“Si hubiera sabido que te gustaba la paella, te la habría preparado.”

My kitten, but not my bookshelf.


I hope you have come to expect this? Dante’s weird doll & many books.

I have spent most of the weekend companionless, wearing inappropriate things, listening to the Cranberries and popular Latin American music, strewing pumpkin innards everywhere, reading (Proust and Pirandello), eyeing a plump pomegranate, chasing a tiny kitten, and showing up with bated breath to huge social gatherings.

My wishes: salt; matches; a good bike pump; a new needle for my record player; free (but personal and everlasting) copies of several dozen, particular books; a tea filter (& loose tea); a notarized signature & a seam ripper.

These are last weekend’s pictures with this weekend’s, totally unrelated, narrative. Asheville was wonderful! I want to live there instead. It is really painful to think of some of my friendships as slipping grips and now fingertips, but you can’t hold on to everyone consistently and undyingly.

The moral of this story is: Andrea  is the master knitress.

Brown, plaid.

Noontime, friend naps.

A shitty picture of an incredible woman and artist (Cat Power!)

Bye Chan!

This is exactly what I want my hair to look like, and for only a moment I secured sublimity.

And a bit belatedly: Happy 22nd Birthday Carley!

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4 thoughts on ““Si hubiera sabido que te gustaba la paella, te la habría preparado.”

  1. the elusiveness of mike wallace and ryan williams evades my fingertips and my mind always. i thin proximity and motivation is to blame.

    p.s. havent heard from you in awhile. does it go well?

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