. Sounds boring? Not when we stumbled upon the jewel of an indie film "Cashback." HI SEAN, YOU ARE BACK IN MY LIFE! This time, not as a magical quaffle-slinging hunk, but as a melancholy British art school student whose insomnia leads him to take on a job at the 24-hour supermarket. There's a love interest, there's a dickwad manager, and there are plenty of odd scenes in which the women in the supermarket are frozen in various states of undress. What does Sean do? He draws them. Fuck. That's sexy.

There is no conclusion to this post. Basically, I am still in seventh grade, except this time around my crush is twelve times as lusty. And I may have to start hanging around supermarkets.

i like cold beverages, uh-huh.

2009-02-09T21:11:00.000-08:00

This chick from the cobra snake is holding the same mug that we used to have in our "health foods" dining hall, until everyone stole them and started filling them up with their alchy bevs on the weekends (or Thursdays). Now the dining hall is stocked with paper cups, sans sleeves, and I burn my fingers when I'm trying to sip my Organic Apple Red tea. Then I double-cup, and inevitably throw that shit away, and contribute to the giganticizing of landfills. THANKS A LOT EVERYONE, FOR STEALING THE COOL MUGS AND RUINING EVERYTHING.

sixty degrees in february

2009-02-09T20:22:00.000-08:00

Here's to new climates!

2009-02-09T17:59:00.000-08:00

give me more than thirty seconds after//coughing green//plugged in left out of the refrigerator//sticks laid out side by side by side in boxes clamped crimped closed//swaddling scarves//velcro//i promise to try//not forever//a fever//a bookstore//squared bottles and laced threaded smaller headed pillows on the floor two mattresses the pillows on the floor//songs for me i'd have to tell you what to choose//but dancing all night but dancing all night collapse collide dancing all night where are you//you are a fever//don't do what's good for me don't i never do what's good for me and make me want it//hollers down the hallway shut up shut up shut up//cardboard walls and xacto knives and club meetings at night//tell me a story//you like me best when you//smilesmilesmilesmile on me smile all over me damn damn leash//you've got me on a leash a damn damn leash and it's hard enough to be my damn self//plugged in lizard skin guitar noises and those cardboard walls pipe noises pipe dreams pipes telling me i'm stupid to sleep pipe noises pipe dreams pipes hollering at me to sleep

street thoughts

2009-01-28T15:31:00.000-08:00

photo from lookbook

when immediate problems become underlying problems

when immediate problems meet underlying problems

when underlying problems meet immediate problems

the way an eye works

the way eyes work together

strong feelings towards other drivers on the highway

her mom used to take really beautiful photographs

I have the skinny

certain street signs make me very sad

"Mass Highway Underwater Operations"

looking away at the last second from things like roadkill

so much chrome

black lace lining my suitcase

it's amazing how the right constellations can make you feel

jazz music and fantasy - the American dream

my American dream

coffee-tinted vision

nothing so pretty as icicles

"the ocean is not as inexhaustible as it may seem"

people don't really watch other people eat

you are old

six red lights

the music is cracking

we keep records off the radar

I think it'll be shapes

a chrome illusion, highly impressionable

birch trees, rooftops and snow

towards a mountain I'll never know.

people built these bridges,

people built these roads.

trees hanging tumbleheads over the highway

sun on the valley,

a warm spread of tangerine jelly

this is all I'll see today is trees - void

but for the sun jelly across the top twigs

and pegasus tails straight in the sky

beautiful rust and small window panes

the backs of hotels seen from a train

everything is dark & silhouettes & snow rubbed off of rooftops

I'm most scared of dangerous things, like staircases and wet bricks.

half a body submerged

blind contour

2009-01-26T17:32:00.000-08:00

shoes like unicorns and shotguns on top of the fridge

her house is so nice

you can't buy that here

starlights

shivering machinery

smaller buttons

painted backs

words floating, slamming slowly into everything stationary

deliberate

holding yourself a certain way so that you won't wake up

hanging flags from the ceiling

preposterous excesses

needing the cleaning

a promise of routine

some of boston

2009-01-20T20:18:00.000-08:00

i refuse to stop living just because i am bored

2009-01-19T21:35:00.001-08:00

blabber two

2009-01-19T21:14:00.000-08:00

banana smear

navy nails

hot hip

scissors on the bed

beatles songs braided through speakers

needing to take all the photos down again

leopard legs, lemon legs

coffee cups coffee cups coffee cups

living a floating life, a flying life never landing

and to lay a chemical head on the pillow.

