While Brazil may have lost the World Cup, they’ve still won, genetically speaking.
Things I don’t understand: this outfit.
Is this trying to emulate a prison uniform or has this person just made a concerted effort to achieve the color of Tang, the 90s fruit drink? She looks like the Lorax.
Secondly, I didn’t even know ribbed mock-necks came in that color.. Of a bike reflector. That had to be a special order. It’s like she matched herself to a box of “Wheaties”, brought in a traffic cone and was like, “This. This color.”
Third, I love after putting on the shirt and the pants her thought process was, “you know what this outfit needs? Orange shoes.” And went there. She must have walked into Nike with a Pantone stick.
Well, you know what? Go for it. At least it gets you noticed. Hard to do in a city like New York.
I love signs like this in basically every city that ever existed. It’s like the universal “scam” sign. What is it even for, cash for gold? Auto insurance? It doesn’t matter what they’re for because they all look the same: made in someone’s basement with the same low-rent, barely-legal 18 year-old model. This one happens to be in Texas. I can’t tell if she’s doing to “hang loose” sign with her hands or if that’s supposed to be a telephone because the poster isn’t high-resolution enough to make out the details.
I love this sign because evidently their market is people with no credit, no traceable bank account, or registered state identification.
They should just change those headings to “Illegal alien?” Or “convicted felon?” Or an all-encompassing “Running from the law?”
But that part will be in the small print at the bottom.
So, like every other Orange is the New Black fanatic, I’m uncontrollably binge watching Season 2, may my life resume again at its culmination.
I just got to episode 6 this evening, the one about Valentine’s Day (in prison, which surprisingly mirrors my own life), in which they ask a bunch of the ‘inmates’ the question, “What is love?”
I just loved this response. (Thank you, Crazy Eyes). Because I kind of think this is what love is, too. Or at least what I would like for it to be.
Maybe love is not soul-engulfing flames of passion. And maybe it’s not a waterfall of body-drenching lust. Or a balloon-release, body-freeing euphoria. But maybe it manifests itself in acceptance- an ability to look at the parts of you that you try to hide from the rest of the world, like a damaged vase or a broken lamp that you turn on the mantle just so, so no one can see the banged-up parts- before realizing that there is someone in the world who accepts you for those, even when it seems that no one else would, and if anything, loves you more because of it. Thinks of it as ‘character’. It’s a rare find, and if you have it, never let it go.
Because it’s easy to love perfection.
It’s imperfection that requires sophistication in the heart. Vulnerability that yearns for elevated taste. Insecurity who seeks intelligent emotional design. Someone who can find tenderness and honesty in those inescapably honest places without casting it off as weakness. No one should give his / her heart away to someone with no taste.
And that’s what I think love is. I don’t think most people are hard-wired for it. Most are philistines when it comes to the art of appreciating the value of another human being, unselfishly and without judgment, unable to think beyond the cost sheet of expenses versus reward in terms of a person’s value- maybe because they’re too lost up in trying to add up their own worth.
But someone exists in the world to make you suddenly appreciate in a way you never could before, you, and when you find that, you’ve found love. It exists.
So, if you haven’t found it, keep searching- it may be a long and unfulfilling journey, but it’s an enlightening one, and usually, in the end, rewarded.
There are a couple of baguettes on the floor of the Christopher Street 1-stop this morning if anyone is interested. I don’t see any jam anywhere, but they otherwise look in tact and ready to eat. I didn’t notice any bite marks or loitering pigeons or anything.
You better hurry before this guy gets em.
Still sick. I was the office co-worker annoying everyone with the incessant whooping cough that could not be tamed by throat lozenge or hot tea. It’s the kind of cough that feels like there’s a little man inside your chest tickling your insides with a feather, which in fact, is probably just fluid pooling in my lungs, but it’s more fun to think there’s a little man with a feather. I tried to contain it a few times by coughing into my own sealed mouth, but then I just ended up violently lurching forward every time I had a fit, like someone was repeatedly punching me in the gut. So I gave up and just coughed all over the office. Sorry co-workers- I don’t think I’m contagious anymore anyway. But please karmic universe, no hacking cough tomorrow. That would be a nice change.
This is a dresser piece that someone painted like a building and has left out on the side of the road for pick up on Waverly Place. Except this were a real building it would collapse upon itself because of an uneven foundation. Post-earthquake. Also, I’m not sure how many windows you can put on the front of a building and still be architecturally sound, but suffice it to say, this looks pretty drafty to say the least.
Anyway, if anyone is interested, it’s on the side of the street. Ready for pick up.