I'm a twentysomething writer and editor living out my dream
one day • one picture • one avenue • one story at a time.
This is where I overshare and constantly write tiny love letters to New York.
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Drinking vodka out of a watermelon because it’s Tuesday night baby and I’m alive!
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Riding around NYC today on a double decker bus handing out People’s Pops to promote Points Don’t Expire!
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The rambunctious 6-year-old future poet standing next to me said to his mom, “It looks like someone barfed up pink all over the sky!”
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
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Quote reblogged from the Rumblr…It’s not a week for new places, not a week for breaking new ground, just a week for making the ground you stand on more solid, for making the world you live in more firmly your own.
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Photo reblogged from Humans of New York
“If you could give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?”
“Take those phones you’re on, shove em’ up your arses, and go to work.” -
Photo reblogged from MeredithBklyn
Jessica Williams’ first rule for Hillary Clinton on Twitter. http://on.cc.com/11eBih6
Important PSA.
(Source: thedailyshow)
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Quote reblogged from David’s LogI’m disgusted when I see some old guy with a younger woman. Or a younger guy with a younger woman. Just couples. Or groups. Any person.Joss Whedon
(Source: tastefullyoffensive)
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I hadn’t been in over a year, but something made me run to the yoga studio near my apartment tonight. Maybe it was the perfectly crisp and inviting summer breeze, maybe it was the fact I’ve felt hunched over and small lately…maybe because there’s a yoga class on a rooftop in New York City and that should be more than enough. But when I got home from work, I avoided an encounter with the couch, threw on an I’ve-clearly-never-been-to-the-Lululemon-store ensemble, retrieved my mat from the dust bunnies under my bed and made it to the 8pm class with a minute to spare. And I’m glad I did because there’s nothing quite like doing sun salutations under the moon. And there’s nothing quite like lying on your back, feeling your muscles, your bones unravel and expand, watching the underbellies of planes gliding overhead (wondering, of course, if they belong to JetBlue), and there’s nothing quite like having a coy audience, neighbors pretending not to notice the 30 wobbly statues below their wide-open windows, or an instructor softly telling you to let go of the day, even though your day can still be seen and heard and felt. And it doesn’t matter that the three beautiful men behind you are probably too aware of the hole in your yoga pants or that the occasional mosquito is practicing its downward dog on your forearm or that someone is cooking a meal you can almost taste or that the cycle of city sirens doesn’t cease for those trying to find peace outdoors in the middle of Manhattan. Because meditation is subjective, and silence is not always a requirement for spiritual insight and because I guess some of us find comfort and control over body + mind amid quiet chaos, in measured breaths under starless skies, in twisted shapes atop pre-war buildings in Midtown.
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Quote reblogged from The Paris ReviewWe all grow up with ten great stories about our families, our childhoods … they probably have nothing to do with the truth of things, but they’re yours. You know them. And you love them. So use them. And that’s what I did. That’s what I reached for, to become a writer.