francesca woodman

2009-01-16T15:49:00.000-08:00

one of my favorite artists// she created quietly startling self portraits and died too young

yesterday's gathered inspirations

2009-01-16T05:26:00.000-08:00

drink me

2009-01-15T15:19:00.000-08:00

These deserve a cupboard with glass doors.

i want graphite on the heels of my hands again

2009-01-15T12:59:00.000-08:00

some of my drawing homework assignments from last year

(1//PMA statue, 2//textures, 3//busy corner, 4//reflection from a reflective surface other than a mirror)

time flees

2009-01-15T08:07:00.000-08:00

fuck slush

2009-01-12T21:34:00.000-08:00

I would love nothing more than to wear ballet slippers and jazz shoes on my eager tootsies during my daily adventures. I've recently altered my favorite pair of jeans from my freshman year of high school, the ones I used to sport with dirty pink canvas slippers for my walks to school in the springtime. So now I'm itching baaaad for some saccharine footwear. HOWEVER there is (is there EVER)such a thing as winter in this lovely New England locale, and the constant cycle of ice-new snow-slush-slush-melty-slush-ice-snow-melty-melty prevents me from doing as I please. As usual. Flimsy dance shoes vs. six inches of winter on the ground? I think I need to find a new fantasy.

bullet

2009-01-12T08:55:00.001-08:00

MAC nail lacquer in Frost

I feel a bit like a club kid. Or a very chromey robot. Neither of those is a bad thing. It's only been an hour wearing this stuff so far, but I have to say, it makes me feel a tad indestructible. Bring on the lions! The Huns! The bank statements! I can take them all!

That is, until I start to chip.

cat hair

2009-01-12T06:56:00.001-08:00

This photo makes me laugh. Look at the expressions on their faces!

blabber one

2009-01-11T22:03:00.000-08:00

smell like cats in the rain before you sharpen your nose

paint chunky, okay?

don't let grandmothers tell you what your face looks like

read books for hours before falling off cliffs

it's all right with me

jangle your keys, obnoxious fuck

woven tar warped on the floor don't step too hard, you might fall over

it's all right with me

where writing comes from in my head where where where can't see, won't watch

this is scattered i am scattered want to make out?

number 32 on a list too long for one plate spinning plates keep balances high in the air lucy come down from there

need to take my pills stay healthy stop exhausting myself oh wait

ding ding dong ding dong

tripping

2009-01-11T18:46:00.000-08:00

This summer, I ordered the Tripp NYC Stretch Twill Pants in yellow from Karmaloop. They shipped quickly, and before I knew it, I was pulling them out of the tiny box they'd been sent it and promptly yanking them onto my legs. Thank goodness for the stretch factor, because otherwise, the pants would have been unwearble! Granted, I'd ordered a size down, based on the advice of a friend who had purchased the same style of pants in the Trash and Vaudeville store in Soho. The shop assistant there came up to her and bestowed upon her the wisdom of choosing the size down. His words? "Girl, you'd better get the next size down, or you're going to be dealing with some serious baggy crotch issues." Or something along those lines.

In any case, the pants are TIGHT, but when I wear them, I am instantly transformed. I'm not sure what exactly it is, but these pants must have some sort of attitude hidden and sewn into the hems. Or maybe it's the skull studs on the pockets? Or the fact that my ass has nowhere to hide? In any case, the sauciness in me comes out roaring when I wear them... and dudes love it, despite the recent addition of faint navy splotches down the legs (keep me away from your laundry) or the belligerent coffee stain near the front right pocket.

So. If lemon legs have such an effect on my sartorial attitude, imagine what cherry red leopard print could do! My latest purchase? The same Stretch Twill Pants, but in Red Leopard. Karmaloop was having a bit of a sale, and after scouring some coupon sites, I found myself away to save another $15 off of the already 45% off pants. Suck my dick, $400 luxury jean companies, all it takes this girl to get fierce legs is $30. That's only three hours of making lattes and playing tetris on the store computer.

In all honesty, the print is a little intimidating. But I've just recently written a journal entry stating that I need to challenge myself more often (every day, I think I said), and this is a challenge I am certainly up for.

Plus, Karmaloop won't take returns of items with more than 40% taken off, so I'm stuck with them, unless I can find someone else willing to put in the work to get them on...

zip stud zip stud

2009-01-09T18:57:00.000-08:00

GIVE ME HEAVY METAL SHOES OR GIVE ME DEATH

wearing 1909

2009-01-09T09:36:00.000-08:00

hat and gloves// h&m

jacket// forever 21

t-shirt// hanes

skirt// american apparel

sweater tights// gift

shoes// nine west

belt// hot topic

I'm going into Portland with Molly today, so that we can draw everyone we see.

spectral speculation

2009-01-07T19:47:00.000-08:00

There are times when I would really love to be able to live the world in black and white. Maybe it's that things appear more beautiful when they are pared down, or maybe sometimes the simplicity of one scale is just what I desire. It's something like wanting to clean out my closet or to cut my hair short. To make my life clean, to whittle what I am and what I see down to the bones of being. I could live my life just paper and pencils, just fabric and water, or just daylight and moonlight. I could live my life just arms, legs, and the light that chooses the most beautiful ways to fall upon the faces of my friends. And all of these things, perhaps, could be even easier, even simpler, in the sole spectrum of black to white.

But there are the mundane things, too. The things that maybe aren't so beautiful, now, may not be improved by the greys of my vision. Chapped lips, slush, flossing my teeth. A snowy hill benefits from the sunset the frames it. And who has not longed for a red rose?

Every Day

2008-12-31T14:33:00.000-08:00

Within the past year, I have graduated from my small town, moved to the "south," learned an entire new skill set for a new job, discovered a new favorite book, bought patent leather booties, fallen in love, changed my mind, broken a heart, taken on habits, voted for the first time, made lengthy playlists, had a magical island experience, moved to a bed downstairs, had week-long sleepovers, seen my sister break records, received tens of sketchbooks as gifts, become enamored with feathers, created and published my own magazine, said goodbye, met a new family, completed the first semester, given a friend everything I had, discovered Poladroid, done things I shouldn't have, decided to do things for myself, dressed as Gwen Stefani and a Floridian grandmother, scarred my ankles, brightened days, had my first actual bad bought of acne, fallen asleep in the sun, danced, written small truths, rubbed a receptive scalp, eaten lunch at 12:20 three times a week, lost my taste for sugared coffee beverages, seen the Patriots lose the Superbowl, visited Washington D.C. on three occasions, worsened my eyesight, sat at the tops of mountains, re-watched old favorite movies, adopted a Wonder Woman-esque cuff, turned white t-shirts blue in the laundry, read a poem of my own at an open mic, celebrated election results as one part of a campus-wide mob, made connections, worked hard, tried my best to remember that every day is a choice.

Here's to making mine wisely.

tumors

2008-12-28T22:56:00.000-08:00

My cat Abby died of cancer about two years ago. I'd found her as a kitten in my stocking the morning of my first Christmas. We grew up together, although she entered puberty a little before I did, because of the whole cat-years thing. She also reached old age long before I ever thought much about it. I still don't think much about it.

When I found out that Abby had cancer - a tumor under her small, scratchy tongue - I sat down with my journal and filled a page with the cramped writing of a miserable, angst-ridden teenager and the words "i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors..." and so on.

A family friend is in the hospital today, with a tumor the size of a golfball lodged in between the two hemispheres of his brain. The operation to remove the thing is tomorrow.

Consider this my second wind.

i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer i hate tumors i hate cancer

i've been playing with photobooth too much

2008-12-28T05:25:00.000-08:00

bed at home

bed at school

hmhmmhmmm bumbumbummm

2008-12-27T20:35:00.001-08:00

Am I the only one who finds it adorable when boys sing to themselves in public, and utterly obnoxious when girls do?

I'd Hook Up With// Hilary Duff

2008-12-25T18:48:00.001-08:00

Please, for me, go watch this.

Now, tell me that you don't feel just a bit sexy. Perhaps you wouldn't go so far as to say that you're wanting Hilary Duff wearing nothing but the remains of a giant tutu that you personally have just shredded away ferociously like the love-animal that you are, but you're a little turned on, right? Maybe dark lipstick isn't your thing, but aren't you wondering why you don't have a thick black satin ribbon (for tying ever so gently over the eyes of your lover, or your own) in your top drawer right now? I sure am. These leftover red, green, and gold sparkly Christmas ribbons aren't going to cut it. And if it weren't entirely juvenile (and bad for my teeth), I'd probably be sucking on one of my fingers right now, for lack of the thumbs of someone else. She makes it look so good.

Hand me a ribbon and a pool cue, I'm getting under the table with Lizzie McGuire.

white tee envy

2008-12-25T18:21:00.001-08:00

I would kick people's asses for this shirt.

And I'm kicking my own ass for not letting my hair grow this long.

picture from knight cat